A Little Too Hot

Chapter Thirty-Three

I’M TRYING REALLY hard not to bounce in my seat like a preschooler as Cooper follows us down the hill in his black Charger. We cross the Bay Bridge into the city and I think of all the hours I’ve spent standing on my balcony and staring at it. I look back toward the Berkeley Hills and try to pick out the house, but it’s just one of hundreds reflecting the last of the crimson sunset.

Trent and Lexie’s wedding was a sunset ceremony on the music concourse in Golden Gate Park, followed by a reception at the de Young Museum, just next door. Blake bypasses the valets standing out front of the courtyard entrance and parks off to the side. He glances at me when I look at him funny. “I have to know I can get you out of here in a matter of seconds.”

“You don’t think . . .” I trail off, looking around to see if we were followed.

“No,” he says, adjusting his jacket around his shoulder holster, “I don’t think you’re in danger, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to be prepared.”

I wonder vaguely what Lexie would think if she knew my date was packing at her wedding.

Cooper pulls past us and parks farther up the curb as Blake comes around and opens my door. He holds out his hand and I take it and slide out of my seat.

I’m nervous as he escorts me in through a courtyard to where music is playing. We step into an open room with hardwood floors and glass walls, and after not being around people for almost two months, it’s overwhelming. Tables line the sides of the room, and up front there is a band on a low stage. I can’t help but smile when I see who they are.

The whole time we were in high school, Trent’s band played at every high school dance. They broke up years ago, when they all went away to college, but this must be their reunion tour, because everyone but Trent is up on the stage. They’re not really what I’d call good, but they don’t suck either. The dance floor is packed with people in dresses and suits, moving to the rhythm.

“Samantha?”

I turn toward the semihysterical voice at a table near the door, sure I must have been imagining it. Mom stands from behind the table and gapes at me for a moment before rushing over and throwing her arms around my shoulders.

I’m momentarily speechless. Despite the fact we’ve been best friends for years, it never occurred to me Lexie would invite my parents.

“Oh my word!” she says, crushing me in a hug. “I didn’t think . . .”

Greg steps up behind her and lays a hand on her shoulder. “Sam,” he says with a little bit of an apologetic squint, then shoots a wary glance at Blake. “I’m glad to see you looking so well.”

“Thanks.”

Mom backs away and her lower lip begins to quiver as she looks me over. She pulls me close again. “That black man came to the house and he wouldn’t say anything and I was so worried that something had happened to you, but then he said you were fine and I shouldn’t worry, and when I told him I wanted to talk to you he said—”

“Mom,” I say, cutting her off mid-ramble. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” I pry myself out of her grip and find tears streaking her mascara into jagged black lines down her cheeks.

“There’s so much I need to tell you,” she hitches. “I’ve been such a hypocrite.”

“Mom it’s okay.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not. I know this is neither the time or the place, but I don’t know when I’m going to see you again and you need to understand why I did what I did.”

I glance up at Blake and he gives me a small nod. I back away a few steps and Mom follows, still clinging to my arm. “Okay. Why did you throw me out?”

She takes a deep breath. “When I was your age, I already had a one-year-old and—”

“And you were divorced,” I interrupt. “I’ve heard the story.”

She shakes her head. “I wasn’t divorced. I’d never been married.”

“But . . .” I trail off, trying to wrap my mind around that. “You always said—”

“I lied to you,” she says, her eyes pleading with me to understand. “I didn’t want you to think my behavior was acceptable, so I never told you the truth. But the truth is, I didn’t even know your father very well.”

“So . . . the Butcher . . . ?”

She bites her lip, leaving a red lipstick smudge on her teeth. “I was a ring rat. I used my parents’ money to follow the WWF around on tour with a friend the summer after my sophomore year in college.” She wipes her face with a shaking hand, smudging her mascara worse. “Of course, that’s not how we started the trip. We were exploring America. But we went to a WWF match in Las Vegas our second night out and one of the guys picked us out in the crowd. We got invited to the after party and spent the next month in a drug-induced haze, following professional wrestlers around the country. Butch claimed me as his.”

