8. Cass
8
CASS
The weather stations were right—this storm that’s closing in on us is a menace. I help Mark to tuck Maximus inside his cage with a special blanket, while Sam is talking to an old man who has just arrived.
I should be going, just like the other guests, but my heart is weighing me down like an anchor. There’s something going on with Sam, and it tells me I shouldn’t leave him like that.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I overhear him lashing out at the late guest.
There’s another side to every man, and now I’m witnessing Sam’s. He was reassuring like a father’s protection when I had my panic attack driving through the causeway. Barring his belligerence toward the troublemaker who tried to attack me, he’s been genuinely friendly to everybody. Now, it’s hard to justify his manners, while the man he’s confronting doesn’t look to have a sliver of malice in him.
The old man replies, “I’m here to congratulate you.”
“There’s nothing to congratulate. Jack is still missing.”
His irate voice unsettles me and grounds me at the same time. Samuel Kelleher isn’t perfect. When we first met behind The Thirsty Fox, he was simply an idol. He was desire and lust that was supposed to be a one-off. Now that I’m here with him again, I’ll still attest that he is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. But lust wouldn’t have made me feel what I’m feeling now. After being at the receiving end of his unrelenting hold, something has seeped through me. It’s warm, and it’s slowly lapping at my hardened soul. If there’s a dark side to Sam, I’m ready to face it.
“I’m not here to argue with you, son.”
So the man is Sam’s dad.
Sam shakes his head, clearly having enough of his dad. But the old man continues, “I heard about Red Mark’s anniversary?—”
“I made it up!” Sam laughs. “And you’re late, anyway.”
“I wish you’d told me you were in New York, and we could’ve?—”
“Talked?” he scoffs.
There’s anger in his tone—loud and clear—but there’s silent pain surfacing in his features. This isn’t a case of a man losing his temper—Sam is hurting. Our earlier conversation about Maximus led us to the subject of grief, but what’s unfolding in front of me is a denial of grief. I have no idea who Jack is, but the pain is as apparent on the old man’s face, as if the father and son are mirroring each other.
His dad approaches Sam, and he erupts. “Go home!”
“Why are you so hostile?”
“Ask yourself!” His round eyes widen to expose his held-back tears.
Now I am hurting too. The sparks from his magnificent gray eyes are gone, and it’s not Sam’s dark side that I’m seeing—it’s a gentle and caring man wrestling with himself.
“I had to, so I could take care of you. Your mom?—”
“Mom was too sick to take care of me. Guess what? Because—goddamn it!” Sam throws his head back, gazing at the darkened sky. Then he looks his dad straight in the eye. “Because you gave up on Jack!”
“You can’t say that.”
“I could hold my own. All you needed to do was to keep fighting along with me, instead of saying the hundreds of sorries. Sorry that I lost Jack that night. Sorry for the cops coming up empty, for dead-end leads.”
The creases on the old man’s face deepen as he tries to hold back his tears. “It’s been more than twenty years, Red…”
Red. His dad calls Sam Red ? Is that why his company is called Red Mark?
“Don’t!” Sam keeps his voice down despite his clear intention to let out a roar.
“You’re my only son. Why can’t you forgive me?”
“Well, you should’ve still had two sons.”
So Jack is, or was, Sam’s brother?
Sam pauses, apparently trying to control himself. He takes short breaths, and with spite he adds, “As a matter of fact, you still do.”
If this was a confrontation between Sam and an unruly guest, I would let him do whatever the hell he wants. But I’ve seen fights, and this fight is between two people whose love for each other is tangled in barb wires. Both men are hurting—Sam with regret, his father with desperation.
Sam takes a step closer toward his dad—his fists clench. “Get out of here before I make you!”
I step out and interject, “Sam. I need your help inside.”
He swiftly moves to shield me from his dad. Then he deadpans, “Help with what?”
“Just come with me.”
He doesn’t buy it. He knows the guests are gone, and perhaps he’s expecting me to say goodnight, too.
“Please,” I insist.
Sam follows me.
“I should go,” his dad says to him, which he ignores.
“What is it, Cass?”
I smile painfully. “Actually, there’s nothing. I…” I face him straight-on. “I hate to see family fight. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“How did you know he was family?”
“I overheard your conversation. But that’s not the point. I saw the way he looked at you. I wish I still had my dad to look at me like that.”
He bows his head, puffing. Then he swallows as if trying to turn himself into the Sam who is familiar to me. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have seen and heard that.”
“It’s okay.”
He ponders as he watches his dad walking away, raindrops pelting the old man’s coat. Then he turns to me. “You were close to your dad?”
