EPILOGUE

DAKOTA

ON A cool fall afternoon, I went to lunch with Muriel and Xavier. We chose a small pub with an enticing lunch special a few blocks down the street. After our meal, we walked back to work. A black limousine idled at the curb in front of the building.

“Must be somebody important,” Muriel said. She held a hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun.

“What?” I’d been digging in my purse for my lipstick. I stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, and half the contents of my purse spilled onto the concrete.

“Hey. You dropped this.” The deep timbre of the voice at my shoulder was unmistakable. A large hand snaked into my line of sight, tanned fingers clasping my office keys and a tube of lipstick. “I think that’s everything.”  

“Thanks.” I took the items from Samuel’s hand and squinted up at him. With the afternoon sun behind him, his blond hair glowed around his head. He wore a black T-shirt, jeans, and boots. Something was different about him though, something I couldn’t put a finger on. 

“I know you, don’t I?” he asked, a humorous lilt to his voice.

Suddenly, I was taken back to a fall day years ago when the hottest guy in high school stopped to help me gather the papers I’d dropped. By the gleam in his eyes, he remembered too. I knew this game. I bit back a smile and tried to look stern. “I’m in three of your classes,” I said. “You sit right in front of me.”

“Crockett’s sister, right?” 

“Dakota,” I corrected.

He snapped his fingers and nodded. “Right. Dakota.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and continued to walk beside me. I felt the weight of his gaze travel over me. All those same feelings came flooding back—the anxiety, the nerves, the unpredictable flutter of butterflies in my belly. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.” A slow smile widened his mouth. The expression transformed his face from aloof to warm and playful. I glanced at the office building, uncertain. He dipped his mouth to my ear. “Just play along.” He took my elbow and guided me toward the limousine. “Come on. I’ve got something to show you.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He lifted a warning eyebrow before turning to Xavier. “And you’ve got the rest of the day off. They’re expecting you at the Mercedes dealership to pick out your new car.”

“What?” Xavier’s chin dropped. “Don’t play with me.”

Sam’s grin washed over me like warm sunshine. This was why I loved him so much, these unexpected gestures of kindness. “Hurry up before I change my mind and put you back to work.”

Xavier lifted a hand, his face alight with excitement. “Say no more. I’m out of here.”

Rockwell opened the door to the limo and offered his hand to help me inside. Samuel settled into the seat next to me. In the confines of the car, I could smell his cologne, a mixture of spice and soap. Goosebumps prickled along my arms when one of his knees bumped against mine. His hands rested on the tops of his thighs, fingers splayed.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

He shook his head and said nothing.

The car pulled away from the curve and merged smoothly into traffic. Rockwell’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror and then he lifted the partition, leaving me in privacy with my husband. Sam stared at me, his mouth bowed upward, curling at the corners. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed his smiles and the vivid emerald hue of his eyes.

“Really? Not even a hint?” I asked.

He leaned forward as if about to reveal a devastating secret. “I can’t tell you, but I can show you.”

The limousine turned down the dirt road at the edge of town and stopped. I recognized the forest thick with aged trees and heavy underbrush, but a decorative wood fence replaced the razor wire fence from my youth.

I glanced at Sam for reassurance. He cocked an eyebrow.

“Do you remember?” he asked.

“Of course.” My voice cracked on the words. This was the very first place that Sam and I had been alone together as teenagers, before we’d fallen in love. I remembered the way my heart had thudded against my chest when he’d taken my hand, the way my skin had heated every time he’d touched me, and the dull ache between my legs from his nearness.

His fingers remained threaded through mine. The pad of his thumb swept across the back of my hand. Everything south of my tummy clenched at his warm, proprietary touch.

Rockwell eased the car down a gravel lane. We emerged into a circular clearing. Sunlight shafted through the trees, heating my skin. I flattened a hand over my eyes to cut the glare and squeaked in surprise. The abandoned house stood in front of us, the one Samuel’s great-great-grandfather had built, but it was an entirely refurbished home. Fresh white paint covered the wood scrollwork trim. Ivy clung to the brick walls and climbed the pillars of the porch. Rays of light reflected off pristine window panes.

“Oh my goodness.” As soon as the car stopped, I jumped out, pulling Sam with me. The scents of damp earth and azaleas drifted on the air around us, reminders of teenage love and the innocence of youth. I turned to look at Sam, searching for answers.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” he said.

In the midst of the summer’s drama, I’d forgotten our anniversary. I pressed a hand to my lips. “I’m so sorry. I forgot.”

He pulled me into his chest and hugged me tight. “It’s okay.”

I hugged him back then turned to stare up at the three stories of restored brick in front of us. “I don’t understand. How did you do this?” 

“I bought it from Maxwell a few years after we divorced. He was going to have it torn down, and my mother talked him into selling it to me. It was one of the last things she did before she died.” He stared at the house.

My chest began to ache with the buildup of memories and nostalgia. “Can we go inside?”

“Sure.” Another one of Sam’s slow smiles warmed me. He took the front steps two at a time, opened the front door, and swept a hand to invite me inside.

The house smelled of furniture polish and roses. Hardwood floors gleamed and contrasted with brilliant white plaster walls. The wide staircase swept through the foyer and curved to the second-floor landing. The crystals of the chandelier cast prisms of light on the walls. I trailed a finger over the newel post at the foot of the stairs, while Samuel watched from the center of the room. The weight of his gaze followed me as I peered in doors and hallways.   

“Why did you do this? You said it would take a fortune to restore,” I asked.

Samuel shrugged. “After we divorced, I used to come here and think. This place reminded me of you. I could close my eyes and smell you, pretend you were here with me. It kept your memory alive for me. All those years, I tried to forget, but five minutes here brought everything back.”

We’d circled the ground floor and arrived back at the staircase. I stood on the lower step, which put me at eye level with Samuel. Twelve years ago, I’d stood in this identical place with him. He stopped in front of me, inches away, and met my gaze. That same jolt of attraction, alive and pulsating, zinged between us, hitting me like a thunderbolt deep in my belly, deeper between my legs. His focus dipped to my lips. For a second, I forgot to breathe. In a heartbeat, we were seventeen years old again. I was the daughter of his cook, and he was the unattainable high school stud.

“Do you like it?” he asked. His voice vibrated with hope.

“I love it,” I said and placed my hands on his chest. “Almost as much as I love you.”

“Shelby’s been in charge of the remodel, and Venetia did the interior.” His chest lifted and fell with a soft sigh then cast a sideways glance in my direction. “I want this to be our retreat, a place to bring our kids—if we have any—and to recharge our batteries on the weekends.”

“I can’t believe you did this.” The sting of tears blurred my sight. I swallowed against the thick lump of emotion in my throat.

“I did it for you, baby. Always for you.” His fingers slid through mine before pressing my palm against his heart. “For us.”

THE END