My head’s spinning. “His what?”

What little bit of composure she’s holding onto crumbles. “I stayed in his room, Sam. I was his tour rat.”

“Oh.” It’s all I can think to say.

“I dropped out of school, and you were born, and it took me a long time to get myself straightened out.”

Our surroundings start coming back into focus and I look around. “And you’re telling me this now because . . . ?”

“Because I need you to understand how scared I was when you started partying and skipping school. I could see you making the same mistakes I did. I’ve had twenty years to reflect on those mistakes, and what I know is, if my parents had given me more direction . . . if they hadn’t given in to my every whim, if they hadn’t financed all my bad decisions, none of it would have happened.”

So she went totally the other way, driving me crazy by living my life for me and fixing all my screw-ups. “Cutting me off was supposed to straighten me out?”

A tear trickles over her lashes and her bottom lip quivers again. “We tried talking to you. We sent you to counseling. I didn’t know what else to do.”

The counseling was their attempt to get me put in rehab, but it backfired when the counselor wouldn’t agree that I was an alcoholic.

“I think you overreacted, Mom. I mean, I get that having me so young ruined your life, but—”

“What?” she says, her eyes springing wide. “No, sweetie! You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I just didn’t want to see you get hurt. But what I did was wrong. I want you to come back home.”

Before I can even say anything, there’s a tissue being handed over my shoulder. I turn as she takes it, and see Blake hasn’t bailed.

It takes her a minute to get her shit together. “Thank you,” she snivels, dabbing her eyes, then she looks at me. “Are you going to introduce us to your date?”

“My . . . date,” I say, glancing at Blake again. I take a breath. “Mom, this is Harrison Yates. Harrison, this is my mom, Erin.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Blake says, extending a hand.

Mom and Greg shake it in turn. But just as it gets super awkward, the chime of silverware on glasses crescendos, and the chant of “Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!” sweeps through the room. I look toward the dance floor, and everyone has pulled back to the edges, leaving Lexie and Trent alone in the center.

And the second I see her, any concern Blake had about me outshining the bride goes out the window. Her long blond hair is pulled back in front and falls in loose curls over a smooth, off-the-shoulder antique lace gown with a small bustle. Trent is at her side in a classic black tux and ascot. He’s trimmed his chocolate brown curls short, and his face beams as he gazes at her. And when he sweeps her into his arms and kisses her gently on the lips, I’m surprised by the swell of emotion. With a finger, I dab at the tear that’s threatening to spill over my lashes and swallow the rest.

A strong hand slips around my waist, and I look over my shoulder at Blake. “You okay?” he whispers in my ear.

I lean into him and press my forehead against his cheek.

He pulls me tighter and I get lost for a second in the feel of him before I remember my parents are watching. When I look at them, Greg is giving Blake the skeptic’s eye.

“So, where did you two meet?” he asks.

I open my mouth, but Blake cuts off anything I was going to say with a squeeze of my waist. “I met Sam when I was on special assignment, and I knew I needed her in my life.”

My heart pounds, and all I can do is stare at him.

“What’s confusing me here,” Greg says, the creases around his eyes deepening, “is that her cell phone is disabled, and she’s vanished off the face of the planet as far as her family and friends are concerned, and yet you two show up here looking like peas in a pod.”

Blake releases me and I’m suddenly cold. “We met before everything started,” I tell Greg.

“What the hell is ‘everything,’ Sam?” he demands through clenched teeth as Mom clings to his arm. “What’s going on?”

Before I can even respond, Blake is ushering my stepfather toward the exit with a hand on his elbow.

Mom stares after them, alarmed. She starts to follow, but I reach for her hand. “It’s okay, Mom. Just please don’t ask anything that I can’t answer. I really want to be able to stay here for a little while.”

She reaches up and holds my chin in her hand. “You’d tell me if you were in trouble.”

“It’s nothing I can talk about, but I’m in good hands. Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise.”

I glance toward the door and see Blake and Greg coming back toward us. Greg doesn’t look happy, and I have no idea what Blake told him, but when he reaches us, he grasps Mom’s elbow and doesn’t ask anything else.

