Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
A TOTAL MISCALCULATION
I arrive at her place twenty minutes early.
I’ve got a surprise for her, and I want some time after I give it to her so she can thank me—if you know what I mean.
Not that twenty minutes is sufficient time for a Sam encounter—it’s really not.
It might be a bad idea to show up early since women need time to get ready, to do all that stuff they do—even if I have no idea what stuff a woman does to get ready.
But I think I’ll risk it since I’m feeling pretty good.
And if twenty minutes is all we have for a proper thank-you, we’ll make it work.
I knock on the door three times and wait. I hear nothing, so I knock again. This time I hear a frustrated little grunt and the clicks of the disengaging locks. It’s going to take her time to get used to them. I wait patiently, holding the box.
When she opens the door, I blink stupidly at her.
She looks stunning in a bright blue dress that doesn’t exactly match her blue eyes, but the deep color enhances them.
Her dark red hair is up, off her neck. Several braids on either side of her head intertwine and meet at the back of her head.
Her lips are glossy red; her makeup is soft and natural.
She’s still barefoot, but I imagine that final addition will be a pair of stilettos—and that thought causes a twitch below my belt.
I take a deep breath—she’s drop-dead gorgeous.
Trying to keep it cool, I smile and say, “You look nice.” I feel a surge of my signature magic power with the ladies and I grace her with one of my cocky smiles. Yeah, Sam Stone is back. I knew I’d finally kicked whatever bug I had when I woke up this morning with a skip in my step.
“Thanks. You look nice, too.”
I’m wearing a finely tailored Hugo Boss suit.
It used to fit a bit better. It’s a little snug tonight.
I need to get back to my workouts. I notice that MacKenzie is staring at me.
Shit, I forgot the box in my hand. I can hardly wait to give it to her; she is gonna love it. And she’s going to be so grateful.
“Here.” I hold the box out to her. “I bought you something.” Here? I bought you something? I sounded like a six-year-old giving his mommy a present. Geez, what happened to my swagger?
“What? Why?” she asks, looking adorably confused.
“Because I wanted to.” I push the box gently toward her.
“Sam, you’ve already spent so much for all this security stuff… the door. I’m never going to be able to repay you. I—”
“Just open it. I saw it in the window and thought you needed it.” I smile brightly. Geez, still in the six-year-old with his mommy mode.
Sighing, she takes the box from my hands and turns to go down the steps. She sets the box on a table and unties the plaid ribbon. Lifting off the top, she sets it aside, pulls the tissue away, and blinks. Her face turns pink.
“It’s a coat,” I announce with pride. “With a matching hat and gloves.” I wince. Still sounding like a six-year-old, Stone.
“I see that,” she says. She looks up at me, and the expression in her eyes is icy. I can’t help noticing how rigid she looks; she appears about six inches taller than she really is. Coldly, she asks, “Why? Why did you get me a coat?”
“Because you needed one.” She did. It’s time for the dumpster for that old one.
“Did I tell you I needed a coat?”
“No, but—”
“Did someone say I needed a coat? Did Lauren mention I needed a coat?”
“No, but—”
“Then why did you buy me a coat?”
“MacKenzie. You’ve got to know—”
“Know what?” She smiles sweetly at me. It’s a setup. I can feel it in my bones. She’s standing rigid as a statue. Her tiny fists are clenched at her sides.
“Um, you had to know your coat is in bad shape.”
“I do. I do know that. But here’s the thing, Sam, I like my coat.”
Shit. Despite the obvious danger I’m putting myself in, I trudge ahead. “Sweetheart, you can’t wear that old coat—”
MacKenzie cuts in. “Yes, I can. No one cares what I wear.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” I say, a little annoyed. “You can’t wear that old coat when we go out.”
I watch as the pink turns into red blotches on her neck that rise to her face. Again, I underestimate the danger I’m in.
MacKenzie smiles, but the smile doesn’t reach her cold eyes. “And… why would it matter what coat I wear? I always take it off as soon as I walk into a place.”
“Not always,” I say under my breath, and try again to reason with her. “Babe, now that you’re with me, I can afford to buy you nicer things, starting with this coat.”
“Now. That. I’m. With. You. Is that what you said?” Her hand is resting flat against her chest.
“Yeah.”
“Who said I was ‘with you’?” She makes little air quotes.
“If you go with me to dinner, you’re with me.” That’s all I meant. Is this hard for her to understand?
“Is my dress okay? I mean, is it good enough?”
“It’s fine.”
“Fine? It’s just fine?” Her voice rises an octave on that second fine.
“It’s okay. Nice. You look pretty.” Holy hell, what were the three rules from her hipster douche gay friend? Oh yeah. I grin. “But you don’t look fat.”
I did it wrong—I can see it on her face. Jesus, I used to be so smooth with the ladies. Why am I not smooth with this woman? I smile hopefully. “Babe?”
