Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
He cannot be serious right now? He’s actually going to go to Texas to look into my mother’s murder.
“What exactly does your mother do?” I ask, because it’s not normal for mothers to be so onboard with going on a murder investigation with their sons.
Sammie leans against the counter with a smile on his face. “She’s the best hitwoman this country has ever seen,” he says as if he’s proud of the fact.
“Your mother kills people? For money?”
“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds bad. She’s not a bad person, Poppy.”
“She kills people for money,” Poppy repeats.
“She has only ever taken on hits that align with her morals. She doesn’t kill innocent people.”
“Oh, so people like my mother? People who just happen to get caught in the crosshairs of cartel deals, right?” I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you looking into my mother’s murder.
I don’t want you here. I don’t want you, Sammie.
” My voice gets louder and louder with each word.
The asshole doesn’t even flinch. Not a single muscle on his stupidly-sexy body moves.
No, he continues smiling at me like a damn insane person.
Then again, he is an insane person, and I’m even more insane, because I’m standing here trying my best to hate him and not let the tingles in my vagina lead to shitty decision making.
“You want me here,” he says with a confidence I want to slap right off his face.
“No, I don’t.”
“Then why are your cheeks flushed?” He takes a single step towards me. “Why is your chest rising and falling faster? Your heart beating quicker?” Another step. “Why are your nipples pebbled beneath that flimsy cotton shirt?” Another step.
“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s cold,” I tell him.
“It’s California, babe. It’s never cold here.” Sammie keeps walking until his arm snakes around my back.
He drags my body flush with his, and that need between my legs intensifies. He’s right. It’s not cold in here. It’s so freaking hot with Sammie’s naked chest pressed up against my hands, which was my lame attempt to put distance between us. All it’s done is make me want him more.
My hands have a mind of their own as they travel down over his pecs, heading south towards that eight-pack I’ve enjoyed licking. Maybe one or two more rides on this roller coaster aren’t such a bad idea. I mean, I’m capable of having an orgasm and walking away. I’ve done it before.
Sammie’s hands move downwards, gripping my ass. He lifts, and then I’m placed on the counter. My legs open and he steps between them. “Admit it. You want me.”
“I want your body. I don’t want you,” I tell him.
The corner of his mouth tips upwards. “I’m okay with you using me for my body, babe.”
“Okay, so meaningless sex and then you leave?” I ask him.
Sammie stills. The hands that were pulling the hem of my shirt stop. His chest heaves as he inhales. Then he lets go of me completely and takes a step backwards. “Nothing about us is ever going to be meaningless, Poppy. And I’m not fucking leaving you. Ever.”
“Everyone leaves, Sammie. It’s easy. All you have to do is walk right out that door…” I gesture an arm behind us. “…and keep walking.”
“Easy?” Sammie takes another step backwards, returning to where he was leaning against my counter. One leg crossed in front of the other and his arms folded over his chest.
“Yeah, easy. The door is right there.” I point to the front door.
“Leaving you is anything but easy, Poppy. Don’t you think if I could let you go, I would have? I know how fucking selfish I’m being dragging you down to my level, into my fucked-up life. But I need you. I want you, and I know you want this too.”
“We’ve known each other for a couple of weeks, Sammie. You’re making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be.”
He doesn’t say anything. His right hand reaches up, and his fingers drag across his jawline as he continues to stare at me. It’s unnerving.
“What the hell are you staring at?”
“Oh, me?” He points to the center of his chest. “I’m just waiting for you to cut the bullshit and stop lying to yourself and me. I’ve never lied to you, Poppy. I’d appreciate the same kind of respect.”
I blink. Well, that is not what I was expecting. “You want the truth?”
“I would love the truth,” he says.
“Fine.” I throw my hands in the air. “I like you, Sammie. I like you a whole damn lot. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.
I haven’t been able to sleep for the past week without you.
I think about you more than I am ever going to admit, and I think I’m falling in love with you.
Wait! I don’t think… I am falling in love with you.
And that makes me a shitty fucking person.
What kind of daughter falls in love with someone whose family was responsible for their mother’s murder? I’m an awful person.”
“Poppy, you are the furthest thing from an awful person. And I would know. I’ve dealt with awful fucking people in my line of work.
” He doesn’t move, just stays by the counter, which is good.
I don’t need him touching me and making me more confused than I already am.
“And you’re right. We haven’t known each other long.
But I know you, Poppy, and you know me. Also, do you really think your mom or dad would want you to not be happy? ”
“My mom would want me to be happy. My dad didn’t care enough about me,” I admit. “Parents who care about their kids don’t kill themselves and leave them orphans.”
“Okay, how about we come up with a plan?”
“A plan? For what?”
“For us,” Sammie says. “Because I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, no matter what happens. But I get that you need more time and you need proof that my family didn’t have anything to do with your mother’s death. And I need time to find you that proof.”
“You really believe that your uncle didn’t do it?” I ask him.
“I know he didn’t,” Sammie assures me.
I don’t know what to say. I want to be able to believe him.
I really do, because I really am falling in love with him.
It’s too soon, and probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done and I will more than likely regret it for the rest of my life.
Whatever heartbreak comes from this, it’s not one I’ll recover from.
“Fuck it.” I’ve been miserable this past week without him. Maybe there’s more to the ignorance thing my mom did than I thought. “Blissful ignorance,” I say aloud.
“What?”
“I’m choosing blissful ignorance. It’s what my mom used to say to my dad when he’d come home late, or he’d disappear for days.
Blissful ignorance. It means I don’t need to know the details.
I can choose to look the other way and just be happy,” I explain.
“I want to be ignorant. I want to go back to before I knew Emmanuel Lopez was your uncle. I want to go back to where we were having fun and orgasms, lots of orgasms.”
“I should jump on this train of thought, the ignorance thing. But I can’t let you do that to yourself, Poppy.”
“You don’t get to decide what I do for myself,” I tell him.
“I want you to choose me, to choose us, knowing the truth and everything. I don’t want you to have to look the other way if I come home late or covered in someone else’s blood. I don’t want you to have to pretend I’m someone I’m not in order to be with me.”
“I know who you are, Sammie. And the fucked-up thing is I do still want you despite it. I know it doesn’t make sense.
I hate someone for what happened to my mother, and yet I’m completely fine with the knowledge that you kill other people.
People I don’t know. I should care. They’re someone’s family too, right? ”
“Okay, like I said, I think we need a plan. Let’s agree to put a pause on the discussion of us until after I find out what happened to your parents. You need closure, and until you get that, I don’t think you’re ever going to be able to let yourself be truly happy,” he says.
“What do we do?” I ask him.
“You come to Texas with me,” he says. He winces when he adds, “And my mom.”
Go to Texas with him and his mom? Just like that? “I’m supposed to be looking for a retail space. I need to set up a new spa.”
“I happen to know a guy who owns several retail spaces in a very prime location,” Sammie tells me.
“Who? And where?” I ask.
“Me, and along the Vegas Strip.”
“It’s a bit far from here. Not sure I can make the commute every day,” I tell him.
“We can talk about it after,” he says. “Pack a bag. You’re coming back to Texas.”
I smile. If I’m going to fully give into this blissful ignorance thing, then I’m going to get the benefits of it.
“Can I come right here first?” I spread my legs open as wide as they’ll go.