Chapter 5
Sam sat by the back window, strumming chords while the melody worked itself out in his head. After they finally got up, he and Carly had quickly realized they’d be spending the day near the fireplace. The rest of the house was colder than a refrigerator. Outside, the world glistened beneath a sheen of ice. It coated everything, the house, the trees, the road.
It meant Carly wasn’t going home today. He didn’t mind. Didn’t think she did either. They were having themselves a hell of a sleepover party, and he intended to enjoy every moment. That, and write as much new music as he could while he still had his muse here for inspiration.
“Back in Black” started playing on his cell phone—the ring tone he’d set for his manager, Donny. Sam almost turned it off. He’d charged his phone this morning in case his parents had called, not to take more flak from Donny. Although…
He brought the phone to his ear. “Donny.”
“Sam!” Donny’s voice boomed over the line. “Listen, I need you back here ASAP.”
“What happened to writing my next hit?” he asked drily.
“We’ll worry about that later,” Donny said. “I just got off the phone with Tina Torrey’s manager. She wants to record a duet.”
“A duet with Tina Torrey?” Sam had met her a few times. She sang edgy rock-laced pop, real cute with jet-black hair and overdone makeup. And she was hot, as in burning-up-the-charts hot. His interest was definitely piqued.
“Recording as soon as next week. We want it all over the airwaves this summer. This is your splashy comeback, Sam. We’ll follow it up with a new album.”
“Send me what you’ve got. I’ll give you my final decision after I’ve heard the tune, but unofficially…I’ll do it,” Sam said. He respected Tina Torrey and her music. Collaborating with her was a good move.
“Awesome, man, will do. I’ll go ahead and charter a flight for you.”
“Better check the weather first,” Sam said. “We’ve had an ice storm here in North Carolina.”
“We?” Curiosity dripped from Donny’s voice.
“Me, and the rest of the town. Couldn’t get out if I wanted to.”
“Right, well, let me see what I can do. I’ll be in touch.” A click signaled the end of the call.
Sam powered off his phone. He wasn’t checking it again until Carly had left. Donny and his hit-making duet would have to wait.
“A duet, huh?” Carly said, coming to stand beside him at the window.
“Yeah.”
“I like it.” She smiled softly, her brown eyes twinkling with the reflection of the icicles outside.
“Could be just what I need.”
“I think so, too.” She gazed out the window. “It’s beautiful out there.”
So was she, her hair loose and wavy, dressed in his shirt and sweatpants. He picked up his guitar.
“So beautiful,” he sang. “The world melts away when I look in her eyes.”
“I could listen to you sing all day.” She slid onto his knees, the guitar between them.
“I could sing to you all day.” He leaned forward to kiss her. He’d written four songs since he met her yesterday. At this rate, he’d have enough music written to record a new album once Donny got that flight chartered. But after a month of biding his time in Haven, waiting to escape, now that he was truly trapped, he no longer wanted to leave.
He sang what he had so far on the song he was calling “Crazy Beautiful” while Carly leaned in close, watching him play. When he’d finished, there were tears in her eyes.
“That was beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”
He set his guitar on the floor and tugged her closer.
She pressed a kiss against his lips. “You’ve done it.”
“Done what?”
“Written your next big hit.”
“You think so?”
She nodded. “I can’t wait to listen to it in my headphones while I bake.”
He chuckled. “I can just see you now. I’d love to see you bake sometime, you know.”
“I’d love to see you sing. Really sing. Up onstage.” Her sunny eyes clouded. “You’ll be flying home when the roads clear up, right? I don’t even know where you live. This is so weird.”
Yeah, it was weird. This felt like so much more than a casual hookup, and he didn’t even know her last name. “I live in Calabasas, outside Los Angeles, and yeah, I’m going home soon.” Much sooner than he’d thought. He rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t know your last name, Beautiful Carly from the Bakery.”
“Taylor. Carly Taylor.” Her brow scrunched. “Do you do this a lot? Sleep with women you barely know?”
Well, hell, they were getting into it now. “Have I? Yes. Do I make a habit of it? No.”
“I haven’t,” she whispered. “I’ve never even kissed a man the same day I met him.”
“Do you regret it?”
She looked up, meeting his eyes. “Not even a little bit. Soon I’ll go back to my bakery, and you’ll go home to California, but I’ll never regret a single minute of this.”
“Good.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. “I need you to know that this isn’t just meaningless sex for me either, Carly. The circumstances are wild, but this is something special. I mean that.”
She blinked quickly. “That better not be a line, Mr. Fancy Pants Rock Star.”
He chuckled. “You’ll have to take my word for it. No lines.”
She scooted closer in his arms. “So tell me about your life in LA. What do you do when women aren’t flinging their panties at you onstage?”
“Business shit takes up a painful amount of my day. What photo goes on the next single, what brand of water should I be seen drinking on tour.” He hesitated. “Why did my last album sell five million fewer copies than the others?”
She sucked in a breath. “Really?”
He nodded. “It was a commercial flop. That’s why my manager sent me out here to the mountains. Between that and the mess with Miriam, he needed me out of the spotlight for a few months until he came up with a splashy way to bring me out of my slump.”