“You know what, Sam? Come to think of it, I’m not feeling very well. I think I’m coming down with something.”
“I was, too, but—” She holds up her hand to stop me.
“Hang on one second.” She moves into the bedroom.
It’s at least five minutes before she comes out.
When she does, she is wearing the tightest leggings things I’ve ever seen and an old Chicago Bears sweatshirt that is miles too big for her and slouches off one bare shoulder.
My dick twitches in my pants at the sight, but why did she change?
Her hair is still up, but the lipstick is gone—obviously wiped away.
“You changed?”
“I’m not going.” MacKenzie places the lid back on the box.
The coat looks just like the one she had.
Has. Except the new one is Burberry and it’s cashmere.
It has matching gloves and a hat. Jesus, how the hell did I screw this up?
She can’t possibly want the old coat when she can have this one. Right?
She hands me the box. “No, thank you, Sam. I appreciate it, but no thanks. And here.” She slaps down a small rectangular piece of paper on top. A check.
“What’s that?”
“A check for three thousand dollars for the door. I don’t like owing you. So please cash it. But wait until Monday so I can transfer money into that account, please. But cash it after that. If you don’t, I’ll just get cash to you or Gill somehow.”
“Are you breaking up with me?” I sound whiny.
“Oh, were we in a relationship?” She’s got one hand on her hip. She looks sassy.
“Well, yeah.”
“Hmm, well, I’d beg to differ. The kind of relationships I’m used to require some sort of communication on a regular basis and not through a third party.”
“Yeah, like you’ve got experience with relationships. You told me you’ve never had a boyfriend. I—”
She interrupts again. “Personal relationships. I’ve had plenty of personal relationships.
I’ve had a best friend since I was seven.
My grandfather and I were closer than two people could be, even when we didn’t always get along.
Pops could be stubborn as a mule. But we were always there for each other—always.
” Her face changes from anger to sadness as she remembers her grandfather.
“Baby?” Dammit, I’m whining again.
“Please, just go. Thank you for all of the stuff you did around my place. I’ll always be grateful that I’m safe now.” I watch her walk toward the stairs. She stands at the bottom, waiting for me to leave.
I’m getting pretty sick and tired of this scene repeating itself but I do as she asks.
I lumber past her and up the stairs. I want to say more, but it’s hard to talk with my big, fat, size thirteen foot in my mouth—even if I’m not completely sure how it got there.
I open the door and leave. I pull the door closed and listen as she engages the locks.
“Good girl,” I whisper. I climb into my car wearily and lay my head back on the headrest. “What the hell just happened back there? I totally miscalculated the situation—I miscalculated her.”
I push the start button on the dash. I’m going to be late if I don’t hit the road.
Even if my personal life is imploding, duty still calls.
I don’t want to go—the last thing I want to do is go to dinner with this famous diva singer.
It would have been bearable with my girl beside me.
Not to mention, I bet MacKenzie would have enjoyed meeting a celebrity.
I rub my forehead. It feels warm. “Jesus, I thought I was over this bug, but I guess not.”
I want to talk to someone. I’m not going to call my sister; I don’t want to hear “I told you so.” Same with Gill. I’ll call Mom.
“Mom?”
“Yes, honey. What’s wrong?”
“Why do you guys assume something is wrong when I call?”
“Because it’s Saturday night. Besides, you don’t call me. I call you. It’s our thing.”
Ignoring the comments about our family dynamic, I jump right in. I tell her the entire story about MacKenzie—stopping short of telling her about the break debacle.
“It sounds lovely, darling. So, what’s wrong?”
Taking a deep breath, I launch into the story about the break. I tell her it’s Perri’s fault, but she doesn’t fall for it. I tell her that Gill’s on my ass, even threatening to steal her.
“Gill’s a gorgeous man, but he’s not you, honey.”
My mom’s awesome. She knows how to stroke my ego. “Yeah, well, I screwed it up somehow. I bought her a gift, and she threw it back in my face.”
Mom gasps.
“Not literally. She handed it back to me nicely. Politely, even.”
“Why? What was it?”
“A Burberry trench coat with matching gloves and hat.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely.”
“It is. It’s really nice. I bought it to replace the one she’s using now. The old coat she wears is threadbare, three sizes too big, and it’s not even a winter coat. It’s a raincoat and it’s falling apart.”
“Hmm, when I saw her, she was dressed well. Not in designer clothes, but certainly not cheap. She was dressed to look classic. Timeless. The coat must mean something to her.”
“I asked her on our first date what the story was with the coat.”
“And?”
“And she said there wasn’t a story.”
“Well, now this is a quandary. Do you have any friends in common? Maybe one of them knows the story behind the coat.”
“Yeah, I know her best friend. That’s a good idea. Thanks, Mom. Love you. Bye.” I hang up the phone without another word from her and call Gill.