Chapter Twenty-Two
Later that evening, Sam stopped in Ventura and pulled into a gas station to fill up the Silverado. As he was leaving the restroom, he spotted a familiar face in line at the cash register.
“Tiffani,” he said.
She was wearing black workout leggings, a hot pink tank top, and expensive sneakers. When he approached her, she eyed him warily. “Sam. Hi.”
He waited as she paid for a big carton of coconut water. There was so much he wanted to ask her, but he didn’t know how. After that disastrous night at the whiskey bar, he’d lost his phone and Eve’s number. Extended stays at the hospital with Charlie kept him from visiting Eve at the mansion, and by the time he was able to get out there a week later, both Eve and Tiffani had moved out.
Awkward as hell, he followed Tiffani out to where her gleaming Bentley was parked by the pumps. “I, ah…I was wondering if you knew how Eve was,” he said. “I heard she’s got a new job downtown.”
Tiffani stuck the nozzle into her gas tank. “Yup.” Clearly, the southern belle was also an accomplished ice queen.
He scratched the back of his neck. “Do you think,” he paused, “do you think she’d mind if I went to see her? At the restaurant.”
Tiffani shrugged. “Couldn’t say. She was pretty torn up over you.”
Regret turned his stomach. He’d thought about it thousands of times since he’d last seen Eve. If only he could go back and erase that whole train wreck of an evening. But he couldn’t. He nodded, knowing what he’d done but unsure of how to fix it.
“I was pretty torn up, too,” Sam said. “Still am.”
Tiffani looked at him and said nothing.
“I wish I knew how to make things right,” he said, more to himself than to her.
“I can’t answer that for you,” Tiffani said. “But I will tell you that she is one of my dearest friends, and I was sad to see her hurting.”
It was Sam’s turn to say nothing.
Tiffani sighed. “Well, at least one thing didn’t go completely to hell. I was watching the local news last night. Did you hear? Mark Madrigal was taken into custody on federal drug charges over the weekend.”
That got Sam’s attention. How does she know about Madrigal? “What happened?”
“Apparently the DEA and FBI had been building a case against him. They’d had undercover agents on him for years. The reporter said Madrigal was a rising star in the Salinas drug cartel. He was a big earner. Heroin smuggler. Scumbag, far as I’m concerned.” When her gas tank was full, Tiffani removed the nozzle and hung it up. “I’m glad he’s gone. But what a waste. Too bad Eve can’t get all her money back.”
Money? Sam blinked at Tiffani. It didn’t take him long to connect the dots. Madrigal hadn’t let Sam off the hook for that last payment. Eve had paid the shortfall out of her own pocket—without telling him.
A heavy heat settled in his chest right above his heart. She paid off the bad guys. She fought for me. Overcome with emotion, he cleared his throat and pretended he already knew the story. “Yeah, it sucks. It must’ve taken her a long time to earn that.”
Tiffani raised her eyebrows at him. “Three grand?” She sniffed, got back into her car, and shut the door. “I’d be pissed. I’d be pissed as hell. And that journey into the lion’s den was no picnic either. I thought I was going to pass out and wake up tied to a brick on the bottom of the ocean.”
Holy shit. They went to Madrigal’s house. That took serious guts. “I-I really screwed things up with Eve, didn’t I?” he said, leaning down to look at Tiffani through her open window.
Instead of answering, Tiffani took a long gulp of coconut water. “It really is none of my business, sugar,” she said, starting up the car, “but I never deny anyone the pleasure of my personal opinion. So here it is—yes. You really screwed that up.”
Sam watched as Tiffani pulled out of the gas station and drove away.
****
Once the last dishwasher rinsed out the mop and left, Eve did her final walk-through of the kitchen and turned out the light. It was almost one—not bad for a Saturday.
She punched in the alarm code then walked out the back door and secured its three locks. The area just behind Squid was always brightly lit, but the rest of the short alley was dark and gave Eve the heebie-jeebies. She unchained her bike as quickly as possible and was about to get on it when she sensed a big shadow behind her.
Eve plunged her hand into the outer pocket of her messenger bag, took out the pepper spray Tiffani had given her, and shot her attacker right in the face with a blast of tear gas mixed with cayenne.
“Get the hell away from me!” she yelled.
The guy’s hands flew up to his face and he yelled, “Eve! Fuck! It’s me!”
Startled, Eve dropped the pink canister on the ground. Her bike clattered onto its side as she screamed and danced around like an idiot. “Sam! Oh, my God! You scared the crap out of me!”
He sputtered something, then leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. His eyes were shut tight. He took off his cap and threw it on the ground. “That…that pepper spray is no joke. Could I…maybe…oh. Oh, holy Jesus.”
