Sam

Sam followed Thorton to the study, which turned out to be a massive Beauty and the Beast-worthy library. She pulled her laptop out of her shoulder bag and connected to the Wi-Fi. As soon as she was online a message pinged. It was Megan.

MEG-lomania: R U IRISH YET?

Sam-I-am: dork

MEG-lomania: WHERE R U?

Sam-I-am: Belle’s library

MEG-lomania: FOR REAL?

Sam-I-am: no! But seriously you should see this place. It looks like Hogwarts.

Sam’s computer screen was suddenly filled with Megan’s goofy face as her video chat request came through. Sam rolled her eyes but accepted the chat.

“You’re killing me! You can’t say Hogwarts and not show me. And stop mixing fandoms. You know it makes me crazy. Only Emma Watson can pull off Disney and Potter.” Megan spoke in rapid-fire like always and Sam’s eyes teared up.

“Where are you for real?” Megan asked.

“At my dad’s business partner’s house.”

“Ooo, let me see.”

Sam picked up her laptop to give Megan a 360-degree view of the breathtaking library. She could hear Megan squealing a world away.

“Oh my God! I hate you so much right now, Sam. I would kill to be there.”

“Calm down. It’s just a bunch of dusty old books.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that. Anyway, how’s everything else?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“Where’s Devon?”

“I dunno. Haven’t seen him yet.”

“I bet he got hott!”

“Give it a rest. We’re supposed to be focused on getting me back to Boston, not boys. Besides, if this place is any indication, he’s probably an even bigger pain in the ass than I remember.”

“Who’s a pain in the arse?” a smooth male voice interrupted.

Sam whipped around and her heart fell into her guts as she locked eyes with the most gorgeous human that ever walked the earth.

“Hello, Sam,” he purred.

“Devon?” There was no way this gorgeous specimen of man was Devon. Right? Right!

I mean, it was genetically impossible for someone who used to look like a buck-toothed weasel as an eight-year-old to now look like . . . like . . . this. Sam had no words for this level of hotness. But the boy—no, strike that—the man in front of her was nodding his head confirming his identity. And even though there was nothing remaining that resembled the Devon she remembered, there was a familiar twinkle in his gray eyes.

Sam blinked waiting for her brain to catch up to the masterpiece she was viewing. The dark-haired boy standing in the library now had to be at least 6’3’’ and he was easily the most beautiful person Sam had ever laid eyes on. And the way he was smiling at her. No, smiling was too simple a word. This boy’s smile was scandalous—offensive even. It devoured his face and it was gobbling her up with it. She had to look away.

“Sorry, Meg, gotta go.”

“Wait!”

Sam heard Megan’s squeals of protest but slammed her laptop shut anyway, turning back to face the Irish god who was striding toward her—still swallowing her whole with his sinful smile. How was it fair for someone to have a smile like that, when they had everything else too?

This new and improved Devon had cheekbones that would make a supermodel cry, and the bushy eyebrows she remembered now looked like tailored shutters framing the most beautiful gray eyes she’d ever seen. And that smile . . . Shit! She couldn’t look directly at it. But even looking near it was dangerous. Devon’s smile left ripples of dimples on his flawless skin like it was the surface of a lake, and Sam suddenly couldn’t remember how to swim.

Devon took her hand giving it a single shake before pulling Sam into an all-consuming hug. “It’s so good to see you again, Sam,” he said into her day-old hair making her feel faint.

She couldn’t even speak if she wanted to. Her face was mashed into his soft blue sweater that stretched across his broad chest. When he finally released her she stumbled back, acutely aware that she was wearing eight-hour old leggings, Uggs, an oversized t-shirt and a wrinkled gray zip-up hoodie. Not her best look. She probably still smelled like the Pringles she ate on the plane, too. And he smelled like . . . like heaven. Shit!

Shit, shit, shit! It was the only thought running through Sam’s head. This was not how she wanted to meet Devon again for the first time. She wanted to dress cute and make him regret ever calling her names. She wanted to be the one who looked hott. Sam could be hott when she wanted to. She knew she had a great figure. She played soccer. And when she and Megan got all girl’d up to go out, Sam could really pull off hott. But right now, the only thing Sam was pulling off was Jersey Shore.

How embarrassing!

Why the hell hadn’t her father told her they were coming to Henry’s house straight from the airport? Then, a ghost of a conversation came back to her. He did tell her they were coming here. She just hadn’t paid attention. Apparently, she had a mental block for anything pertaining to Ireland. She needed to get it together. Sticking her head in the sand wasn’t doing her any favors. All it did was strand her in Uggs.

Devon finally released Sam from his bone-crushing hug and held her out at arms length. “Look at ya!” he exclaimed, squeezing her fit arms. “You’re not one of those anorexic American girls at all, eh?”

Yep! Definitely Devon. And apparently, he was still the same jerk she remembered from childhood, but now with a more adult repertoire of insults—great!

Sam wriggled out of his grasp, and mumbled. “Thanks, I guess.”

“So anyway,” Devon continued running his hands through his McDreamy hair. “I hope you don’t hold all that childhood rubbish against me. They were only pranks,” he said grinning again.

Spam, he’d called me Spam! There, that seemed to work. Sam wasn’t blinded by his good looks anymore. Every time she thought Spam, she could picture Devon as the eight-year-old who called her that.

“God! Put that thing away, will you? It’s blinding,” Sam said, shoving her laptop back into her bag.

“Pardon?”

“Your smile! It’s ridiculous.”

Devon laughed.

His laugh was still the same.

“Good to see you’re still as charming as ever, Sam.”

“It’s Samantha now,” she said.

That was a total lie. Her father and Megan still called her Sam. And so did pretty much everyone she’d ever played sports with. But she’d started filling out college applications last year as Samantha and she sort of liked the way it felt—older and more sophisticated. Exactly the way she wanted Devon to see her.

Devon shrugged. “I’ve always liked, Sam. Anyway, my father sent me to see if you wanted company. It looks like they’re going to be a while.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she replied, laying on the snark.

“I was thinking more of a field trip?” He smiled again, holding up a set of keys.

Damn it! That smile was going to be the death of her. But it could just be her ticket back to Boston if she played her cards right.

“You hungry?” Devon asked.

Sam flashed a grin of her own. “Famished.”

Devon

Really? ‘Anorexic American girl?’ Why the hell had he said that?

Blimey! Devon had basically just called Sam fat, in a total backhanded way. He blamed Sophie. When they were dating Devon spent way too much time watching those mind-rotting gossipy shows with her where the girls were all fake nice to each other and said passive aggressive things. The damn shows must have rubbed off on him. Or maybe it was just that Sam made him so nervous.

Devon should have thought through what he was going to say when he saw her. He basically had. He was going to keep it simple. ‘Good to see you.’ ‘You look grand.’ ‘I’ve missed you.” That sort of thing. But Devon had been so stunned by how beautiful and real Sam was, that words just sort of fell out of his mouth. Stupid words.

Christ. Who waits nine years for another shot at a girl and blows it in one sentence? This wanker, that’s who.

Everything about Sam was just like he remembered it, yet better somehow. She wasn’t like all the other girls he knew. She didn’t hide behind caked makeup or have bottled blonde hair. Sam was raw and refreshing, just like he knew she’d be.

Well there wasn’t much to do now but try to move forward. At least she’d agreed to go get something to eat with him. He’d just have to win her over with dinner.