When Sam drove up to Lia’s little house half an hour later, the rental car was parked outside her house, but there was no sign of Chambers. Where the fuck was he? Like he wasn’t in enough fucking trouble already.
Sam grabbed his bag and strode through the front door without knocking. He stepped into the living room and froze.
“What in the name of fuck is going on here?” Lia was standing behind the sofa, where Chambers sat with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. She had her hands on his temples and seemed to be giving him a massage.
“Get your fucking hands off her!” he roared, and Chambers leapt to his feet, his eyes huge and his hands held palms up in the classic pose of surrender.
“Technically speaking, I didn’t have my hands on her,” Chambers pointed out calmly, and Sam heard himself growl. Lia was scowling at him. She looked seriously pissed off, actually, and it made him pause a moment before refocusing his attention on Tyler.
“Get out of here, Tyler! Keep an eye on that demon woman.”
“Seriously, Sam,” Tyler said, his deep voice losing its usual amiable tone and his eyes narrowing. They were longtime friends, but the man rarely used Sam’s first name. “If you don’t take me off Lally duty when we get back to London, I’m quitting.”
Sam sighed, shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, and nodded curtly.
“Noted.”
“Thank you kindly for the massage, ma’am,” he said, laying on the drawl for Lia, who blushed in response while Sam contemplated punching his friend. “I feel much better.”
“Piss off, Tyler,” Sam commanded through clenched teeth, and the guy grinned at him and flipped him the bird while Lia’s head was turned.
Lia wasn’t sure why Sam was here. Or why he had a bag. All she knew was that she was angry with him. Very, very angry. And so hurt by what he had said that morning.
“It was lovely meeting you, Miss Lia,” she heard Tyler say, and she smiled at him through the sheen of hot tears that was starting to obscure her vision.
“You too, Tyler. Have a safe journey home.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
A heavy silence descended on the house after he left, and Lia wasn’t about to break it. He’d invited himself into her home, he could darned well talk first. The silence extended into minutes, and, finally, he sighed heavily and swore. It felt like a victory of sorts and bolstered Lia’s courage.
“Lia, look . . . I know how that must have looked back there. But I swear to God, I wasn’t lying about Lally and me. We aren’t involved, we never have been. That’s just the way she is.”
“Oh, I know there’s nothing between you,” she said. Her voice sounded worse because of the lurking tears. “And at this moment, I really don’t care. I don’t know why you came here or why you brought that bag, but I want you to leave.”
“I can’t stay in that cabin with Lally and Tyler. I thought I would stay with you.”
“No.”
“Are we doing this again?”
“Why should I let you stay here? You have no respect for me. You don’t think anything of me. You’re . . . you’re so despicable!”
“Come on, Lia, is this about what you told me before Lally showed up? I know my reaction wasn’t ideal, but . . . to be honest, I was going to end our fling as well. And then when you did, I felt kind of deflated.”
“Why? Couldn’t your ego handle being the dumpee instead of the dumper for a change?”
“What? No, that’s not it. I was going to end the fling. I don’t want to fling anymore—for the first time in my miserable fucking life, I want more than that.”
“I told you I love you and you said I was nobody,” Lia said, not really hearing him, not wanting to hear him. Not when it would only lead to more pain.
“Lia, I didn’t say that,” he whispered.
“You did. Right in front of that woman, you said I was nobody and you told me to leave. I knew it was just a fling and I know I broke the rules, but you didn’t have to say that. You didn’t have to hurt me and humiliate me.”
Sam watched her fold in on herself and melt into tears, and it just about killed him. It had been a throwaway comment meant to dissuade Lally and to get Lia out of harm’s way as soon as possible. But what he’d essentially done was tell this beautiful woman, who mere moments earlier had confessed to being in love with him, that she meant nothing and that she didn’t merit so much as an introduction.
He had fucked things up quite royally, and while it would be easy to blame Lally’s horrendous timing, he should have picked his words more carefully.
“Lia, don’t cry,” he muttered helplessly. He wanted to hold her but knew that she would reject any overture of affection from him right now. “Please. Please let me explain.”
“I want you to leave,” she insisted through her tears.
“No.” He could play that game, too.
“Sam . . .”
“No, Lia. I’m not leaving. In fact, I think I’ll be moving in here, and I’ll be in your face every fucking day until you listen to me.”
