I looked up at him.
He had things to do for peace of mind which meant my safety. He also knew I was freaking out and needed him. So he was going to give me that if I needed it and his peace of mind be damned.
Yep. Definitely. I was falling in love with him.
I didn’t share that. I said, “I’m okay for ten minutes while you do that.”
He gave me a squeeze, let me go with one arm, reached out to the bed, snagged both guns then he moved us up the bed. He put the guns on his nightstand, took the phone from me and put it in its cradle. Then he maneuvered me and Memphis into the bed and got in it with us. He sat back to the headboard, knees bent and held Memphis and me tucked close to his side.
Then he called Deaver, briefed him quickly and told him he wanted twenty-four hour coverage on the house starting now. Then he called Lee, briefed him and explained the situation. I didn’t get much about Lee’s replies due to Sam’s side of the conversation being guarded. I decided to bury that in a part of my brain I never intended to access again so I did that. Then Sam called what apparently was Tanner’s voicemail at work and left a message.
Then he flipped his phone shut, tossed it on the nightstand, turned to me, both his arms came around me and Memphis and he slid us up his chest.
“Right,” he whispered, “how you doin’?”
“I’m good,” I whispered back.
“Deaver and Aziz are stayin’ in a hotel in town. He’s gonna make contact when he gets here. I gotta go down. You wanna come with me or try to get back to sleep?”
There was no way in hell I was going to go back to sleep.
Still, I also didn’t want to see a woken up and called to duty in the middle of the night Deaver. He wasn’t overly friendly by the light of day; I didn’t want to experience a Deaver who’d had his beauty rest interrupted.
So I said, “I think Memphis proved she’s got my back.”
Sam grinned. Then he shifted an arm from around me, pulled Memphis out of my clutch and held her up, her face close to his.
“Good girl,” he muttered.
Memphis aimed and missed a lick at Sam’s nose.
Sam handed her back to me.
“I’ll be back soon,” he whispered.
“Okay,” I whispered back.
“You sure you’re okay?”
No.
But I was sure I’d eventually get that way.
So I answered for the future, “Yeah, I’m sure I’m okay.”
He leaned in and kissed my nose. Then he gave Memphis a head scratch, disentangled from us, nabbed his gun and moved to the door.
He stopped in it and looked back at me.
“I’ll be back soon,” he repeated.
God, Sam Cooper was a good man.
“I know,” I whispered.
He studied me a second, his face got soft then he disappeared into the dark hall.
I moved Memphis and I under the downy cover and into Sam’s soft sheets. Then I looked at Sam’s alarm clock and saw it was twelve minutes after three o’clock in the morning.
At twenty past, Sam came back and Memphis and I watched as he put his gun on the nightstand then he slid in bed in his shorts and gathered me and my dog in his arms before he twisted and turned the lamp off.
“Deaver on duty?” I asked.
“He did a perimeter check and yeah, he’s on duty.”
I nodded, my cheek sliding against his chest.
Sam’s arms got tight.
Then I whispered, “It’s over.”
Sam’s arms got tighter.
I felt tears sting my nose and my voice was husky when I whispered, “Thank you, Sam Cooper.”
Sam rolled to facing me, Memphis jumped out from between us and went to sprawl on her side and Sam pulled me close. I shoved my face in his throat and wept, luckily silently but with extreme relief.
As I did this, lips against the hair at the top of my head, Sam whispered back, “My pleasure, baby.”
My breath hitched and I pressed closer.
Sam’s arms got even tighter.
And it was then I knew I was wrong.
I wasn’t falling in love with Sam.
I was already there.
Chapter Twenty-One
I Did Not Raise a Stupid Man
Two days later…
“I should have brought flowers,” I mumbled, staring down the wide terminal hall Sam and I were standing at the end of and doing it like a stampede of bulls was heading my way.
“Baby, relax,” Sam whispered, his arm wound around my waist giving me an affectionate squeeze.
Right. Relax. Easy for him to say. He’d known his mother since inception and it was her duty to like him.
“Flowers say welcome,” I informed him. “And they make a good impression.”
Sam curled his body into mine and wrapped his other arm around me, saying softly, “Kia, honey, you got flowers on the kitchen bar. You got flowers on the kitchen island. You got flowers on the dining room table. And you got flowers and chocolates in her bedroom. I think you’ve got the welcome and good impression down, baby.”
This was true. However, I had two plus hours of airport, baggage claim and ride home to navigate before she even saw the flowers and chocolates. And I had to navigate this without doing something that made me seem like a freak, a dork, a slut or a loser. I wasn’t certain I could do that. I was too young when things started up with Cooter even to know I should care that his mother liked me. By the time I learned, I didn’t even care if Cooter liked me. I had no experience with this kind of thing.
Then what Sam said hit me and my panic escalated. So much, I had to share it.
Therefore my hands fisted in his shirt, I got up on my toes and whispered anxiously, “Oh my God, Sam, is that too much?”
“Kia –” he tried (and failed) to break in.
“Four bouquets of flowers and a box of chocolates?”
Sam tried (and failed) again. “Kia, baby –”
“I know!” I cried. “You detain her in the garage; I’ll run upstairs, grab a couple of the bouquets and the chocolate and throw them over your deck.”
His arms squeezed tight, his face dipped close, his smile got so big it had to hurt and he clipped out a trembling with amusement, “Kia, baby, f**kin’ relax. She’s gonna love you.”
I stared at him then totally ignored him and noted, “I shouldn’t have worn high heels.”
He tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling. However, he did this with his body shaking with silent laughter.
I didn’t have the time or energy to deal with Sam (again) thinking an unamusing situation was amusing.