Chapter 7 #4
She needed him tonight. His strength and the ability to believe she’d emerge from the shadow of death into a new and wonderful life.
One song bled into the next. “Summer Wind” to “Moon River” to “Everybody Loves Somebody”—a veritable array of ’60s jukebox hits.
She spied Mom beaming at her from the arms of Pastor Robinson from Community Church.
When the band took a break, they made their way to the buffet line, filling their plates with barbecue chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, deviled eggs, and more of Frank’s favorites.
Sam led her down the steps to the pool deck where they sat at a linen-covered table, just the two of them, talking, laughing, reminiscing.
Sam took a bite of his pimento-cheese-stuffed celery stick, chewed, and swallowed. “What are you doing in a few weeks?”
“A few weeks? Rather vague, Hardy.”
He laughed. “I forget the exact date, but the Nashville Foundation is honoring a few people for their charitable work. Buck Mathews, Mikayla Onofrio, and myself. I feel like I’ll be more convincing if I walk into the banquet hall with a friend.
Wanna go?” He gave her a broad smile, his full lips tugging up a smidge higher on the right side.
“If you really want me to go, then yes. Am I to help change the narrative away from Curvy Carla?” Chloe reached for her napkin and wiped thick barbecue sauce from her fingers.
“No. I just think we’d have a lovely night together. I’d be proud to be with you. If it shuts up Curvy Carla, so be it.”
“So, I’m more than just a PR stunt.” She narrowed her gaze but softened it with a smile.
“Chloe, I’d never do that to you.”
“Sam.” She laughed and touched his arm. “I’m teasing.
I’d love to go. And I’d love to shut up Curvy Carla.
” It had been eight—nine?—years since she’d been asked on a date.
Maybe she’d forgotten what it felt like.
She examined her heart. No guilt or regret hovered, ready to pounce.
Just a flutter of anticipation. “Sounds fun.”
“It’s black tie.” His warm gaze made her insides feel all buzzy. What was going on? His eyes caressed her, nearly as softly as when he’d run his hands over her arms during their dance.
“Maybe Janice will let me borrow this dress again.”
“Good, then it’s a date.”
“Is this honor for work in your foundation? What sort of charity work do you do?”
“The Sam Hardy SportsWorld Foundation supports youth sports programs, provides scholarships to kids who want to try for elite schools and sports programs. We also provide bikes and sports equipment to underprivileged neighborhoods. We do job training, tutoring, and life skill courses.”
“I’m impressed.” She looked at him longer than she intended. “My nice guy declaration is proving to be truer than I imagined.”
“Hush, you’ll ruin my already sullied reputation.”
“Good. That’ll shut up Curvy Carla for good.”
When the music started again, Sam stood and made a motion that included Chloe and the dance floor. When she stood, he took her in his arms and she followed him to the dance floor without hesitation.
“Sam,” she whispered as they moved across the floor to the band singer crooning Elvis’s “It’s Now or Never.” “What are we…? I mean…”
“What are we doing? Becoming more than friends?”
“Are we?”
The singer smoothly shifted to “Sealed with a Kiss.”
He drew her close and echoed in her ear. “Aren’t we?”
She spoke into his shoulder. “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”
“I’m not sure. Is that where we’re headed?”
“Sam, you’re not thinking. You’re my boss.”
“Well then, Chloe, you’re fired.”
She laughed, a little freer from the ribbons of sadness that had bound her the last ten months. “Let’s not get hasty.”
“I get it. I’m a former bad boy with a rep, but I think we could have something between us. I don’t want to rush you away from Jean-Marc, and I know he’ll always be with you, but—”
“It’s not him, well, not entirely. But Sam…I have to be honest.” She pulled out of his arms and walked from the dance floor to the wraparound porch. Fewer people. Quieter. Maybe she could catch her breath, organize her thoughts.
She stopped by the railing, one hand at her neck, feeling her pulse race. Sam came up behind her, touched her elbow. She turned to him. “Don’t you know, the men I love die? Daddy, Jean-Marc—”
“Come on, you don’t really believe that, do you?”
“It’s the reality.”
“Well then.” He leaned over her shoulder and whispered in her ear, his words settling like a warm blanket on her cold, stale soul. “I’ll take my chances, Chloe LaRue.”
“Sam—” When she turned, she stood just inches away from the man who made her feel alive again.
Their gazes locked and he tipped her chin up and lowered his lips to hers.
Her pulse pounded as warmth flared and ignited inside of her.
His kiss was full and hungry, but giving and searching, and she could do nothing but respond to him.
The music faded until it seemed as though they were the only two people on the porch, everyone and everything a distant buzz.
The kiss she’d yearned for fifteen years ago had arrived. And it was everything she’d dreamed it would be.