“I was extremely close to him.”
My dad was the best father anyone could have. He listened, he served, he had so much love for his family, and he never lost his temper. But there was no fairness in this world—he was given to us, yet he was taken away too soon. That night, when a full moon shone on Kalispell, I heard Mother answering the door. I couldn’t sleep and was about to go to the kitchen to steal some ice cream. Through the open door, I saw men in uniform standing by. Mother had never cried so hard—she was howling behind her hands. She wouldn’t have done it if she’d known my brother or I had been there; she’d never had shown she was breaking. But that night, she was. I will never forget that harrowing cry.
Sam draws himself closer to me. It must be the look on my face. Any other man would send me running, but there’s something in his hold that makes me stay. My heart has already learned his language, and I don’t think twice as I lean into him.
“Jack—was he your brother?”
He groans. “He is .”
I let him have a moment to cool down after his apparent frustration that I used the past tense to describe his brother.
“So he is,” I say, placing my hand on the side of his sturdy neck. His jugular vein pulses underneath my palm.
“I guess you heard my father—it’s been twenty years. You think I’m delusional.”
I’m not going to convince him that everything will be fine. I simply want to stop him from doing something that he’ll regret, and most of all, I want to comfort him. It’s my turn, after what he’d done to me this afternoon along the causeway.
I trail my finger along his jawline. “I know nothing about your brother, so it’s not my place to say whether you have a chance of finding him or not. But with your father—I bet my life on it, Sam, he loves you more than you think.”
We’ve barely spent time together, but in life, once in a while you experience an encounter that leaves you wondering—if it’s fate, if in fact you know the other person from your past life. It’s like that for me with Sam.
Releasing the tension on his shoulders, Sam sighs and slams his lids shut. “Love has got nothing to do with it, Cass. He was weak. He wasn’t a man.” His lips flatten, stopping himself from saying anything further.
My hand drops into his. I can barely squeeze his large fingers, but he feels me.
“There is a seed of forgiveness in all of us. You have it too. You just need to help it grow or it will be buried forever.”
He swipes the fringe off my forehead, then tidies my hair with his fingers. The contact is gentle, as if I was a little child whom he cherishes. “I guess my dad isn’t like yours. For a strong girl like you to adore him, he must’ve been one hell of a father.”
Any talk about Father will always bring tears to my eyes. But this moment isn’t about me, so I compose myself. “He was. And perhaps you haven’t seen it in yours yet.”
He bows his head. “Maybe after I find Jack. Maybe not.”
“Just think about it, Sam. You only have one father.”
He nods, perhaps not wanting to argue with me, or maybe he starts seeing my point. He places his hands on my cheeks, gently appraising me.
“What happened to him—your father?” he whispers.
Sam has proven that he is my safety. Despite the stupid thing I did when I arrived, he understood—and he put me first. But for what he’s asking now, I’m not ready to open up yet. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Another crack of thunder jolting us both. He glances out the window. “I’ll drive you. I won’t let you go home by yourself in the storm.”
Despite the imminent weather, none of us seem to be in a hurry to move. We remain close, letting the moment stretch. I’m not sure about his reason, but I want to be in his tight presence for a while longer. Defying my ambivalence about men, I feel a closeness that I’ve never felt before.
“I owe Charlie for sending you here,” Sam murmurs, tilting his face toward me, gaze fixed on my lips.
The look in his eyes draws me in. Desperately wanting to escape getting completely hypnotized, I shift my stare down, only to find his soulfully luscious lips. The urge to kiss him is overtaking me.
“Sam…” I sigh futilely, letting his advancing mouth have its way.
The rim of my lips makes contact with his. Tingles and throbs crawl all over me as if I’d never been kissed. Then he parts his mouth in a hovering move, gently warning me of his intention.
Pausing, his gray diamond eyes query me, checking if I want to proceed. I’m about to give him the answer, but Mark walks in, sticking a pin into our balloon.
“Jesus! Sorry… sorry,” he says, almost over-apologizing.
I withdraw myself from Sam, but not before he gives my waist a firm hug, as if telling me that he is where I belong—he’s my home.
“What is it, Mark?” Sam pants, irritation colors his face.
Mark responds, “Ah… um… I was going to summon you to escort Cass home. But it looks like you’ve got it under control.”
Sam glares at his partner, silently telling him he should’ve known better. His annoyance sends Mark to grin.
“Good night, Cass. See you, pal.” Mark duly leaves.
Sam clears his throat. “Where were we?” he rasps, pulling me back into him.
