Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Sam
A full night’s sleep had done us both good. Mikayla’s mood had softened, though the accident wasn’t far removed from her mind. She’d been holed up in my house for two days, and with every hour, I could see more of the stress melting off her shoulders. Slowly but surely it was happening.
I poured the last cup of coffee from the pot, set it on the counter, and started a fresh one.
I think I’d drank more coffee in the last forty-eight hours than I had in the past month.
Across the room, she paced in front of the fireplace like she was wearing a trench into the hardwood.
My phone in one hand, hers in the other.
She cursed under her breath every few seconds — something about insurance being impossible without the police report and photos, all trapped in that storm-drowned mess of a car.
They weren’t listening. She was doing everything she could, but they weren’t listening.
I had offered to assist in the phone calls, but my girl was stubborn.
Too stubborn to let me help. I gave her space, but didn’t move far in case she changed her mind.
Two sharp, impatient knocks hit the front door. I glanced at Mikayla.
“I thought you said the roads weren’t clear yet, Sam.”
“I didn’t think they were. Maybe it’s Nash or someone with news about your car. Be right back.”
But when I opened the door without looking through the window, I almost shut it again. Crystal stood on my porch, wrapped in snowflakes and smugness. Before I could ask what she wanted, she stepped inside without an invite.
“Can I help you?”
Her eyes flicked past me and lit up with glee. “Is that little Mickie Turner?” She shook snow out of her long blond hair and kicked off her boots. “What’s she doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” I crossed my arms. “You don’t look surprised.”
“Well, Bonnie…”
Bonnie would never give up anything about her best friend, not when she and Crystal had a longstanding history that wasn’t great. Even though Bonnie was friendly with Crystal, she wouldn’t share openly. “Bonnie, what?”
“I may have overheard her on the phone at Brighton Market.” Crystal shrugged.
“Mickie’s home for the wedding. The storm knocked her car off the road and into a tree.”
Crystal snorted. “And she ended up here. How convenient.”
“What’s your problem? I needed stitches and almost totaled my car. Do you have one ounce of sympathy in your stupid body or is your heart filled with silicone too?” Mickie crossed the room and stood in the hallway, bristling.
Crystal turned to her with a sugar-sweet smile. “Well, hello there! My goodness, you’ve grown.” Her tone dripped with a condescending lilt. “No, honey. I’ve never had plastic surgery. I do know a guy. Your nose…”
“I got injured if you care,” Mikayla stated. “Maybe all the bleach saturating your hair went straight through to your brain.”
My ex-wife glared but as she opened her mouth, I held up a hand.
“Woah,” I said, cutting in before this turned into round two of whatever fight they’d had years ago. “Enough. Both of you.” I shot Mickie a look. She caught it. Barely. I turned back to Crystal. “What do you need? If it’s nothing urgent, I’m in the middle of something.”
“Babysitting? I do hope you’ve raised your rates,” Crystal laughed but nothing was funny.
Mickie sucked in a breath beside me, sharp and angry.
“Unless this is about something real, Criss, I’m busy.” I grabbed her coat and scarf from the bench and held them out to her.
“I’m getting there,” she said, ignoring my hint entirely. She batted her long eyelashes like a peacock preening. It was incredibly annoying. “Sorry, kid. I’ve got big important adult things to discuss with Sam.” Her sweet tone was faker than her eyelashes.
I shot her a look. My last warning look. The one I usually gave right before someone found themselves bent over a desk.
Crystal saw it and she grinned. “Oh no,” she whispered dramatically, “am I gonna get in trouble?”
“Kitchen. Now. Make it quick.”
She flounced past us, all hips and perfume, brushing against my arm like she still had the right to touch me intimately.
“I should go,” Mickie muttered behind me. “She made it here through the snow, so clearly it’s no big deal.”
I turned to her, cupped her chin, and tilted her face up to mine. “We aren’t doing this again. Criss won’t be here long. Go relax.”
Mickie tugged out of my grip and glared toward the kitchen like she could incinerate my ex with a look. “Whatever.”
“There it is,” I said.
“What?”
“Your ‘fastest way to get Sam’s attention’ tone.”
“No,” she said, her cheeks going pink. “Maybe.”
“I’d bet your backside is still tender from my belt yesterday. Apologize for your attitude and listen.”
“Sorry.”
She said it quietly, then took Crystal’s soaked things and laid them near the fire.
That she cared about being kind, even to someone who never showed her any kindness, wasn’t lost on me.