She wiped the heels of her hands over her cheeks, tilted her chin, and folded her arms tightly over her chest. Her body language was completely closed off, and he could tell that she wasn’t ready to listen to him at all.
“Fine! I’ll listen, then you have to go.”
“You’re angry with me. You’re hurt. And it’s my fault. I told you I’d fucking hurt you, didn’t I?” he couldn’t help reminding her defensively. “I warned you.”
“Gold star to you for being a man of your word, Sam Brand.”
“It wasn’t intentional, Lia.”
“That makes it worse.”
“For God’s sake, I’m trying to apologize.”
“Don’t bother. There’s no point. There’s nothing between us anymore.”
“For such a mellow, sweet person, you’re a huge drama queen at times, you know?” He couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice and sighed hugely. “I’m sorry,” he said, quieting his voice. “I’m sorry for saying what I did. You’re not a nobody to me, Lia. You’re . . . pretty much the opposite of nobody to me.”
Her taut posture relaxed the very slightest bit, and it reminded him of his interactions with Trevor. He needed to regain her trust. Needed to make her understand that he was someone she could rely on.
“I wanted to end our fling,” he repeated patiently, his voice as gentle as he could make it, “because I want more than a fling with you.”
The words finally seemed to penetrate, and her eyes widened and latched on to his face in confusion.
“What do you mean?” she asked, and he tried not to wince at how the crying had thickened her voice even more.
“This is the first time I’ve ever done this kind of thing,” he confessed awkwardly. “I don’t usually have these kinds of conversations with women.”
“What kinds of conversations?”
“The stuff about feelings and crap. It’s fucking uncomfortable. I don’t know how people—guys especially—do this shit.”
“Sam, what did you mean about wanting more than a fling?” she asked, steering him back on track, and he gave her a grateful nod for the nudge.
“Damn it, I mean I want to go out with you. To places. Where people eat and maybe dance. I want to hold your hand in front of your family. I want to sleep with you every night. I want us to make love . . . not fuck. Jesus, that sounded fucking corny out loud, didn’t it? Of course, I still want us to fuck. I mean, we’re fantastic at it. But I stopped thinking of it as just that. It’s not just scratching an itch with you, Lia. It hasn’t been for a while. You told me you were in love with me, and all I could do was stare at you and marvel at your bravery. Because I’m in love with you, too, and I don’t know if I’ll ever have the courage to tell you that.”
Lia couldn’t stop staring at him. His beautiful, earnest face, his eyes shining with sincerity and his voice shaking as the words tumbled from his lips. Uncertain at first but gaining conviction with every sentence. She didn’t even think he realized that he’d just confessed to being in love with her. Her heart soared at the revelation, even while she still listened to his every word with undivided attention. She had to absorb this while she could, because she knew he would never again be this open and effusive about his feelings.
They were standing in the middle of the living room, close enough to feel each other’s body heat, but they weren’t touching. Her arms had dropped to her sides, and his hands were shoved into his pockets. And still he continued talking.
“I don’t even know what it means to be in love. How do I know if what I’m feeling is what you’re feeling? I’ve never been in love, but if it means that you can’t imagine spending a day without that person, if the prospect of seeing her excites you and you find yourself grinning like an idiot at the thought of her, then I guess I’m in love.
“I stayed awake, you know? The nights that I stayed over, I stayed awake as long as I could. I watched you sleep, and I can’t remember ever being more content, more at peace, or more protective. I’m still working on trying to figure out what that all means, but what I do know is that I want more for us. I want everything for us.”
“Tell me what happened when Laura Prentiss walked into the cabin this morning.”
“I’m so fucking sorry, Lia,” he said, his voice brimming with apology. “I saw her and I panicked. I kept remembering the attack, and I wanted you out of there. It wasn’t logical, it made no sense, but I didn’t want you anywhere near her. I kept imagining you getting caught in the middle of something like that. Of you being hurt. I just wanted you safe.”
“Is that why you sent Tyler with me?”
“Yes.”
“Who was watching your prized client while you were coming here?”
“Spencer. I didn’t want you out of Tyler’s sight until you were safe with me.”
He’d picked her safety over Laura Prentiss’s. That was a huge deal and went a long way to solidifying his unintentional declaration of love.
“So what’s the new plan, Sam?” she asked softly, reaching out to touch his arm lightly with her fingers. His muscles jumped beneath her touch.
“I don’t know. I know you want marriage and kids and the whole shebang. And a house with the picket fence, all of that. But that’s . . . it’s a little overwhelming.”