“This whole thing has just had us so worried and confused,” Mom says with a glance at him.

“I know, and I’m sorry.” I hug her. “It will be over soon. Please don’t worry.”

“Oh my God! Sam?”

I spin out of Mom’s arms and find Katie gaping at me. I still can’t get over the change. She’s a shadow of her former self. She’s always been beautiful, but when she was heavy, she didn’t believe it, and her dark hair hung in her face so you couldn’t tell. Now she’s stunning. Her hair is up in a loose bun and she’s in a strapless silver dress that hugs her curves. Her fingers are twisted into the hand of a very easy-on-the-eyes guy in a dark suit. He looks familiar, but I’m having trouble placing him.

She lets go of his hand and launches herself into my arms. Over her shoulder, Greg is guiding Mom back toward their table, but his suspicious eyes are still pinned to Blake. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Katie says. “Lexie called me. She wanted you as a bridesmaid but she couldn’t get ahold of you. I told her you probably wouldn’t be able to answer the invitation.” She holds me at arm’s length and looks me over. “How are you? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine. Everything’s good. It’s just so good to see you,” I say, pulling her into another hug. “You look amazing!”

“You too,” she says, then whispers, “Who’s your hottie?”

I pull back and smile at her. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

She blushes a little as she turns to him. “Ethan, this is my best friend, Sam, and . . . ?” She glances at Blake.

“Harrison,” he says, holding his hand out to Ethan.

“This is Katie,” I tell Blake.

He reaches for her hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Katie.”

Katie’s eyes shift between us, and I can see a thousand questions dancing in them, but, unlike my parents, she seems to get that now might not be the time. “That dress is killer,” she says. “You look like something out of a fairy tale.”

I smile at her. “You look incredible. I’ve always known you were gorgeous. I’m glad you see it now too.”

She flicks a glance between her date and me and blushes a pale pink. “Does Lexie know you’re here?”

“No. Not yet.”

She takes my hand and starts towing me to where I see Lexie and Trent circulating between tables near the dance floor. “She’s going to die.”

Blake and Ethan follow us as Katie wends us through the thickening crowd up front and stops us behind Lexie, where she’s talking to a couple I don’t recognize—a tall black girl with kinky reddish hair, and a good-looking guy with black hair and olive skin.

Trent is on her other side, and when he looks at Lexie, his eyes catch on me and go momentarily wide. He skirts around his new bride and stops in front of me. “Sam. Wow.”

“Hey, Trent. Congratulations.”

He bends down and gives me a peck on the cheek. “It’s so great that you’re here. Lexie’s going to flip,” he says, caressing her back with his fingertips.

Lexie stretches up and kisses the tall guy’s cheek. “I’m so glad you came, Alessandro,” she says, squeezing his hand. “We’ll catch up later, okay?”

She turns and smiles at Trent, but then her face pulls into an O of surprise when she sees me. I’m not quite sure how this will go, considering I haven’t spoken to her in a year, but then her whole face smiles. “No way!”

I cringe a little, suddenly embarrassed that I’ve been so juvenile. “Way. I hope you’re not mad we crashed your reception.”

“You can’t crash if you were invited.” Her eyes get moist as she pulls me into a hug. “Thank you,” she whispers in my ear. She lets me go after a long minute and grabs Katie’s and my hands, towing us onto the dance floor.

I shoot a glance over my shoulder at Blake, who’s talking to Ethan. He gives me a secret smile.

As Lexie, Katie, and I dance, it’s like the last year melts away and we’re just best friends, with none of the drama or angst, and I’m sorry I ever let a guy come between us. We dance through at least three songs before the band segues into a slow song, and Trent comes up behind Lexie. “Mind if I cut in?” he asks us, taking her hand.

I smile at him and lean close. “Treat her right.”

He smiles back as he pulls her to the middle of the dance floor.

I’m still watching after them when there’s a hand on my shoulder, and when I turn, Blake and Ethan are there. Ethan sweeps Katie into his arms and kisses her hand as they barely move to the rhythm. I look up at Blake.

