It's in His Kiss

“Drop it, Cole.”

Of course he didn’t. Cole was incapable of dropping a damn thing. “But,” he went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “you landed at a damn good home when you needed one, and we never threw you away, not once. So you do know real trust, and that it can be good.” He paused, waiting for his words to sink in. “That woman you just chased out of here, she’s got eyes for only you. And she’s the kind of woman that loves down to her toes, with her entire heart and soul. You’re safe with her, Sam. You get me? You’re as safe with her as she is with you.”

“Shut up or I’ll shut you up.”

“You know, it’s funny,” Cole said casually, unperturbed by the threat. “We all think of you as the guy always willing to risk whatever it takes. And it’s true. Physically.”

“Gee, thanks, Dr. Phil.”

“But the one thing you never risk is your emotions. You hold them close to the vest,” Cole said. “I think it’s because you’re afraid they’ll be taken away. You’re too stubborn to realize otherwise, and now after listening to your conversation with Becca, I think you’re also a little bit stupid as well.”

Sam shoved free without a word, mostly because he was fresh out of words, and maybe a little afraid that Cole was right—about everything.

“You want to be an idiot, be my guest,” Cole said, lifting his hands like he surrendered. “It’s certainly your turn after all these years of keeping our shit together for us. But if that’s your plan, you’ve got to stop reeling her in, man. She deserves more than that from you. Hell, you deserve more from you.”

Before Sam could respond to this, Cole added one more thing. “And if she really quits because of you, I’m going to kick your ass. I might need Tanner to help me, but I will do it.”

Chapter 27

Sam actually agreed with most of what Cole had said. Becca deserved more from him. As for what he deserved, the jury was still out on that one. So he went to work. He opened his shop and stood in the middle of it, wondering when the hell he’d stopped enjoying the solitude of his warehouse, instead looking forward to the moments Becca spent in here with him. But he’d blown that one.

I love you, Sam. . .

The words mocked him. He’d heard those exact same words from his dad throughout his life, and they’d never meant a damn thing. Those three words had never gotten him anywhere, not once. The only thing to do that was hard work. He had a lot to show for hard work, and absolutely jackshit to show for love.

But at the thought, he felt only a sense of unease. Because it wasn’t strictly true. Cole and his family had taken him in every time he’d needed it. They’d fed and housed him. That had been love.

Without the words.

He liked it a whole lot better that way.

He needed to talk to Becca. Make her understand that they didn’t need the damn words. But, typical of the season, the day was crazy, and she was swamped, giving him the stink eye every time he showed up in the hut.

A busy business was great, he told himself. After the way he’d grown up and the long years on the rigs where he’d worked 24/7 in conditions he wouldn’t wish on an enemy, he knew more than anyone just how good he had it. He enjoyed chartering, enjoyed the work—which didn’t really feel like work at all—enjoyed the people, and their bottom line had been more than decent. He’d made sure of it.

But today, he didn’t enjoy shit. By midafternoon, he was over pretending to work and headed back to the hut. He had no real plan. He was hoping one would come to him.

Becca was in denim shorts, a halter top, her little name tag pinned to it, a straw hat on her head, with her hair loose and tumbling around her shoulders. It’d gotten sun-streaked over the past weeks, and her shoulders and toned arms were tanned, as were her mile-long legs. She had a few freckles, too. She hated them, but he didn’t. In fact, he enjoyed connecting the dots.

With his mouth.

As if she could feel his presence, she looked up. She was busy with several clients, but as she gave him yet another Come-closer-and-die look, he realized that beneath her temper, she was hurt as hell.

That was all on him.

“Ouch,” Tanner said, coming up beside him, slipping an arm around his shoulders. “Looks like you’ve been served.”

Sam gave him an elbow to the ribs that Tanner returned.

Normally Sam would’ve been ready for it but he’d caught sight of a guy skulking off to the side of the hut, just out of Becca’s sight. Waiting. And because Sam was concentrating on that, Tanner’s elbow to the ribs nearly sent him sprawling into the water.

Tanner started to laugh, but the smile died on his face at the sight of Sam’s expression. “What?”

“Keep Becca occupied,” he directed, and strode for Jase.

Jase saw him coming and straightened. “Hey, man.” He lifted his hands. “I just want to borrow your employee for a minute, that’s all.”

“She know you’re here?” Sam asked.

“No.”

“Good. Get the f**k off my property.”

Jase’s good-natured smile slipped. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Jase said with a shake of his head. “I need to talk to my sister.”

“Yeah? You ever think about what she needs?”

Jase blinked. “What the hell is this?”