“We need to wash it out of your eyes, I think,” she said, approaching him. He held up his hand. “Don’t…come near me. Stay back. You got a hose back here or something?”
“What? Yes! Hold on.” Eve unlocked the back door, turned off the alarm, attached the hose to the dishwashing sink and ran it back out to Sam, who had doubled over and was spitting and hacking onto the concrete. His eyes were still shut tight.
She turned on the spray and accidentally doused the front of his T-shirt. “Oh, no!” she yelled. More dancing. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He blew a snot rocket onto the ground and held out his hand. “Just let me have the hose.”
Eve stood by helplessly as Sam flushed his eyes and face. The water ran down into the gutter, pooling in the center of the alley in the dark. When he turned the water off, she handed him a clean bar towel to dry his face. Then he looked up at her. His eyes were bloodshot and squinty.
“Serves me right, I guess,” he grunted, standing back up. “I should’ve known you’d be armed.” His voice was hoarse from coughing. He wiped his hands on the towel then wiped the hose before he handed it back to her. “Watch out. I think I contaminate everything I touch.”
Hands shaking, Eve wound the hose up. She locked the kitchen back up. Outside, Sam looked miserable, but at least his eyes were open again.
“I feel horrible,” she said. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I could, uh, drive you back to your place and then bike home.”
He looked up at her with teary, hangdog eyes.
“Jesus,” she said, with a sigh. “Give me your keys.”
****
Sam was sprawled on Eve’s armchair. He’d taken a shower. He’d drunk a half-gallon of water and a couple glasses of milk in an attempt to flush the pepper from his system. But from what they’d read on the Internet, the main thing needed to counteract pepper spray was time. So they sat together waiting for the burn to subside.
He used a paper towel to swab his eyes and nose. He dropped the towel into the trashcan and Eve handed him a fresh one. She hid a yawn. She’d taken a nap in the park between lunch service and the dinner rush, but it was nearly three, and she was tired.
Guilt kept her awake, but so did the unfortunate fact that the only clean item of clothing Sam had in his truck was a pair of boxer shorts.
Sam Lamont. In nothing but underpants. Sitting a foot from her bed.
She’d never had a man in her apartment before. The weeks she and Sam had spent apart couldn’t erase the image of him from her memory, but seeing him in person clearly trumped the Sam of her fantasies. Since his eyes were closed, she could stare at him freely. Damp, his dark curling hair invited the touch of her twitching fingers. His lips looked so soft and kissable in contrast to the angular planes of his face, covered in a couple days’ stubble. He leaned his head back, exposing his throat and the hollow underneath his Adam’s apple that made her want to take a little bite.
She cleared her throat. “How are you doing?” she asked.
“Better,” he said.
He held the paper towel to his eyes with one hand. The angle displayed his broad forearm, his taut tattooed biceps, and his clearly defined triceps. The rounded muscles slid gracefully underneath his tanned skin. She didn’t think her hands could span his upper arm. She’d be more than willing to give it a try.
He squeezed the towel and a few drops of water landed on his chest. The beads ran down the shallow ravine in the center of his chest, through his chest hair and down his happy trail, over his six-pack and into his navel. Sam was a solid man, all dense muscle without an ounce of fat. In the shadows cast by the breathtaking definition of his torso, Eve could still see the silvery-pink scars of shark teeth, deep gouges where his skin was still repairing itself. There were scars on his upper thigh. His long, well-muscled legs contrasted with the floral patterns on her chair; his massive bare feet looked funny on the fluffy yellow rug she’d bought from IKEA.
Her eyes dropped to his boxers. The soft, worn cotton did little to hide his massive package. She was fairly sure the pepper spray had neutralized any amorous urges he might’ve still harbored for her. But even at rest, Sam was better endowed than some men were at play.
He dropped the paper towel in the trashcan.
“Do you want another one?” she asked.
“I think I’m good for now,” he said. “Thank you.” He blinked a couple of times at her, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes again.
She put the paper towels and water bottle on the table and hung up her jacket. She was wearing a tank top, black jeans, and striped socks. Her chef’s clogs sat by the door. She sat down on the bed again, wanting nothing more than to collapse into it and sleep. Actually, that was a lie. Hiding behind that sincere desire was a secret wish that Sam could join her in it.
“I swear I wanted to call you, but I lost my phone. That night at Garrett’s. And when I went to Montecito, you and Tiffani had already moved out.”
“So how did you find me?” she asked.
