Sam's Folly (Midnight Sons Book 1) Page 3

  Sam tested the weight of several pool sticks, then handed her one.

  Her fingers grazed his as she wrapped both hands around the stick. “Now what?”

  He reached for a square of chalk, his gaze locked on hers. Holding it out to her, he realized that he heard nothing but his own breathing. It was as if the entire tavern had gone silent.

  She accepted the chalk. “Like this?” She twisted her wrist back and forth, applying chalk to the tip.

  Dear God. He gulped, then busied himself by gathering up the balls, hoping she couldn’t see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, as if he were a hormone-filled teenager. “What’s your name?” The words came out rougher than he’d intended. But that’s how women roped him in. Funny and sexy … and then BAM! He’d anted up his heart once, and the girl took off, leaving him and his newborn son. Better to guard his heart from the start. Wow! Where had that come from? He hadn’t been mad at Daire’s mom in years.

  Green eyes stared at him. “Does it matter what my name is?”

  “Guess not,” he matched her casual tone as he racked the balls. “I could just say hey you when it’s your shot or call you Cat.” He motioned to the cue ball. “Ladies first.”

  “You can go first.” She leaned back against the wall, crossing her legs at her ankles. The familiar wheat-colored Timberland boots had never looked sexier. Adding to her casual look, her bronze knee poked out from the shredded threads of her painted-on jeans. “Why Cat?” she asked.

  Sam held back his answer while he lined up the cue ball. Not wanting the game to end too quickly, he performed a token break that didn’t drop any balls.

  He looked up at the sexy woman as he stood upright. “Your eyes …” He inhaled a deep breath as she held his gaze. Most people got uncomfortable maintaining eye contact for more than a second or two, but she just waited for him to continue. “Your eyes are stunning. They look like cat’s eyes.”

  Appearing momentarily disarmed, she smiled. “Is it my turn?”

  “Yes.” He pointed to a solid. “Tap the cue ball here.” He lined up the shot, mock shooting, showing her exactly where to hit the cue ball. “Let’s see what you got.” He directed her body exactly to the spot, his hand resting on her back.

  Without a word, she bent over the table. Her faded gray sweatshirt rode up, revealing a tattoo on her hip that he couldn’t quite make out. She gave the stick a quick, smooth jerk, sinking the ball, then shimmied out of his teaching embrace with a coy smile. “Like that, Mr. Instructor? Or should I call you el gato?” She smiled. “Perhaps, Tomcat?”

  Gato, the Spanish word for cat, if he remembered correctly. “I definitely wouldn’t refer to myself as a tomcat. But with that sexy accent, you can call me anything you want.” He grinned. “Especially if you say it in Spanish.”

  As though she approved of his comment, a broad smile lifted her heart-shaped face. “My name is Nora.”

  He dipped his head. “Nice to officially meet you, Nora. I’m Sam, but you already knew that. And I think you’re ready to play. Now the only question is … how good are you?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

  Let the games begin, he thought.

  Over the next hour, they continued with their playful banter and swapped a few heated looks and a lot of flirtatious hints. But every once in a while, he’d catch Nora scanning the room. Each time her eyes darted to and fro, the action was sudden, as if she’d forgotten something. When she caught him watching her, she’d mask her apparent distress with a smile.

  In the last minutes of their third game, Sam realized he needed to get back to the family. It was, after all, Daire’s birthday.

  As she’d done for nearly every shot, Nora circled the table like a green-eyed panther stalking its prey.

  “Wait,” Sam said, “You’re missing the kill shot.” When she didn’t seem to see it, he approached her. As much as he didn’t want their game to end, he liked the idea of showing her the shot. Moving behind her, he placed his hands on either side of her sensually curvy hips and edged her to the side. He applied gentle pressure to her left shoulder, nudging her forward so she could see the shot. He wrapped his other arm around her, pointing. “See it? The cue ball will bounce back, lining you up to drop your last ball. Then you’ll easily sink the eight ball.”

  “Oh, I see …” She leaned farther over the table. “Like this?”

