Sam

The rest of the week passed by in hours of boring monotony. Sam hadn’t seen much of Devon except for at breakfasts. He was always working with his father or hers. She spent her days reading through her course work and taking practice exams. When she wasn’t cramming for school, she was video chatting with Megan.

School had already started at Stanton and Megan was making Sam homesick with all the gossip.

“Guess who your Ryan is dating?” Megan squealed.

“He’s not my Ryan,” Sam corrected, while her heart plummeted. He wasn’t hers, nonetheless it hurt to hear he hadn’t even waited a week to move on.

“Okay, if you don’t care, I won’t tell you,” Megan quipped indignantly.

“Fine, just tell me.”

And so opened the floodgates. Megan filled Sam’s head with news about Stanton. Apparently, Ryan was officially dating Terese Byers, a pretty underclassman. Hearing he’d landed a girlfriend in the first week of school made Sam feel like she’d been holding Ryan back all this time with her non-committal dating style. She thought he felt the same way about not seriously dating, but apparently not.

She listened to Megan’s gossip, but it all felt useless. Sam had been sequestered at the James’s estate for almost a week and already everyone was moving on without her. And to make matters worse, she was no closer to finding a way back to Boston. After spending time with Devon, she didn’t have the heart to exploit him in her back-to-Boston scheme. And without him, she didn’t see any other options, and resigned herself to start at Eddington.

After Sam hung up with Megan, she wallowed around her room feeling sorry for herself. But that wasn’t getting her anywhere. Her shiny new soccer ball caught her eye and Sam’s heart lightened a little. Soccer was just the thing to cheer her up. Playing solo wasn’t much fun, but she could use the practice. Especially if Devon came through with Coach Tomlin.

Sam changed into her new workout gear and grabbed her star spangled ball, ready to head out and find somewhere to kick it around. Shouldn’t be hard on the immaculate mansion grounds. She opened the door and ran smack into Devon’s broad chest.

“Hey Sam!” he said cheerfully. “I was just coming to find you.”

“You were?”

“Yeah and from the looks of it, you’re about to be very happy about my news.”

“You talked to the coach?” she asked.

“Yes. He’s agreed to let you try out in two weeks.”

“Omigod!” Sam dropped the ball and threw her arms around Devon’s neck, bouncing on her toes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe you big time, Devon!”

He laughed and hugged her back. “I was hoping you’d say that,” Devon murmured.

Sam let go and looked up at him. He was smirking at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I kinda already have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?”

“I need a date.”

“What?”

Devon ran his hands through his hair. “I wouldn’t ask, but my father’s being an absolute buggar about it.”

“So your dad wants you to ask me out?”

Devon loosed a frustrated breath and continued to run his hands through his hair. “Well, it’s sorta turned into that. The short version is, there’s this wedding, and it’s important for a member of our family to attend. Of course my father can’t, so he’s sending me instead, as I RSVP’d with a plus one a while ago. That was when I was still with Sophie, so he’s forcing me to bring a date, because apparently, it’s rude not to.”

“And I’m your only option?”

Devon stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Your father overheard me arguing with my dad and sorta volunteered you.”

“Great, so you’re really not asking me.”

“No! I absolutely am. But I’d never force you to come with me.”

“What about our dads?”

“They can piss off. If you don’t want to be my date, I’ll find someone else. I just thought since we had so much fun the other day . . . I dunno, it might be fun to dress up and drink other people’s booze.”

Sam smiled. “That does sound kinda fun.”

“So you’ll be my date?” Devon’s grin blinded her.

“Yes, but this isn’t a real date. We’re just going as friends.”

“Of course. I’m sure you have a rule about not dating friends.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure that’s the principal rule of friendship.”

“I thought no kissing was the most important rule?” he teased. “Make up your mind, woman.”

She couldn’t help but grin at Devon. It was impossible not to smile when he was smiling at her with his stupid ripply-dimples dancing on his face.

“I’m just making sure we’re clear. When is this wedding anyway?” she asked.

His hands were in his hair again. “About that . . .”

* * *

“Tonight! He invited you to a wedding tonight? Omigod, Sam! You’re going on a date with Prince Charming,” Megan squawked.

