4. Sami
Chapter Four
SAMI
I’ve spent the last three hours sneaking glances at him between mixing drinks. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t even looked at his phone. He’s just been watching me with those intense eyes that somehow manage to make me feel both protected and hunted at the same time.
The whole situation is surreal.
This morning, I was just another struggling waitress trying to make rent. Now I have a famous musician claiming I’m “his woman,” and my coworker is practically pushing me into his arms.
I grab my purse from under the bar and sign out. My feet ache, my lower back throbs, and my customer service smile has long since faded. All I want is a hot shower and my bed, but the hot water in my apartment has been out for days, so even that small comfort is beyond reach.
Axel stands as I approach and unfolds his tall frame from the small table. “Ready to go, Kitten?”
“Beyond ready.” I adjust the strap of my purse nervously. “It’s been a long night.”
Just then, my stomach lets out a loud, embarrassing growl. I freeze, mortified by the sound.
Axel frowns. “When’s the last time you ate?”
I think back through the day, trying to remember. “I had a muffin this morning.”
“That was hours ago.”
“I’ve been busy.” I cross my arms defensively. “And money’s been tight.”
Something dark flickers across his face. Without another word, he takes my hand and threads his fingers through mine. The contact sends warmth shooting up my arm, and I’m too tired to pull away.
“I know a place that’s open late,” he says, leading me toward the exit.
“Axel, I just want to go home.” But even as I protest, my stomach betrays me with another loud rumble.
“Food first. Then home.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and honestly, I don’t have the energy to fight him.
We walk out into the cool mountain air together, his large hand engulfing mine. The parking lot is mostly empty now, with just a few cars scattered under the streetlights. My green Beetle sits alone in the far corner, looking even more pathetic than usual next to the sleek vehicles around it.
I wrap my free arm around myself, wishing I’d brought a heavier jacket as the night chill cuts right through my thin work clothes. Axel notices immediately.
“Are you cold?” he asks, his eyes scanning my face.
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, even as a shiver runs through me.
Without hesitation, Axel shrugs out of his leather jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. The weight of it settles around me, still warm from his body, and his scent envelops me.
I should protest. I should hand it back and insist I’m fine. Every feminist bone in my body is screaming at me to reject this insane caveman behavior. But the jacket is so warm, and I’m so tired, and it feels so damn good to be taken care of, even in this small way.
“Thank you,” I whisper instead, pulling it tighter around me.
His eyes darken with satisfaction, and I realize I’ve just fed the alpha male beast.
Great job, Sami.
“My truck’s over here,” he says, guiding me toward a massive black pickup that gleams under the parking lot lights.
He opens the passenger door for me, and I climb in, immediately sinking into the plush leather seat. Then we pull out of the parking lot, the engine a quiet purr beneath us.
“Lainey mentioned you’re new in town,” Axel says finally, his eyes on the road ahead.
“Yeah, I’m still pretty new. I moved here three months.” I look out the window at the darkened storefronts of Cooper Heights. “Still figuring things out.”
“Where were you before?”
“Connecticut.” I trace a pattern on the leather armrest. “Fairfield County. Land of hedge fund managers and country clubs.”
He glances at me. “That’s a long way from Wyoming.”
“That was kind of the point.”
“What brought you here?”
I consider deflecting, giving the abbreviated version I usually offer. But something about the darkness of the truck cab and the way he asks makes me want to be honest.
“Freedom, I guess.” I watch his profile as he drives.
“My parents had my whole life mapped out. Prestigious college, law degree, corporate job, marriage to someone from their social circle. When I dropped out to pursue music instead, they cut me off. Made it clear I wasn’t welcome in their world anymore unless I gave up my ‘foolish dreams’ and went back to finish my degree. ”
His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “What kind of music?”
“Piano, mainly.” I smile despite myself. “I want to score films eventually. Create the soundtracks that make scenes come alive.”
“That’s incredible.” His voice is warm. “Film scoring is competitive as hell, but if you’re good enough to leave your family behind for it, you must be talented.”
I feel heat creep up my neck. I’m not used to people taking my dreams seriously.
“I’m working on building a portfolio. Recording equipment is expensive, though, so it’s slow going.”
“You should play for me sometime.”
My chest tightens with anxiety.
“I don’t really perform for people,” I say quickly, looking out the window again.
“Why not?”
Because the last time I played for someone who mattered, they told me I was wasting my time.
Because my parents’ friends used to request songs at dinner parties just so they could talk over my playing.
Because putting my music out there feels like handing someone a loaded gun and asking them to aim it at my heart.
“I just prefer to keep it private,” I say instead.
He’s quiet for a moment, and I can feel him processing my response.
“I get that,” he says finally. “Music is personal. Sacred, even. But someday, when you’re ready, I’d love to hear what you create.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard.
“Maybe,” I whisper, and I’m surprised to find I might actually mean it.
We pull into the parking lot of a small diner I recognize but have never been inside. The neon sign reads “Owen’s Table.” I look up at the elegant Victorian building with its warm golden lights illuminating the windows.
“This place is still open?” I ask. Owen’s Table is the most upscale restaurant in Fit Mountain. I’ve walked past it during my afternoon strolls, but always assumed it was well beyond my budget.
“The kitchen closes at 3 AM.” Axel parks the truck and comes around to open my door before I can reach for the handle. “The owner’s an insomniac who believes good food should be available at all hours.”