  God help him, as she bent over, her backside pressed up against him. He was certain she hadn’t planned to grind her ass against his crotch, but without warning, his relaxed-fit Levi’s suddenly felt like skinny jeans.

  Abruptly remembering where he was, he straightened up. One look at his mother and Daire eyeing him, and his size thirty-four jeans were no longer fitting like a cheap hotel.

  Seemingly not noticing how her move had affected him, Nora took her next shot and dropped the eight ball. At once, she performed a sexy hip-shaking victory dance. “Two wins for me, cariño! Want to play again, Sam?”

  The only thing sexier than her Spanish was his name on her lips. The way she said it sent his blood rushing through his body. He needed to say goodnight before he did something irrational like sweep her up into his arms and carry her to his truck.

  “I should probably get back to …” A slow song started, disrupting his thoughts. Couples made their way to the seldom-used dance floor. Without a thought, he wrapped his hand around Nora’s and led her to the dance floor. Thankfully, she didn’t question his bold move. Then again, with the moves she had just pulled on him, maybe she wouldn’t be opposed to slipping out the back door.

  “So … you’re from Argentina,” he said, determined to get his mind off the crazy thought of taking home a complete stranger. That wasn’t his style — not anymore. Not since he’d had to take over the family business. Funny how, when he stopped getting drunk, a lot of his other bad habits had gone away too.

  Nora tilted her head up and fluttered her long lashes. “Yes … I’m from Argentina. That fact has not changed since you asked me an hour ago. Small talk doesn’t suit you, Sam.”

  She was one tough cookie, this one. But he rallied. “It wasn’t lame small talk. Think of it as an anchor in the rock above you, helping you to reach the next level. I want to know more about where you’re from.”

  “Oh. Sorry, I guess I’ve been a little hard on you.”

  “A lot hard.” He lifted a shoulder. “But I can take it.”

  Her appraising look actually made his body tingle. With a nod, she said, “I imagine you can.”

  Several verses of the song passed, and he realized she wasn’t going to offer any information on her birth country. As nice as she felt in his arms, with his hands lightly resting on her lower back, he found that he really wanted to know more about her. “So … Argentina, huh?”

  They both laughed.

  “I was born in El Chaltén, but then moved to Buenos Aires when I was fourteen.”

  Sam smiled. He knew it was probably ninety percent physical at this point, but he liked this woman. He liked that she spoke her mind. A rare thing, especially when you first met someone. Usually it seemed like there was a breaking–in period, a time when both parties were on their best behavior. Then, after a few dates, the real you — or them — would come out. Well, Nora was already cocky and challenging. He wondered what secrets she harbored, though. Most people didn’t end up in Alaska alone … unless they were hiding from someone.

  “Let me clarify where I was going with that question,” Sam said. “Why have you come all the way from Argentina to Alaska?”

  “Actually, I’ve lived in L.A. for the last seven years. But … why would that be unusual? Americans travel to the Andes. Even a clothing line bears the name Patagonia. So why would it be unusual for someone from Argentina to come here?”

  “True …” He sighed, pulling her closer. She was about five inches shorter than his six-foot height, so her head rested perfectly on his shoulder. He wished he could drop his i
nterrogation, but he was well aware why many people came to Alaska. Not those on cruise liners; those tourists were happy seeing the sights from the balcony of a cruise ship. But a woman on her own? There had to be more to her story. “Why are you in Denali, Nora?” he whispered into her ear.

  She peered up at him again, her emerald eyes holding him hostage as if an electric current connected them. “To hike. Why else?” Her words sounded flippant, but there was a hint of conflict in her eyes. As though she wanted to tell him the truth but couldn’t.

  “People come to Alaska for many reasons,” Sam said. “For some, hiking is just a good excuse.”

  Her muscles tensed beneath his hands. “I’ve come to hike, Sam. That’s all.”

  “Okay.” He tightened his arms around her. She’d waved off his question, but the way she’d said his name told him she wasn’t upset. Maybe he was overreacting. Perhaps he wasn’t as good at reading people as he thought. He shrugged off his concern. Just having her in his arms felt good. Familiar, somehow, as if she’d been a missing part of him.

