Chapter 19 Samantha
SAMANTHA
“I would kill for mint chocolate chip right now.”
The words come out of nowhere during breakfast, interrupting a conversation about quarterly projections. All three men stop talking and look at me.
“Mint chocolate chip?” Kai repeats.
“Ice cream. The good kind. With actual chocolate chunks, not chips.” I set down my coffee. “Sorry. Random craving. The estate kitchen has vanilla and that fancy gelato, but I’m dying for real mint chocolate chip.”
“The kind from that place in town?” Donovan asks. “What’s it called—Mountain Creamery?”
“Yes!” I lean forward. “That’s exactly the kind I mean. They make it fresh daily. I haven’t had it in years.”
Grant checks his watch. “We could go today. Roads are clear enough.”
“Really?” I look between them. “You’d drive all the way to town for ice cream?”
“Why not?” Kai’s already standing. “I’ll drive.”
“Absolutely not,” Grant says immediately.
“Come on, Dad. I’m a great driver.”
“You’re a maniac.” Donovan stands, pulling out his phone. “But fine. Let’s go. I need to pick up supplies from town anyway.”
“I’m driving,” Grant announces. “Everyone, get your coats.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re bundled up and heading toward the garage.
The temperature has dropped significantly in the past few days.
My breath comes out in white clouds, and the cold bites at my exposed skin despite my heavy coat.
Snow blankets everything—the trees bent under the weight of it, the ground buried under at least two feet of fresh powder.
Every surface sparkles in the weak December sunlight.
Kai insists we take the Range Rover instead of something sensible, and now he’s arguing with Grant about who gets to drive.
“I literally just said I’m driving,” Grant says, climbing into the driver’s seat.
“You drive like a grandpa.”
“I drive safely.”
“Same thing.”
I slide into the passenger seat, and Donovan and Kai settle into the back. The heated seats kick in immediately, and I sigh in relief.
Grant starts the engine and heads down the private road that connects the estate to the main highway. The road has been plowed, but snow still clings to the edges, piled high on either side like walls.
We’ve barely made it half a mile when Kai leans forward between the seats. “You could go faster. We’re not going to slide.”
“I’m going the speed limit.”
“The speed limit is a suggestion.”
“Kai, I swear to God—”
“Just saying. At this rate, the ice cream will melt before we get there.”
Donovan sighs from the back seat. “We haven’t even reached the highway yet. Can you be annoying later?”
“I’m not being annoying. I’m being helpful.”
“Those aren’t the same thing.”
I hide my smile and look out the window. The mountain landscape is stunning in winter. Pine trees heavy with snow. Rocky outcroppings dusted white. The sky is that particular shade of gray that promises more snow later.
We reach the main highway, and Grant merges smoothly.
“See?” Kai says. “Now we can actually go somewhere. Hit the gas, old man.”
“I’m fifty-two. That’s not old.”
“You drive like you’re eighty.”
“And you drive like you’re trying to die young,” Donovan adds. “We’ve all been in a car with you, Kai. It’s terrifying.”
“It’s exhilarating.”
“It’s illegal in most states.”
I laugh, and Grant glances at me with a smile. “They’re always like this,” he says.
“I’ve noticed.”
The drive takes about thirty minutes. The highway winds down the mountain, and I watch the elevation markers change as we descend.
The snow gets less deep the lower we go, but it’s still everywhere.
Coating the power lines. Covering abandoned cars on the shoulder.
Making everything look clean and untouched.
Kai keeps up a running commentary from the back seat about Grant’s driving, Donovan’s bad taste in music, and whether we should stop for coffee too.
“We have coffee at home,” Donovan points out.
“But not town coffee. It’s different.”
“Coffee is coffee.”
“That’s offensive to coffee.”
Grant catches my eye and mouths, “This is my life.”
I’m grinning so hard my face hurts.
The town appears gradually. One gas station, then a few houses, then suddenly we’re on Main Street with its brick buildings and Christmas decorations.
Someone’s strung lights across the road. Every shop window has wreaths and fake snow. There’s a massive Christmas tree in the town square, decorated with what looks like handmade ornaments.
It’s charming. Picturesque. The kind of small mountain town that exists on postcards.