Sam knew her best friend would overreact. But Megan was always the one Sam turned to when she needed fashion advice. Or makeup advice. Or anything girly-advice, for that matter. She tried to curb her eye-rolling and get Megan to focus. “It’s not a date! We’re going as friends. And stop calling him Prince Charming. His ego is big enough. Can you just help me pick out a dress to wear?”

“Okay fine, hold them up.”

Megan helped Sam pick out a dress and sent her a few YouTube tutorials about how to apply an elegant smoky eye. It was a total fail. Sam ended up washing her face and just going with her normal routine. She showed Megan her finished look and she demanded Sam apply more than just mascara and lip-gloss. After following Megan’s makeup instructions word-for-word, Sam felt pretty confident with her look. She still resembled herself, just kicked up a notch.

She was wearing a wine colored off-the-shoulder dress that fit her perfectly. It was a total impulse buy, and she’d pretty much been trying to punish her father with her outrageous shopping spree at Brown Thomas when she’d bought it. But Devon told her it looked posh, so she had to have it. Sam never thought she’d actually have an occasion to wear the dress. But now that she had it on, she sort of loved it. She added black strappy heels that tied around her ankles with a velvet bow. She’d even curled her hair, pinning it to one side so it fell over her shoulder in soft waves.

“Très magnifique!” Megan exclaimed. “Now have fun at the ball, Cinderella.”

“Thanks,” Sam replied blowing her best friend a kiss before signing off.

Sam hadn’t even flinched at Megan’s exuberance, because if she was honest, she was kind of excited for her non-date date with Devon too.

Devon

“Do or die, mate.” Devon reminded himself to breathe as he walked across the hall to Sam’s room. He couldn’t believe she’d actually agreed to go with him. He felt like he’d won the lottery, and that was before Sam answered her door looking like a bombshell. Shite, his girl was a beauty!

His girl. Devon really did think of Sam as his girl. And maybe after tonight she would be.

“Wow,” he said when he finally picked his jaw up off the floor. “You clean up nice, kitten.”

“You look pretty too, baby cakes,” she said not trying to hide her smile for a change. “And you know you own me, right? I never get all girl’d up.”

“That’s a shame. You’re kinda sexy when you try.”

“Keep it in your pants, baby cakes.”

Devon grinned and offered Sam his arm. “Shall we?”

She took his arm and Devon was gripped by a dizzy rush of happiness. His chest felt tight. Everything felt tight. How was it possible that Sam made it both harder and easier for him to breathe?

* * *

Luckily the wedding ceremony was short and sweet, because Devon was dying to get to the reception so he could whisk Sam onto the dance floor and finally have an excuse to put his arms around her. So far, she’d vetoed hand holding, but looping her arm through his was okay.

This meant Devon had spent the entire evening with his elbows resembling arm rails in the hopes that Sam would touch him again. She was unsteady on her sexy stilettos and Devon thanked whatever masochist had designed them, because it meant Sam had to lean on him whenever they walked anywhere. Christ, he would scoop her up and carry her wherever she wanted to go if she’d only say the word. But she was still clinging to her damn rules.

No kissing. No hand-holding. No whispering. No fun.

The no whispering bothered him, because he was really enjoying having his mouth so close to her ear while he explained his relationship to the people they met. Perhaps he was letting his mouth linger too long. Christ, he couldn’t keep his mind from lingering on all the other places he wanted to put his mouth on Sam’s body.

At least she hadn’t said no to dancing. Not yet, anyway.

* * *

Finally, it was time for dancing. And as much as Devon was looking forward to having Sam in his arms, it may have been a mistake. Devon had made it through the wedding reception without incident, but that was mostly due to the fact that he and Sam weren’t touching. The stupid old biddy sitting next to Sam was bending her ear the whole time. Devon couldn’t get a word in, so he kept knocking back glasses of champagne and making small talk waiting for the meal to be over.

The bride and groom eventually cut the cake and it was time to dance. Devon didn’t waste any time tearing Sam away from the blabbermouth at their table. “Kitten, it’s our song!” he exclaimed.

“Thank you,” Sam whispered when they were away from the table. “That woman wouldn’t shut up. I don’t think I got two words in. All I could do was drink my champagne and nod. Did you know she thinks you’re my brother?”