“I spent the weekend in Oleander. That’s where I read the restaurant review in the L.A. Chronicle. I wanted to stop by and see you. Then I got a little lost. When I arrived, the front door of the restaurant was shut so I thought I’d try the back.” He opened one eye—the brown one—and smiled at her, showing her that dimple in his left cheek. “That’s where you got me.”
She winced. “Yeah. Sorry. Again.”
“I came up to you in a dark alley. It was a logical reaction on your part.” He closed his eyes again.
“So,” she said, “Oleander, huh?”
“Yup. Talked to my dad. Finally.” He nodded to himself. “It was good.”
“That’s great, Sam. I’m glad you were able to do that.”
“Me, too. But it got me to thinking that I didn’t want to go home without resolving things. With you.”
She was quiet for a moment. “What do you want from me?”
“Three things. First of all, the way I behaved that night at Garrett’s—I made an ass of myself. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have stood up for you. For us. I regret every second of that night. I can only hope you’ll find a way to forgive me.” He took a deep breath. “Second, I’m going to pay back every cent of money you paid that snake Madrigal, even though I am furious that you went to go see him. You could have been hurt. Apparently he was arrested on federal drug charges, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that you went out there by yourself.”
“I didn’t go out there by myself. I went with Tiffani.”
“And third,”—he opened his eyes and turned to her—“I want us to try again.”
Out of self-preservation, Eve stood up slowly and walked the short distance to the bathroom. “Maybe…maybe you should give me a little time to think about that,” she said. “I’m really tired and I don’t think I can give you a fair answer.”
“Do you work tomorrow?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. I’m off.”
“Then…you’re right. Let’s talk tomorrow.” He stood up and started to put on his jeans. “I’ll go.”
“Don’t be stupid, Sam,” she said. “Stay here tonight. I’m going to take a shower and get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded, about a sure as a worm coaxed onto a hook. She went into the bathroom and locked the door.
****
Sam woke up in the armchair. Pale blue light filled Eve’s apartment. He glanced the clock. Six in the morning.
The skin on his cheeks still tingled, but the white-hot pain from the pepper spray was long gone. He got up and stretched, then moved over to the bed and turned on the tiny lamp on the nightstand.
Eve had fallen asleep on the bed in her bathrobe. She was swallowed up in it, a tiny woman in a heap of white terrycloth. Her hair lay damp and drying on the pillow, as black and glossy as spilled ink. As Sam leaned over her, her eyes darted back and forth behind her eyelids. Her velvety eyelashes danced shadows on her cheeks, and her pink lips were parted slightly as she breathed deeply, lost in her dreams.
“Eve,” he said softly. He reached down to touch her cheek but stopped just a few millimeters from her skin. In the soft glow of the lamp, she looked perfect. She was perfect.
The burden and misery of missing her were two truths he hadn’t let himself face for weeks. His heart squeezed in his chest.
“Eve,” he said again, and this time he stroked her face, his big, scarred hand absurd on her porcelain-smooth cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open. She blinked and looked up at him. “Sam?”
He sat down on the edge of the bed as she rolled onto her back to give him more room. Continuing to stroke her face as gently as he could, he took her hand and kissed it.
“Fucking hell, I missed you,” he murmured.
He rubbed his lips against the back of her hand, listening to the scrape of his own beard against her soft skin. The sound of that contact—a match on a matchbook cover—raised up the hackles of his lust. Contact. Touch. Intimacy. He missed it all, the easy conversations and the voracious, white-hot sex that burned him from the inside out.
“Sam,” Eve said, a flash of pain in her eyes, “I can’t do this. It hurts too much.”
He squeezed her hand. “You’ve started to build a life. Isn’t this what you wanted? To work as a chef?”
“It’s a good restaurant.”
“I read the review. I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you.”
She looked at him for a long time, her green eyes scanning his face. “What do you want from me?”
“The emptiness I felt when you left, I just…I can’t… I need you,” he stuttered.
She let go of his hand and a pang of fear jolted him. She doesn’t want me. This was a mistake.
He took a deep breath and kept talking. “You are the most fearless person I’ve ever met. The way you face down everything, the unknown, your fears, your nightmares, even my knuckleheaded friend. Even me.” He looked into her eyes. “I know I’m a fuck-up. You deserve more than I can ever give you. But I will do anything it takes to prove to you I’ve changed. I want to be your boyfriend. I want it with all my heart.”
She frowned. “This is bullshit.”
He blinked. “What’s bullshit?”
Eve propped herself up on her elbows and looked deep into his eyes. “You get so down on yourself all the time. You focus on what you don’t have. More money, better credit, a bigger boat.” She smiled gently. “You see yourself as some kind of degenerate. And yet, you have this gift for gathering broken people around you then fixing them and making them fall in love with you for it. You don’t even know you do it. You have no idea. What is your deal?”