  Her breath against his neck caused a surge of warmth to rush through him, something he hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime. It had been a lifetime actually. Daire’s lifetime. He looked over her shoulder to see his family smiling. Were they right? Had he been grouchy lately? Well, he certainly didn’t feel grouchy right now. How could he, when he was dancing with a woman who played videogames, shot pool, and liked to hike? Maybe she’d fall in love with Denali and not want to leave. He could see himself with Nora, getting to know each other while hiking.

  Maybe she’d fall in love with him and not want to leave …

  Before he could suggest accompanying her on her hike, the song ended, and his mother waved him over. Time to sing Happy Birthday and cut the cake, she pantomimed. “Hey … I have to do family stuff. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay? Unless … would you like to come with me?”

  She stepped back, breaking their intimate contact. “No … no … thank you, though. I understand family time. You should go alone,” she said with her lips, but her eyes looked sad. She blinked and smiled, shaking it off. “I’ll go beat up the bald man in the machine again. Meet me there when you’re finished.”

  He stepped toward her, closing the distance between them. Her slight accent was so cute that he felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. But no. They’d just met. He couldn’t — shouldn’t — kiss a woman he’d known for a little more than an hour. He shook his head to remove the ridiculous thoughts creeping into his mind. “Sounds like a plan.”

  As he approached his family’s table, Gina carried out the cake his mother had brought to the bar earlier. Vince, the only smoker in the family, pulled out his lighter. Twenty-one candles. It was nearly impossible to believe that it had been twenty-one years, but it was. His son was a man. A man who wanted to risk his life saving others, just like the rest of the family. Just like the father Sam had lost.

  The family and practically the entire bar joined in singing Happy Birthday. With one long breath, Daire blew out the candles.

  Then the phones went off in unison.

  Instinctively, Sam, Alex, and Erik reached for their phones at the same time.

  “Water rescue,” Alex spoke first.

  Daire darted his gaze from Alex to Sam. “Cool! My first rescue is on my birthday.”

  Sam shook his head. “Not tonight, Daire. You’ve been drinking.”

  Daire lifted his glass with a smug grin. “Not a sip. You thought you were gonna hold me back again by getting me drunk. Not this time, Sam!”

  Erik smacked Sam on the back. “Gotta let Daire grow up some time, you know.”

  Sam looked to his mother for backup, but she just shrugged. “This is my fifth time through this, Sam. What can I say? Your dad and I raised a brood of superheroes.”

  Defeated, Sam ran his hands over his head. “All right, everyone pack up.” Hey, if his son was grown up, that meant he was free to carry on with his life. And right now — well, after he stopped everything he was doing to save someone’s life — he knew exactly the path he wanted to pursue. He turned to find Nora, explain why he had to leave, and hopefully to get her number … but she was gone.

  ~ Nora ~

  Nora had just dropped four quarters into the boxing game when her phone buzzed.

  No one ever called her but him.

  She glanced toward Sam’s table. His back was to her as he stood with his arms around two men. All of the people at the table, along with most of the people around the bar, were singing to the young man who had to be Sam’s relation. The boy had the same chestnut-colored hair and eyes. And even though the younger man didn’t have the distinguished laugh lines around his eyes and mouth that Sam had, his face held the same hard angles. Determined, she decided. Even when Sam had smiled at her, his face maintained an intent expression, as though he was attempting to solve a problem — her problem. Although she hadn’t said anything that should have given him the impression she was in trouble, he’d implored her to tell him why she’d come to the top of the world.

  And damn, she’d wanted to.

  She shivered as she thought about the way Sam had wrapped his arms around her at the pool table. He’d made her think of things she had no business thinking. Not now, anyway. Definitely not now. Not when her life — and possibly any person’s around her — could be in danger. He’d also made her forget to check her environment. A risky distraction.