I’m definitely home now in his embrace. I pout. “You were about to?—”
As if fearing more interruptions, he swings into action without letting me finish. He shows no shyness when his lips find mine. The contact is swift and fiery. With every passionate press, he reaffirms his desire: I want you .
The muscles in my stomach tighten as the tip of his tongue slides into my mouth. Wiry scruff around his chin brushes my skin, reminding me that sexy and danger can certainly go hand-in-hand. Samuel Kelleher—former SEAL, protector, and rumored to have once danced in the rings of professional fighters. Those are just footnotes to the man who stands before me. He melts my heart like a flame on candles, and his profession has got nothing to do with it.
When he presses my hip toward him possessively, I know he’s the type that doesn’t hold back.
It’s fucking irresistible.
Because in fact, I am also the type that doesn’t hold back.
My hands coast down to his butt cheeks and squeeze those sinful pair of mounds stretching his denim. Damn… they’re as great to handle as they are to admire.
Now his hard-on has become too stubborn to ignore. And God help me, while I keep up with his vigor in the kiss department, my fingers voluntarily play with the fly of his jeans, acknowledging his want.
What woman doesn’t want to do it with a man like Sam?
My own thoughts distract me. If I didn’t have a past, I wouldn’t have asked the question.
“Oh, my,” I sigh as I break the kiss.
Sam catches his breath. “What is it?”
There’s a reason why I don’t let men in. I can’t afford to risk my life crumbling again—I’ve worked so hard to rebuild it since my asshole ex-husband decided to live a double life.
I know Sam is different… I think Sam is different.
What if I’m wrong?
Even if I’m right about Sam’s heart, being with him will still break the one rule I’ve sworn to keep. He may not be in the military anymore, but the possibility that he might not come home after an assignment is very real.
“I’d better go,” I say.
He cocks his head, begging, “Please stay.” He then pauses for a moment, fishing for an answer from me. “Or is there a Mr. Winter that I should be worried about?”
I’ve ditched my married name. Sam shouldn’t be worried about my ex-husband, but I should—if and when the time comes. I’m adamant that my ex is currently not an imminent threat, but Sam’s question makes me want him to feel on edge. So I straighten myself. “As a matter of fact, there is.”
He loosens his hold on me, leaning back as if apologizing.
“Mr. Ben Winter.”
Sam presses his lips.
“My brother.”
He releases a sigh of relief. He even slumps forward, as if he had just escaped punishment.
“He’ll kick your ass if you do something stupid.” I maintain a straight face, even though I’m enjoying teasing Mr. Gray Diamond. My brother is a Taekwondo master, and I wouldn’t ever want to see the two engage in a fight.
“Point taken,” he says, stepping forward, restoring his hold on me and our no-distance position.
“Come on, Sam. If I was married, I wouldn’t have let you kiss me. I’m not that kind of woman.”
I really should go. I should insist. But for the first time in my life, I’m losing a battle of wills with a man. I can’t just have that one kiss tonight—I want more!
And he’s not helping. He caresses my cheek while his other hand rubs the small of my back. His persuasive touch stamps out all resistance within me. I should enjoy this moment and stop analyzing what could be—tomorrow, next week, next month, or even next year. Tonight, I allow myself to admit defeat.
“Please stay,” Sam repeats, just as I’m about to make up my mind.
If there’s ever a sliver of doubt in me, I should simply look out the window to seal my decision. There’s a real storm raging outside. I would be tempting fate if I tried to get home tonight by myself, and I don’t want Sam to risk an accident just for me. I weigh up my options. Grace is safe with Mom, and I’m safe with Sam here.
I’m safe with a man.
Not just for a fleeting moment. I’ve been feeling safe since our first contact today, and I’ll be safe with him tonight—in his arms, in his home.
Three years is a long time to be without a partner, not even a date, and I’ve gotten used to it. For Sam to be able to turn it around in just one night, it’s extraordinary.
I called him Mr. Gray Diamond for something. There may be truth in the saying that diamonds never lie. The more light you shine into them, the more you see their true colors. Whatever I do—kissing him, caressing him, or looking into his eyes, he is constant.
I’m not ready to tear down the dam wall that I built around me, but I’m willing to climb over it to be with Sam. I will test the water which so far has been welcoming me with gentle waves. As long as I don’t drown, if things go astray with Sam, I’ll always be able to turn around and climb that wall again, and return to the safety that I’m used to before I met this man.
As logic is eaten away by desire fast, I conclude that my reasoning is good enough to prove that I haven’t gone completely mad.
“I’ll call my mom,” I say, and he welcomes my decision with a relieved smile.