“This shouldn’t be about me. This should be simple. ‘Do you want to be with me?’ I ask. You say yes. Then rainbows. Unicorns. Little hearts flying all over the place. Roll credits.”
She sighed. “Come on, big guy. Let’s talk.”
Sam lay down next to her. The pillow was slightly damp from her hair, but it smelled like Eve. He breathed in the sweet floral scent, jasmine and damp night air.
He took her hand again. “You talked about broken people. How are you broken, Eve?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Shit’s about to get real.”
He nodded. “I’m ready.”
They lay on their sides, facing each other. Her green eyes deepened. “When you met me, I was having nightmares almost every night about the day I lost my grandparents.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Every nightmare was the same. I was carrying my grandmother on my back when the wave overtook us.” Eve’s voice became quieter. “She drowned. I was knocked unconscious, but some debris pinned me in the branches of a tree, and a few survivors were able to pull me to safety once the water receded a little. It took me two days to find and identify my grandmother’s remains. My grandfather’s, almost a week.”
Sam stroked her cheek.
“After that, I saved what I could from the wreckage of the house and the restaurant. Just a few things. Some clothes. My knives. I took the money my grandparents left me and moved to Tokyo.
“I found a job there, at a restaurant that supposedly employed female sushi chefs. But all we made were cutesy things. The actual preparations were done in the back kitchen by men.
“The manager made all the women wear slutty outfits. It was degrading, but I held on for the work experience.”
Her voice dropped. “One night, when I was feeling really low, I slept with the manager. He was my first. It wasn’t horrible, but…it wasn’t right either.”
Sam gathered her up in his arms, and automatically, she curled into him and tucked her head under his chin.
“Like I told you, the bastard stole all my money and skipped town. So I came back to California to live with my dad. I don’t think my father hates me. Maybe I remind him of what went wrong in his life.
“He loved my mother. But he didn’t know how to be a good husband or father. Maybe that’s why he shipped me back to Japan in the first place. So he wouldn’t have to deal with me.”
“Was that why he was so hard on you when you came back? Because he doesn’t know how to deal with you?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” She sighed. Sam groaned at the warm whisper of her breath on his neck.
“Love makes us all kinds of crazy, I guess,” he said.
She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the lips, soft and sweet and demure. “Thank you for listening to my issues.”
“Thank you for showing me this side of you.” Holding her face in his hands, he closed his eyes and kissed her, covering her lips with his. He opened his mouth and ran the tip of his tongue against her foxy teeth.
She opened her mouth and he was lost. The swirl of her tongue against his, the soft moans that vibrated in her throat, the sweet taste of her—he couldn’t get enough.
After he’d had his initial fill, he pulled away and whispered, “You told me when I met you that you were stronger than you looked. You weren’t kidding.”
She paused. “Kyle learned that first hand.”
He grabbed her but she wiggled out of his reach, giggling. “Come here,” he growled, jumping on her and pulling her to him. He put his weight on her as she howled in protest, breathless with laughter.
“Argh!”
Her bathrobe loosened as she struggled against him. With his free hand, he pulled at the sleeve, exposing one white, perfect shoulder. He kissed it.
“Be with me,” he whispered. “Be my girlfriend.”
“Your girlfriend?” She squinted at him. “You’re a girl magnet. How can I hope to keep your attention?”
“Are you kidding me?” He kissed her shoulder again, breathing in the scent of her naked skin. “Do you think I even see any other women after you? You’ve messed with me, Eve. I’m done. Tunnel vision. You.”
“Liar.”
He looked up at her. “Say yes.”
“No.”
He leaned forward and kissed her lips again. Time slowed and the deep down burn he harbored for her rose to the surface in a hot wave. When he released her, she opened her eyes and blinked at him as though she were waking up from another dream.
“Ask me again,” she said softly.
“Be my girlfriend.”
She pinched his butt. “That’s not asking. That’s a command. Ask me, pretty-like.”
He grinned and took her in his arms. “Eve, will you please, please, please be my girlfriend?”
“Begging is not sexy.” But already her hands were stroking his chest.
“How ‘bout another duck joke?”
She groaned. “Sam—”
“Be my girlfriend, baby.”
She looked up at him. “Only if I can use you for sex whenever I want.”
“Deal.”
“Then yes.”
Sam paused. “I love you, Eve.”
Her eyes went luminous. “I love you, too.”
“Just like that?”
She nodded. “Just like that.”
He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Be gentle with me.”
“You wish, Lamont,” she said, pulling him into a kiss.