It wasn’t comfortable to put on cold, wet items designed to keep warmth in. Yet another reason I loved her so much.
“I forgive you, Mickie.”
“What would you like me to do?”
I narrowed my eyes slightly. “Go sit. You’re not ready for another adjustment yet.”
Her eyes darkened. “Maybe that’s exactly what I need. Another adjustment.”
I stared at her, hard. She scrunched her nose up at me like she hadn’t just said that with her whole chest. “After Criss leaves, I’ll get to the bottom of your attitude. Don’t fight me right now just because you’re upset with my ex.”
She pouted, then finally sighed. “You’re right. I want your attention and I’m pushing because she’s acting like an entitled bitch.”
“She doesn’t mean anything to me, babygirl. You do,” I promised, brushing a kiss to her cheek before turning toward the kitchen.
When I walked in, Crystal was already perched on the breakfast stool, sipping my coffee from her favorite mug.
How the hell had she found it so fast? I’d shoved it in the back of the cabinet years ago, instead of tossing it into the garbage.
Her nephew had made it when he was younger and I didn’t have the heart to throw it away.
“You have the best coffee bar outside of Creekside Roast.” She said almost purring as she watched me.
The worst part of our relationship was that I’d watched her interact with others and understood that her bravado was false.
She desperately sought someone to love her, but her lack of self-worth convinced her that she didn’t deserve love.
Unfortunately, as much as I tried, I hadn’t been able to convince her that she did.
“What do you need to discuss, Criss?”
She smiled broadly. “Doc Weaver’s got the offer of a lifetime. Ministry work. Costa Rica. They want to fly him out for a few weeks. All expenses paid.”
“And?”
“If no one takes over the clinic, he won’t go.” She sipped from the mug a few times. “This could be huge for him.”
I leaned on the counter, wary. “You came all the way out here to tell me that?”
“You’re one of his closest friends. If you offer to cover the clinic, he can’t say no.”
“Why do you care so much?”
Her smile thinned. “Maybe I want you to give me my flu shot this year.”
I exhaled slowly through my nose. “If this is about Doc, I’ll help however I can. But I’m not in the mood for games, Criss.”
She leaned forward, dropped her voice. “Sure, handsome. That means you do want to see me again, even if it’s for a medical reason.”
I stared at her. “Don’t call me anything but my name. If there’s nothing else pressing then you need to go home. Take your mug with you. Drive safe.”
She washed her mug in the sink and wrapped it in paper towels.
Though she didn’t thank me, I could see that she appreciated the sentimental item.
Crystal stepped to my feet and boldly planted a kiss on my cheek which I wiped off with my hand.
The gesture didn’t deter her in any way.
I followed her to the door. She saw her things were dry, warmed by the fire, but put them on without any acknowledgement.
“See you later, Sam.” She glided out of the door without another glance. I locked the door before walking into the living room. Mikayla sat on the couch, quiet as a mouse.
“Did you hear our conversation, babygirl?”
“Why would I care what she has to say to you?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No, okay?” She huffed. “I didn’t. I’m pissed off about the situation I’m in. I don’t have the energy to care what Brighton Creek Barbie—” Her eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth.
I bit the inside of my cheek. Harsh, but not entirely inaccurate. “Something’s up with her,” I said, settling onto the couch beside her and pulling her into my side. “But I’ve got no idea what it is. Now, tell me what’s really bugging you?”
“I’m overwhelmed. It’s a lot. I just want to forget everything.”
“Well,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze, “I can help with that.”
She bit her lip, maybe regretting the little jab she’d thrown earlier, but finally nodded. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. I’m starting to think that you need a hot bottom every day.” She shifted across my lap without another word. I left her pants in place—this wasn’t a punishment, only a reminder—and brought my palm down on the sit spots.
“Ouch!”
I gave her a couple more across each cheek, then a firm one dead center. She whimpered softly. “I’d rather give you a dozen orgasms instead of a dozen spanks. I’ll do whatever you need, but I’d really like you to trust me enough to listen.”
“I know, Sam. I understand. Besides, I told Bonnie what a brat I was,” she murmured, turning back to climb into my lap again. “I’m pissed that she told the whole town I was back even if she didn’t mean it.” She caught herself. “I mean that I’m visiting. I’m back to visit.”
I kissed her temple. “Try not to worry. Bonnie is a gossip queen, but she usually doesn’t mean to be one. We’ll figure it out. Together.”