“But I’m not dressed for?—”
“You’re perfect.” He takes my hand again, helping me down from the high seat of his truck.
The moment we walk through the door, I feel painfully out of place. The interior is all polished wood and soft lighting, with white tablecloths and crystal glasses catching the glow of candles. A few late-night diners in business attire occupy corner tables, speaking in hushed tones.
The hostess’s eyes light up the moment she sees us.
“Mr. Ruins! So wonderful to see you again.” She practically trips over herself greeting him.
“Table for two, Angela.” He laces his fingers through mine again. “The usual spot if it’s available.”
“Of course. Right this way.” She grabs two leather-bound menus and leads us through the dimly lit restaurant before seating us at a corner table partially screened by a decorative partition.
“Carlo will be right with you.” She smiles warmly at Axel, then glances at me with barely concealed curiosity before walking away.
I settle into the plush chair across from him. “I’m guessing you come here often?”
“Whenever I’m in town.” He doesn’t even open his menu. “The owner’s son used to play drums for Highland Rye before we got signed.”
A waiter appears beside our table, a bottle of red wine already in hand.
“Mr. Ruins, wonderful to see you back in Fit Mountain. The usual?”
“Thanks, Carlo. And we’ll have the chef’s selection. Tell Emilio I’m introducing someone special to his food.”
Someone special. The phrase makes my stomach flip.
I should object to him ordering for me without asking, but honestly, I’m too tired to study a menu, and the confident way he handles everything is strangely appealing after months of making every decision alone.
“You didn’t even ask what I like to eat,” I point out as Carlo pours the wine.
Axel leans forward, elbows on the table. “Do you trust me?”
The question feels weighted with meaning beyond food choices. “I barely know you.”
“But Ruby and Clay trust me. Lainey, too.” His eyes hold mine. “That counts for something, right?”
He has me there. In the three months I’ve been in Fit Mountain, Clay and Ruby have been nothing but kind to me. If they vouch for Axel, maybe he isn’t the entitled rock star I initially pegged him for.
“Fine. But if you order anything with olives, I’m walking out.”
He grins, and it transforms his face completely.
“Noted. No olives.”
The wine is rich and smooth, nothing like the cheap bottles I usually buy. I take another sip and let the warmth spread through me.
“So, is it true what Ruby said about you dating Lainey?” I ask, trying to understand the strange relationships in this town. “Before she married your dad?”
Axel laughs. The sound is a deep rumble that makes something flutter in my chest.
“Yeah. It’s ancient history, though. Lainey and I dated for a few months after her dad passed away.
But we figured out pretty quickly that we were better off as friends.
Not to mention that I wasn’t the greatest boyfriend back then.
” He takes a sip of wine. “Right after that, she and my dad sort of…connected.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“It was weird at first,” he admits. “But they’re happy. Really happy. And in Fit Mountain, when you find your person, you don’t question it.”
“Your person,” I repeat, remembering Ruby’s words. “Is that what this ‘Fit Mountain curse’ thing is about?”
Something shifts in his expression.
“It’s not really a curse. More like recognition. When certain men from the mountains meet the woman they’re meant to be with, they just know. Instantly.”
Carlo returns with our first course, saving me from having to respond. The food is exquisite. The sea scallops are drowning in a buttery sauce that makes me close my eyes in pleasure.
“Good?” Axel asks, watching me intently.
I nod, savoring another bite. “Amazing.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to check the message, frowning at what I see.
“Problem?” Axel asks.
“I just got a text from my landlord. The hot water in my apartment’s been out for days, and he just texted that it’ll be at least another week before they can fix it.” I rub my temples. “Apparently, they need a part that has to be special-ordered.”
“A week without hot water?” Axel looks appalled.
“Welcome to the joys of renting the cheapest apartment in Fit Mountain.” I try for a light tone, but frustration bleeds through. “Cold showers build character, right?”
Axel’s expression darkens. “Where exactly do you live?”
“The Pines Apartments on Westfield.” I push my food around my plate. “It’s not great, but it’s what I can afford right now.”
“The Pines?” His voice is dangerously quiet. “That place should be condemned.”
“It’s fine. Just old. The heater makes weird noises, the windows leak when it rains, and there’s a family of mice living in the walls that I’ve named after the Beatles.”
“Stay with me,” Axel growls.
I nearly choke on my wine. “What?”
“Stay at my place until your hot water’s fixed.” His tone is matter-of-fact.
My first instinct is to refuse. I don’t need charity. I don’t need rescuing. I’ve been taking care of myself since I left Connecticut.
“I couldn’t ask you to do something like that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
I study his face, looking for the angle, the hidden expectation. But all I see is genuine concern.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask finally. “You met me today. You don’t owe me anything.”
The intensity in his expression returns. “I told you, Kitten. You’re mine to take care of.”
I should correct him about the nickname.
I should set more boundaries. I should be stronger.
But after months of struggling alone, of cold showers and mounting bills and an apartment that’s falling apart around me, the idea of being taken care of, even temporarily, is more tempting than I want to admit.
I look up at Axel, at his confident expression and those eyes that seem to see right through me. At the man who has Clay and Ruby’s complete trust. At the warm food and expensive wine and the promise of a hot shower.
“Just until the water’s fixed,” I hear myself say. “And I pay for groceries.”
His smile is triumphant but gentle. “We’ll see about that.”