He holds out his hand with a question in his eyes. “If I’m supposed to be your date, shouldn’t we dance?”

I take his hand and he folds mine into his as he lays his other hand on my waist, careful to keep a respectable distance between us. And then he starts to sway us to the slow beat.

I look at everything but him, because if I get caught in his eyes, I’m not going to be able to hold back. I watch Lexie and Trent, in the middle of the dance floor moving together and looking as if they’ve forgotten the rest of the world exists. I watch the band and try not to cry when I think about how much I wish it was Jonathan. I think about anything but how much the electricity of Blake’s touch brings me alive, and how strong his hand is, clasping mine so gently. And, more than anything, I try not to notice how my whole being reacts to his scent and the heat of his body, so close to mine.

But then the music shifts into the Bruno Mars song that was playing the night I met Blake in the VIP room—and I melt inside. I don’t stop him when he steps into me and draws me against the curve of his body. I don’t stop him as his hand releases mine and his fingers weave into the hair on the back of my head, pulling me to his shoulder. I lay my face against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart as I sink into the music and melt into Blake, and forget everything else.

THREE DA NCES AND a weepy good-bye scene with Mom later, we’re driving home.

Blake reaches for my hand in my lap. “Did you have a good time?”

My eyes follow the strong lines of his face, illuminated by only the dashboard lights as he watches the road unfold. “I did. Thanks for doing this.”

His hand tightens around mine. “You deserve more. I wish I could turn back time and give you your life back.”

I tip my head into the headrest. “My life went to shit way before I met you, and it was no one’s fault but mine.” When I think about everything Blake has been through, it’s embarrassing to think how much I’ve taken for granted in my life. Maybe it’s seeing what he’s overcome to get where he is that’s made me regret some of my choices.

How to Ruin Your Life 101: When your mother pushes, you pull, and screw the consequences.

He shoots me a sideways glance. “Your life can be anything you want it to be, Sam. It’s far from over.”

“Maybe.” I turn my head and just stare at him. It’s all I want to do anymore. “What did you tell my stepdad, anyway?”

His jaw flexes as he twists his hand in mine and weaves our fingers together so we’re palm-to-palm. “I told him not to worry about you.”

I blow out a laugh. “And that shut him up?”

He turns the Escalade up the entrance ramp to the Bay Bridge and his eyes linger on mine for a second. “I told him I would die before I’d let anything happen to you.”

My heart stalls in my chest. I can’t think of a single thing to say. All I want to do is kiss him. My breathing’s a little shaky as I lean my head back again and close my eyes, forcing myself to stay put in this seat.

When we get back to the house, Blake walks me to the door of my bedroom. I want to open the door and pull him through, but after the magic of tonight, I don’t want to ruin whatever is happening between us by forcing him to shut me down.

My heart pumps faster when he stands here, gazing down into my eyes. He lifts his hand and traces my scar with his finger. “It’s been a while since I’ve danced like that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” It comes out breathier than I mean it to, and the ice in his eyes melts into deep blue pools.

His hand scoops around the nape of my neck and he tips my face up. Oh-so-slowly, he bends down to meet me, his liquid eyes watching me the whole way. I sigh as he closes the rest of the distance between us and seals his mouth over mine. His kiss is slow, and soft, but not tentative. He kisses me thoroughly, and I feel it to the toes of my champagne shoes.

Too soon, he pulls back. There’s fire in his gaze. “Good night, Sam West. I’ll dream about you in that dress tonight.”

I kiss him again, just a peck on the lips. “Good night, Blake Montgomery. After a kiss like that, I’ll be dreaming about you too.”

He smiles and backs toward the stairs, and it’s everything I can do not to follow. Once he’s out of sight and the stairwell goes dark, I push through my door. As I undress, I picture Blake downstairs, doing the same. And, as much as I still want to climb into that bed with him, it’s different somehow.

I’ve been afraid to admit to myself the feeling growing inside me because I was sure Blake couldn’t return it. But tonight I began to believe that maybe he could. When this is all over, when I’m no longer his job . . . I think he might be able to love me.