Epilogue
LOS CABOS (THREE WEEKS LATER)
Sam’s fingers traced over the initials R.M.H., and a smile skirted her lips.
“Ride me hard, maybe?” A voice like rough velvet blew over her bare shoulder, and her palms flattened onto the bar.
“If you’d like to,” Sam whispered, goose bumps spreading over every inch of her skin when his hand slipped to her hip.
Owen spun her around in one quick movement, and she looped her arms around his neck. “You’re back.”
“I’m back.” He edged closer and captured her mouth, kissing her with a ferocity that she’d missed over the seven days he’d been gone.
Everything sizzled inside of her, a warmth spreading through her limbs now that he was safe and with her. When their kiss ended, and he pulled back, her brows drew together at the sight of a new cut along his right temple, disappearing into his hair. “You got hurt.”
“Just a scratch.” Lightly shaking his head, he motioned for her to have a seat at the bar. Once she complied, he rested a hand on her jean-covered thigh.
“I have to admit,” she said with a smile, “getting a text to meet you here . . . you surprised me.”
“You opposed to a weekend getaway?” He ordered a round of drinks and looked back at her.
“Of course not. This past week has been hell. I buried myself in work so I didn’t think about what could be happening.” She cleared her throat. “And what did happen?”
“How is working with your father, by the way?”
Eerily normal, given what happened. “Don’t change the subject.” A smile teased her lips.
He reached for her hand on her lap and squeezed it. “I’m here, and I’m fine. The bad guys—not so much.” Owen winked, but then went quiet for a moment. He smoothed the back of his free hand over her cheek. “Do you want me to quit?”
Her eyes stretched at his words. “No.” She shook her head, no doubt in her mind as to her answer. “I would never ask you to do that.”
“I don’t want you to be a nervous wreck every time I’m gone.” His hand dropped from her cheek. “I could take a position at BUD/S. Be a teacher.”
She almost laughed. “Funny.”
“I’m serious.”
She pivoted on her stool to better face him. “I love who you are, and I don’t want to change you. It may never get easy waiting for you, but I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. Finally.”
“We can revisit this conversation when you’re in your forties.” She smiled. “That was when you originally planned to retire, right?” She thought back to what he’d told her about running the bar with his brother.
He released a lungful of air. “Deal.” Their arms fell between them, and he leaned forward to kiss her.
“But why are we here, at this exact spot?”
He sat up straight and took a sip of his drink. “Because the night I met you here changed my life.”
“But I lied to you; doesn’t that taint the memories?”
“That’s why we’re here. To make new memories.” His brows lifted and fell quickly and he tilted his head toward the DJ who played the song “Something Just Like This,” by the Chainsmokers and Coldplay.
“Perfect song, huh?”
He stood and extended his palm. “I’m Owen York. I love flying, chasing down bad guys, and hot fudge sundaes.” He shook her hand, and she chuckled. “And I love you so damn much.”
She rose, allowing his warm hand to continue to envelop hers. “I’m Samantha McCarthy, and I’m starting to hate flying a little less, and I’m beginning to believe in fairy tales and superheroes. And I’m never opposed to ice cream.”
He gently yanked her against him, her body colliding with his.
“Oh!” She smiled. “And I love you, too.”
CHARLESTON (TWO WEEKS LATER)
“You have to wear the blindfold. I don’t trust you won’t look.” Sam folded her arms and glared at Owen.
“Fine. Fine.” He surrendered his palms, and she wrapped a red tie around his eyes and knotted it. “But I’m telling you, I’ll pass your test.”
“Sure, you can identify every smell. Blah blah. Heard it before.” She went over to grab her prepared bottles from behind the bar.
The tavern was closed down for the winter, and so she and Owen had the place to themselves for the weekend.
Her gaze swung to the spot where Brad had proposed, but guilt didn’t claw at her; in fact, she was pretty sure Brad and Jason would want nothing more than for them to be happy.
Even her dad had told her last week, “Brad would approve. Owen York is one hell of a man.” She didn’t need her father to convince her of that, though.
“Okay.” She came back in front of him and held an open bottle out.
He leaned forward and breathed in the scent. “Eucalyptus.” He shook his head as if unimpressed by her attempt to outsmart his super-nose.
She waved the tin of coffee beans in front of him before offering the second scent. “Next one.”
“Funny,” he said. “You added basil to the aniseed. Nice try.”
“Oh my God, you’re ridiculous.” She chuckled.
He shrugged and his smile stretched.
“Okay. Give me a second. I have something you won’t guess.”
She hurried around to the side of the bar, where she’d asked Owen’s neighbor from the townhouse next door to wait for her.
“Thank you,” she said in a hushed voice, and the old man saluted her before she tentatively walked back inside.
Before she had a chance to test Owen’s nose, a howl erupted at her side, and Owen quickly shoved off the tie and stood. His eyes fell to the dog on the leash, and she lifted her shoulders.
“What’s going on?” He crouched to pet the dog. “Why do you have a Siberian Husky?”
She squatted along the other side of the black and white dog and found Owen’s eyes, but the dog lifted his nose and bumped her in the face.
“When we were in Mexico, it got me to thinking about what you said about having a dog.”
“Okay.” He cocked his head, still petting the dog.
She stood upright and pressed her palms to her hips. “When I was grabbing us breakfast in town yesterday morning, I saw this handsome guy at a rescue shelter. His blue eyes roped me in.”
“That’s why you were gone so long?” He arched a brow.
She nodded. “I have to bring him back later for the rest of the papers and stuff, but they let me bring him here to meet you first.”
“You’re adopting him?” He rose and cupped the back of his neck.
“We work a lot, but maybe between the two of us—we could take care of him?” Nerves tangled in her throat. “He needed a home, and I thought who better to—”
Owen sidestepped the dog, grabbed hold of her, and kissed her, seizing her words and her train of thought. But at the feel of the dog’s paws at their sides, he released her and laughed.
“I think he’s letting me know you’re his,” he said with a smile.
“There’s enough of me for the both of you.” She swallowed and reached down to pet him again. “His name is Ollie, and he’s ten. Old, I know. But, I mean, he was born the year that . . .” She let her words trail off, knowing Owen would connect the dots.
“I love him.” He dropped to one knee to get closer to Ollie, but extended a hand to her, only to surprise her by pulling her to the ground next to him.
He fell all the way back, and Ollie climbed up on top of his chest as if to make the claim that he’d be the alpha of the house.
Good luck with that. “I really like him.”
“Yeah, as long as he doesn’t try and kick me out of bed at night, we’ll be good.” Owen sat upright and reached out to scratch the back of Ollie’s ear. “She’s all mine in the bedroom, you got it? No compromising on that.”
Ollie got up on his hind legs and began to howl.
“Thank you,” he said, and she could hear the emotion catching in his throat.
“For the dog?”
“For everything.” Water started to pool in his eyes, and her lip trembled at the sight. “For making me so damn happy.” He reached for her and pulled her onto his lap.
“Then I should be thanking you, too.” A flutter of quick kisses met her lips, and her heart tripled in size. “There’s no place in the world I’d rather be than with you.”