  Nora pulled out her phone as she rushed toward the exit. She glanced down at the caller ID at the same time she pushed through the heavy door. She had to get outside before the fourth ring. If she didn’t answer, he’d get suspicious.

  As soon as the solid door closed behind her, drowning out the laughter and music from the tavern, she clicked Accept.

  “Hola, amor! Lo siento. Me atrapaste en un mal momento. Estaba en la ducha.” She tapped Mute, knowing Sergio would berate her for her use of Spanish, which would give her a chance to reach the car and catch her breath.

  “English, Nora! I’ve asked you a thousand times to only speak to me in English. Why do I always have to remind you?”

  Safely locked inside her rental car, she unmuted the phone. “Sorry, my love. I was apologizing that I didn’t hear your ring at first. I was in the shower.” Grrrr … Only in North America would a man with the name Sergio not speak Italian or Spanish. Sam hadn’t minded her use of Spanish. Actually, he’d liked it. She’d seen the faint blush that had risen on his cheeks when he was trying to be smooth. He’d carried himself as though he felt assured and confident, but there was something lurking there. A hurt that he’d buried deep down … just like she did.

  “It’s okay, my darling.” Sergio’s words interrupted her thoughts about Sam. Thoughts, she reminded herself, that she couldn’t act upon. “I was starting to worry about you,” he continued in his sickeningly honeyed voice. At one time, she’d believed his words. Now she knew otherwise. “Thought maybe you found an Eskimo to keep you warm when you didn’t answer your phone.”

  “Never, my darling.” She cringed on the endearment, but knew he’d expect it. Just for a little bit longer she’d have to keep up the charade. What she wanted to say was how ridiculous he sounded, assuming that all Alaskans were Eskimos, especially since most of the Alaska Natives he was referring to probably didn’t even use the term Eskimo. But Sergio wasn’t one to be teased. Or corrected. Maybe that’s why she’d had so much fun bantering back and forth with Sam. It’d been years since she’d felt as though she could be herself. Well, kind of herself. She’d had to lie about why she was in Alaska. But the rest of her actions — playing games and taunting, speaking in Spanish if she wanted — had felt like a part of her that had been lost in the last seven years. She’d never imagined running for her life would actually make her feel so … alive.

  Instead of slipping up and giving Sergio a reason to question her, she went on offense, asking him a question that would keep him talking. “So, how was your day? Any new
clients?” Sergio was the most narcissistic man she’d ever known; he could talk about himself — or his business — longer than anyone she’d ever met.

  “No one as good as you, babe, but yeah … I found a few hopefuls.” Sergio went on and on about the street fighters he’d discovered in Tijuana. Just as he’d found her in Buenos Aires seven years ago. She’d been working with her mother during the day cleaning fancy hotel rooms. At night, she’d been cage fighting. Sergio had recognized her when she entered his hotel room, but she had begged him with her eyes not to say anything in front of her mother. Her mother had no idea what she had to do to earn the money they needed to fix the roof and buy their old car. Nora had even bought a skateboard to explain her cuts and bruises. Too many falls, Mama, she’d had to lie. But someday I’ll be really good at it. It makes it easier to get to work.

  He hadn’t given away her secret. All he’d asked for was to share a coffee with her. He’d been charming and sweet, wooing her with fancy dinners and, more meaningfully, hope. He’d promised to take her away to a life of leisure and luxury. She could find a job and send money back to her mother, who refused to leave her grandmother. At twenty-four, Nora thought her days of fighting — and struggling — were over. But instead it was her dreams that had ended. Sergio insisted that she hand over her passport for “safekeeping,” as he’d put it. And the job? He’d actually brought her to Los Angeles to fight in women’s MMA. While tamer than the street fighting she’d been doing for years, it was still fighting. Thankfully, she’d been good, and few women could touch her.

  And those women kept coming. Every six months he’d go on a talent search, probably using the same lines on women — and men — to lure them to the United States. She hoped he hadn’t found any new women. She hated to think about the woman — girl — who’d take her place once she was gone. What some innocent teenager would go through to achieve the American Dream — Sergio’s version anyway.