“Well, we’ll have to set the record straight on the dance floor, won’t we?” Devon said taking Sam’s hand and twirling her away from him.

The twirling wasn’t the problem. Everything was going really well until he pulled Sam back in from the spin and she landed against him—everywhere.

It was ridiculous. Devon couldn’t think with every bit of Sam’s front touching every bit of his. And then there were his hands. He didn’t know where to put them, or not to put them. They seemed to be moving of their own accord, seeking out the most appealing places to hold her. And the thing was, she didn’t stop him. She only moved her own hands over his body and swayed with the music.

And good Christ! The way she swayed those hips made him want to howl at the moon like some old-timey cartoon. He didn’t know how he was going to survive the night feeling like this. Having Sam’s body pressed against his shook something loose in his brain. Everything was in overdrive. His heart was pounding and his nerves were live wires, snapping and hissing everywhere she touched. His body was going haywire. Especially the parts of him he didn’t want Sam to notice. Not in a room full of people anyway.

Devon needed to get some air and settle down or he was going to give Sam an advanced show. Devon wasn’t shy about his manhood. But there was a time and place for such things, and a wedding dance floor wasn’t one of them.

He used the break in the next song as his opportunity. “I’ve gotta take this jacket off,” he said motioning back to their table. “Can I get you anything?”

“How about another glass of champagne?”

“Sure thing, kitten.”

“I’m gonna use the ladies,” Sam said, blowing Devon a kiss before she wobbled off the dance floor.

He watched her until she was out of the room. He couldn’t help it, his eyes were just drawn to her. He noticed her cheeks were flushed and she had a brightness in her eyes that he hadn’t seen yet. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe she was having as much fun as he was.

Sam

Sam splashed water on her face in the bathroom. She’d used waterproof mascara so she didn’t have too much of a mess on her hands. But the rest of her makeup was running anyway since she’d danced up a storm with Devon. It was seriously getting steamy out there. Devon could dance! And she couldn’t help but notice how well they fit together. With her heels on they were perfectly compatible. Too bad the stupid things were killing her feet.

She dabbed her face with a paper towel and then reapplied some makeup from the emergency touch up kit Megan had demanded she put in her purse. Sam smiled at her reflection. She felt strangely light and happy tonight. Maybe it was all Megan’s talk about living a fairytale, or maybe Ireland really wasn’t that bad. Devon was certainly making the transition easier.

Speaking of Devon, she’d better get back out there before some bridesmaid tried to steal her date. He was easily the most eligible bachelor on the dance floor.

Sam found Devon standing by their table holding two glasses of champagne while chatting with some wedding guests. He’d taken his blazer off, loosened his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his blue dress shirt.

Good God, he was handsome.

Sam preferred his more casual look. She’d actually prefer to take his tie off and unbutton his shirt all the way.

Shit! She needed to get ahold of herself. Maybe another glass of champagne wasn’t a good idea. But Devon had spotted her and his face lit up. She was starting to recognize it was a special smile he reserved just for her. He didn’t pull out those dimples for just anyone.

Christ, if he did there’d be panty-less women all over the place.

He excused himself from the conversation and moved toward her. Once Sam was back in his arms she couldn’t remember what was a good idea or not and she drained her glass of champagne.

* * *

They danced until Sam’s feet were screaming. She finally gave in and took off her shoes when the music turned into slow songs. Devon led her back to their table so she could rest her feet. The guests were starting to thin out and they had the table to themselves.

Sam took a sip of water and put her feet up on the chair, groaning. Devon smiled at her and lifted her feet so he could slide into the chair under them. He pulled her feet into his lap and Sam tried to pull them away. “I don’t think friends give each other foot massages,” she warned. But when Devon started kneading the arch of her foot she nearly moaned. She was putty in his hands. “I take that back. Friends definitely give foot massages.”

Devon laughed. She loved his laugh.

“Thanks for coming with me, Sam,” he murmured. “I needed a night like this. Something to keep me from thinking about my dad.” 

She looked up at him and smiled. “A happy distraction?” 

“Exactly.”