“No, Sam, I don’t want those things. Not anymore.”
“Then . . . what?”
“Simple. I want you. Just you. And a dog. Definitely a dog.”
His lips widened into a smile, and he opened his arms to her. She stepped into them and was home.
“What are you doing?” Lia asked groggily, many hours later. It was close to three in the morning, and they’d talked till deep into the night. They’d made gentle love once, but Lia’s still-lingering flu had kept things pretty tame compared to their usual standard. Now she woke up to find the bedside light on and Sam sitting up in bed, furiously scribbling on a piece of paper.
“Couldn’t sleep. I watched you for a while—you’re so fucking beautiful, I can’t believe you’re mine,” he said, his voice filled with awe, and she smiled. She sat up against the headboard as well and tucked the sheet under her armpits, not out of any false sense of modesty but because it was chilly.
“What are you writing?” she asked, trying to look over his arm to see.
“Still busy with it, give me a second.” He gave her that cheeky grin she so loved and went back to writing. After a few more minutes of scribbling, he put the pen aside and gave her a gentle smile. He reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb tracing over her cheek and then her mouth.
“I know how important guidelines are to you, so I thought I’d whip up a list of rules from which to build the foundation of our relationship.” Lia’s stomach flipped nervously at that revelation, and she frowned at the piece of notepaper in his hands, not sure she wanted to see it.
“Sam, the last list of guidelines didn’t exactly stick.”
“That’s because they were dumb.”
“Hey,” she protested, offended. “They could have worked!”
“For other people maybe, but not for us. These ones are tailor-made for us.”
“Fine,” she said warily. “Hand them over.” He gave her the slip of paper, and the first thing that caught her eye was his name.
“Your second name is Noah? That’s a great name! Maybe we can convince Spencer and Daff to name their first son Noah. That’ll take some doing, because Daff isn’t your biggest fan. But we could tell her it’s someone else’s second name, that could work. But—”
“Lia! Focus,” he urged on an exasperated laugh.
Samuel Noah Brand’s Guidelines to a Long and Lasting Relationship with Dahlia Rose McGregor
Rule 1—Always sleep beside me.
Rule 2—Always tell me you love me.
Rule 3—I adore you.
Rule 4—I love you.
Rule 5—Marry me, please.
Rule 6—And make me the happiest man alive.
Lia read and reread the note. Not sure if she was reading the words right, she blinked and dislodged a tear she hadn’t even known was there. It trailed down her cheek and landed on the paper, just missing the last rule.
“Lia?” he prompted, his voice shaking.
“Sam, you don’t have to do this,” she whispered, her own voice less than steady. “Not now. I’m happy. I want you. I have you. That’s enough for me.”
“Yes, but back when you were pretending to go all gaga over the thought of being pregnant,” he began, and she remembered the night in question with a smile. He’d looked totally freaked out. “I was thinking about medical plans, kids’ names, schools, and how our little girl would look. And then I really freaked out when I realized that I was disappointed when you took me from ‘Ha-ha, maybe I’m pregnant’ to ‘Ha! No, on the pill, sucker!’” He affected a high-pitched voice to imitate her, and she grinned at his falsetto before his words sank in.
“Are you serious? You were disappointed?”
“Imagine how weird it was for me,” he said. “I think that’s when I first had an inkling about my feelings for you.”
“I love you,” she said, swiping at another tear, and he cupped his palm around her nape and tugged her closer for a kiss.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes. Eventually.”
“Eventually?” he asked, lifting his head and glaring at her. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“I’m not upstaging my sister. I want her wedding to be the only focus right now. Let’s tentatively schedule our marriage discussion for . . .” She squealed and then laughed when he yanked her onto his lap and kissed her again.
“You’re so full of shit,” he muttered against her mouth. “You said yes, so we’re engaged. It can be a long engagement or a short one. But I want at least an engagement ring on your finger before arseholes like Gregory think they still have a chance with you. We clear?”
“As crystal.”
“Lia, I’m going to say it now, okay? Out loud,” he warned, and Lia couldn’t stop herself from grinning ear to ear. For someone who had already told her he loved her more than once, he was certainly turning this into a production.
“Aaanytime now,” she singsonged when he swallowed nervously. He glared at her.
“I love you.” The words were curt and not very romantic, but she’d take them, because they were completely sincere.
“I know, Sam. And I love you, too.”