“That was nice of you,” I noted cautiously and his eyes came to me.
Uh-oh.
His eyes were easily read. He was pissed.
“You know,” he said quietly, his voice rough with quelled anger, “I’d really like to know who wrote that f**kin’ book so I could hunt their ass down and rip their goddamned head off.”
Oh man.
“Sam,” I whispered, squeezing his thigh.
“No joke, Kia. Honest to God, seriously? I’m at a restaurant, wrapped around my woman, clearly havin’ an important, private conversation and they think it’s okay, it’s f**kin’ fate, for f**k’s sake, that they can interrupt us?”
“He was really nervous, honey.”
“Yeah, I’m not feelin’ this about him. He didn’t wanna be there. I’m feelin’ it for her, who’s right now takin’ photos of us, baby, still, but her finger is no longer over the lens.”
I felt my eyes get big and I breathed, “Really?”
“Uh… yeah.”
Oh man.
“Do you get that a lot?” I asked.
“Uh… yeah,” he answered.
Wow. I mean, I figured it happened and maybe even a lot. I’d just not experienced it before and, although not unpleasant, this was because it was a novelty to me. If it happened all the time, it would get very old, especially when Sam was, as he said, wrapped around me and we were having an important conversation, something our position and body language said and it was something no one could misread.
“Even if you were still playing ball –” I started, trying to find some way to soothe him but he shook his head.
“Tripled since I got outta the Army and that book came out. It happened when I was playin’ ball, definitely. But nowhere near as bad. By now, I’d be retired or lookin’ at it and also lookin’ at a future where eventually that shit would fade and become rare. I was good, people know me, they’d recognize the name, but it wouldn’t be commonplace. Now, who knows? I just know it’s been over a year since that book was published and it hasn’t died down, not even a little bit.”
I was confused.
“So why did you say you’d have your photo with them?”
“’Cause he wasn’t lyin’. His kid likes me and his kid is goin’ in the Army and his kid could see and do some serious shit because he admires me and wants to follow in my footsteps. That’s a responsibility, honey. And his kid’s facin’ that and if he gets a kick outta havin’ a photo of his parents with me, it takes five minutes of my time, I give it.”
Without my brain telling it to do so, my hand lifted to cup his jaw and then I leaned into him and I found myself touching my mouth to his before I started to pull back.
I didn’t get far. Sam’s hand at my waist shot up, wrapped around the back of my neck and held me there.
I bit my lip and stared into his eyes which were now a lot less angry.
And after our day, after how he’d been kind to that man and why, I decided to share another secret.
“I like you, Sam Cooper, like a lot,” I whispered. “You’re not a good man. You’re a really good one.”
“Remember that, baby,” he returned instantly. “That feelin’ you got about me right now, remember that ‘cause that’s what you get from me too and honest to God, whatever this is and wherever this goes, I promise, that’s all you’ll get from me.”
He held my eyes and I let him.
He was making a point, a point he’d made with everything he’d said and everything he’d done since the very second I met him.
A point, right then, I finally got.
Then I nodded.
Then he bent toward me and touched his mouth to mine.
He let me go, turned his head, mine followed the direction of his gaze and I saw the waiter there. But Sam didn’t disentangle our legs or move away when he leaned forward to pull his wallet out of his jeans and pay. He paid in cash, the waiter smiled, bowed and moved swiftly away and Sam’s hand went to my thigh, curled around and his fingers gave me a squeeze as he muttered without any enthusiasm whatsoever, “Let’s do this.”
“Wait,” I said quickly, his eyes came to mine and my hand went to the side of his neck. “Just to finish what we were talking about, when I go shopping with Luci, I’ll feel her out and let you know. If it would be uncool for me to say anything, ask anything, I promise, I won’t push it because she’ll know that’s coming from you. But, if I think I can get her to open up to me without any blow back on you, I’ll do it. Are you okay with that?”
He grinned and answered, “Yeah, honey, that works.”
“Good,” I whispered then pulled in a breath and muttered, “Let’s get this done.”
Sam, being Sam, curled a hand around the back of my knee, lifted my leg from his, set it gently down, got up, pulled out my chair and helped me out of it. Then I nabbed my purse, settled the strap on my shoulder, he grabbed my hand and led me to the American couple.
As we approached, I saw the woman was nearly bouncing in her chair. The man looked like he wished he had a syringe filled with a fast-acting sedative he could stick her with. And yes, I didn’t know the guy but that was exactly what he looked like.
“Ohmigod! You’re with your girlfriend!” the woman cried when we were within five feet of her table, she shot out of her chair (her husband coming up much more slowly) and her eyes shot to me. “Are you a model?”
“Uh… no,” I answered.
Her brows shot together. “An actress?”
“Uh –” I started but she cut me off.
“I haven’t seen you in any movies. What movies have you been in?”
“I’m not an actress. I’m an administrative assistant,” I told her and her jaw dropped.
Then she jabbed her husband with her elbow three times and exclaimed, “How neat is that!” Her eyes moved to Sam. “I love that! I just knew when you settled down it wouldn’t be with some fancy actress or something but a girl next door type. I knew it.” She turned to her husband. “Didn’t I know it?”
“How ‘bout we take this shot so you can get on with your dinner,” Sam suggested, tipping his head to the nearly full plates of food on their table.
“Oh, we’re good, we’re fine,” she assured Sam. “I know! Would you like to join us? I know you’re done eating but you could have a drink or a glass of wine or something.”