Grant finds parking near the ice cream shop, and we pile out into the cold.
The temperature is brutal. I pull my scarf tighter and shove my gloved hands into my pockets. My breath comes out in thick clouds, and the cold makes my lungs ache.
“Remind me why we’re getting ice cream when it’s fifteen degrees outside?” Donovan asks.
“Because Samantha wants ice cream,” Grant says simply, like that explains everything.
Which, apparently, it does.
Mountain Creamery is warm inside, packed with locals escaping the cold. The smell of waffle cones and sugar hits me immediately.
Behind the counter, a girl who can’t be more than twenty looks up and does a visible double take when she sees us.
More specifically, when she sees Grant, Donovan, and Kai.
“Mr. Hale,” she says, flustered. “Hi. I didn’t know you were coming to town.”
“Just picking up some ice cream, Emma.” Grant’s smile is polite. “How’s your mother?”
“Good. She’s good. Thanks for asking.” Emma’s eyes dart between all of us, clearly trying to figure out who I am and why I’m with three men.
I’m hyperaware of how we must look. Grant’s hand on my lower back. Kai standing close enough that our arms brush. Donovan, on my other side, is casually possessive.
We look like we’re together.
All of us.
My face heats despite the cold we just left.
“What can I get you?” Emma asks, still staring.
“Mint chocolate chip,” I say. “Two scoops. In a cup.”
“Same,” Kai adds. “But in a cone.”
Grant orders something with caramel. Donovan gets black coffee instead of ice cream because he’s apparently sane.
We wait while Emma scoops, and I notice other people in the shop watching us. An older couple near the window. A group of teenagers in the corner. The man behind us in line. They’re not hostile. Just curious. Like they’re trying to figure out the dynamic.
Let them wonder.
Grant pays before I can reach for my wallet, and we head back outside with our ice cream.
“We should walk around,” Kai suggests. “I need to hit the hardware store anyway.”
So we walk down Main Street with its brick sidewalks and old-fashioned storefronts. Past the bookstore and the coffee shop and the place that sells handmade quilts.
The cold is intense, making my ice cream almost redundant. But it tastes exactly how I remembered—sweet and minty with chunks of real chocolate.
“Good?” Grant asks.
“Perfect.” I take another bite. “Thank you for this.”
“It’s ice cream. Not exactly a hardship.”
But it feels like more than ice cream. It feels like he listened when I mentioned a random craving. Like he cared enough to make it happen.
We stop at the hardware store where Kai buys things I don’t understand. Then, the general store where Donovan picks up supplies that the estate kitchen apparently needs.
People keep looking at us. Some smile and nod at Grant—clearly he’s known here. Others just stare, trying to piece together why four people are walking around together like we’re on a double date.
Except it’s not a double date. It’s just us.
And it feels good.
Really good. Better than it probably should.
By the time we finish shopping, the sun is starting to set. The temperature drops even further, and I’m shivering despite my coat.
“Let’s head back,” Grant says. “Before we freeze to death.”
The drive back is quieter. Grant drives again, and I sit in the passenger seat with the leftover ice cream containers in my lap. Kai and Donovan are in the back, their voices low as they discuss something I’m not paying attention to.
I’m watching the landscape change as we climb back up the mountain. The snow gets deeper. The trees get denser. The world narrows down to just the road ahead and the warm interior of the car.
“Want some?” I ask Grant, holding up a spoonful of my mint chocolate chip.
He glances over, amused. “While I’m driving?”
“I’ll feed you.”
“That seems dangerous.”
“Live a little.”
He opens his mouth, and I guide the spoon in. He takes the bite, his lips closing around the spoon in a way that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is.
“Good?” I ask.
“Very good.” His hand finds mine on the console between us.
I feed him another bite of ice cream, and his thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. Behind us, Kai laughs at something Donovan said. The heater blows warm air. Snow falls gently outside the windows.
This moment is perfect. And I want it to be real so badly it physically hurts.
But it’s not real, because they don’t know the truth about why I came here. They don’t know about Robert and the revenge plan and the lies I’ve been living since I arrived.
They think I’m just a woman who ended up here by accident. Who fell into their lives and decided to stay.
They don’t know I came here to destroy them.