Sam knew all about happy distractions. She was practically the master of them. She perfected the art on her father. She used the technique on days when he was struck with missing her mother so badly that he didn’t get out of bed. Or he forgot to change his clothes. Or eat. It broke Sam’s heart knowing Devon was going to have to go through days like that. She remembered how bad she’d missed her mother in the beginning. How she’d cried and felt like she would break apart from missing her.

Sam wished there was a way to spare Devon that misery. But then, she thought about how she could barely feel the pain of missing her mother anymore. Time had dulled it, along with her memories. Sam looked at Devon, who gave her a kind smile, and decided maybe the best thing she could do for him was to let him hang onto the pain of missing his father. To let it fill him up and wash over his bones, so that he’d know it was real and he’d have something to hang onto when time slipped in to steal pieces of the pain away.

Yes, the best she could do was be his friend and offer a few happy distractions. Sam regretfully pulled her feet from Devon’s lap and took his hands. “Come on. I think I got a few dances left in me.”

Even though her feet were throbbing, it wasn’t hard for Sam to drag herself back to the dance floor. Dancing with Devon was like running downhill, and she never wanted to stop—even barefoot.

Devon let her stand on his shoes and it made her giggle. The emcee came on the mic announcing the last dance. Devon scooped Sam up and twirled her around as, I had the Time of My Life, blared through the speakers.

She cracked up as he sang all the words.

“I didn’t know you were a Dirty Dancing fan?”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Sam.”

“I’m sure there are.”

“Wanna know what I’m thinking right now?” he asked wiggling his eyebrows impishly.

She grinned. “I’m not sure.”

“I’m thinking about kissing you, Sam.”

“Devon! Friends don’t kiss. Remember? And stop saying my name so much. It’s weird.”

“I like saying your name, Sam. And your rules are rubbish!”

“No, they’re not!”

Devon shrugged and they kept dancing.

“Wanna know something else, Sam?” he asked.

“No!”

“But it’s something about you,” he taunted.

“I don’t want to know!”

“Yes you do. It’s a secret.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“I think you almost had fun tonight, Sam.”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her grin. “Almost.” 

“I knew it!”

“Don’t go getting a big head. I just like weddings. And can you please stop calling me Sam? It’s Samantha.”

“But I like Sam. It’s a grand name.”

“It’s a boy’s name.”

“I like Sam,” he said firmly, like the discussion was over. Then, he spun her and started singing the lyrics again. When she was back in his arms, he looked down at her with a more serious expression on his face. “I know this isn't Boston,” Devon said. “But is it really so bad?”

Ugh, why did he have to bring up Boston? Not now. Not when she was almost having fun!

But now that he had brought up Boston, Sam felt like she wasn’t allowed to have fun. Like she was betraying her home if she enjoyed herself somewhere else. She knew it was stupid, but it was Boston pride. Anyone who considered themselves a good Bostonian thought this way.

“Boston’s my home, Devon. It’s where I grew up. I had all my firsts there and I really thought I’d get to finish my journey there. I’m not going to get to graduate with my friends or finish out my soccer career with my team. It sucks.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But, I’d kill to be you, starting over somewhere new. Getting to be anyone you want. I’m going to be stuck here managing my father’s company forever. I feel like my life’s over before it even started.”

They weren’t dancing anymore. Sam was looking at the sadness held between Devon’s furrowed brows. He already had lines there, like he’d spent entirely too much time worrying for someone who was only seventeen. Maybe being seventeen just sucked for everyone.

“Have you told your father how you feel?” she asked.

“He doesn’t care. Cor-Tec is his dying wish for me. I can’t let his half of the company go to the highest bidder. Your father would be ruined too if I did that.”

“I’m sorry, Devon. I didn’t know . . . ”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to crap on your problems with mine. I just mean to say that I know this isn’t Boston, but things might not be as bad at they seem. If you’re open to it, you could have some pretty grand firsts here.”

Staring up at Devon made her think of some pretty grand firsts, indeed.

She nodded at him, not sure what to say. Devon’s problems were much bigger than hers. She could go back to Boston next year, or anywhere she wanted. And she still had her father, even if he was a pain in her ass half the time.

“You ready to go home?” he asked.

“Sure.”