“The duet,” she said.
“If it works out.”
“I hope it does.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “My bakery has been in a slump since I took over the reins from my grandmother, too. Profits are way down.”
“Well, it sure as hell isn’t a reflection of your baking skills. Maybe you need some advice on the business end of things.”
“Maybe.” She looked away. “I’ve been too embarrassed to ask for help.”
“Your grandma still around?” he asked.
“Yeah. She comes in a few mornings a week for breakfast.” A soft smile curved her lips.
“Then you know who to ask for advice.”
She pressed a hand over her eyes. “I’ve been so afraid of letting her down, but you’re right. She’ll know exactly what to do.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say he wanted to come back to A Piece of Cake someday, to see her again, maybe meet her grandma. But he knew better than to make promises he couldn’t keep.
The world outsidelooked like it had been dipped in glass. A thick coating of ice covered everything in sight, shimmering in color now as the sun began to set. Carly stood at the big window in the living room, looking out at the frozen landscape. “We should bring in some more firewood before it gets dark.”
“On it.” Sam grabbed the wood carrier and walked to the back door.
She watched as he crossed the back deck and filled the carrier with firewood. Thank goodness this place was stocked with plenty of it. They could have made do without a fire in the fireplace, but having it had made things so much more comfortable.
Her gaze fell to a stack of board games on a shelf beside the door. Grinning, she crouched beside it for a closer look. There was everything from Trivial Pursuit to Charades, and oh, this could be fun.
Sam stepped back inside with a basket full of wood. “This should last us until morning.”
“So should these,” she said, carrying an armload of games to the coffee table.
He glanced over his shoulder as he stacked wood in front of the fireplace, eyebrows raised. “You sure about this?”
Her grin widened. “Better bring your A-game, hot shot.”
“Never leave home without it.” He rummaged through the stack, coming up with a game called Battle of the Sexes: Blind Date Edition. “Sounds appropriate.”
“So it does.” She sat on the floor opposite him while he dumped out the cards.
The game proved to be pretty silly. It was based on stereotypical gender norms that she wasn’t too fond of, testing their knowledge about the opposite sex with various trivia questions, but Carly hopped up for a victory dance after she correctly identified a photo of an Allen wrench, winning the game.
“Rematch,” Sam declared.
They played another round of Battle of the Sexes—which got a lot more interesting after they started drinking—before moving on to Jenga, then Sorry. By then, they’d polished off two rounds of rum and Coke, and there was a whole lot of trash talk as they maneuvered their way around the board, bumping each other’s pawns. After she crushed Sam in Sorry, he held up Twister, an evil grin on his face.
“Oh, you’re asking for it now.” She jumped to her feet, swaying slightly.
“This is where I get my revenge,” he said as he spread the mat out on the floor.
She couldn’t stop giggling. “I haven’t played this game since I was a kid.” And she had an idea it might turn out very differently as adults.
It started out innocently enough. Left hand on a red circle. Right foot on blue. When she spun right foot on yellow, he purposefully reached his body over hers so that she’d have to crouch.
“Is that the best you can do?” she asked, stooped awkwardly beneath him. Then inspiration struck. She straightened her legs, bringing her ass solidly against the fly of his jeans.
“Now you’re fighting dirty,” he said.
“Am I?” She wiggled her hips against him, causing him to suck in a breath.
He reached over her to spin. Left hand on green. Soon they were completely entangled and laughing like crazy. When Carly hit the mat, Sam crowed his victory. She went into the kitchen for a glass of water while he put Twister away and pulled out a deck of cards.
They played until their eyes hurt from squinting at cards by firelight. Sometime past midnight, Sam put the games back on the shelf. Carly was tired and still a little tipsy. Her cheeks ached from laughing so much. She followed Sam into the kitchen to get her cell phone while he rummaged in the pantry for a midnight snack. She’d used his portable charger earlier so she could check the local news and weather reports.
“Temperatures are supposed to rise tomorrow,” she said, leaning against the countertop.
He nodded. “Might thaw enough to get you out of here.”
“It should,” she said, looking at the forecast on her phone. “Might be days yet before we get power back, though. Sounds like most of the town is without.”
Sam shook his head with a smile, leading the way back to the living room with a box of cookies in his hand. “This kind of shit doesn’t happen where I’m from.”
“Where are you from?”
“Grew up in Birmingham.”
Ah, so that explained the Southern twang in his voice. “Does your family still live there?”
“Bought my parents a place in California a few years back. Still have extended family in Alabama, but I don’t get out there too much.”
“It’s nice that you have your parents nearby.” She sat in front of the fire.
“Yeah.” They stared at each other for a few beats of heavy silence.
She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged herself. She’d be able to go home tomorrow. Sam was flying back to LA. He’d be recording a duet with Tina Torrey. She was gorgeous and sexy and sophisticated in all kind of ways Carly wasn’t. That was his real life. This was hers. “So when I leave here tomorrow, it’s good-bye,” she said.
He tilted his head. “What?”
“Nothing would have ever happened between us if I hadn’t gotten stranded here. I’d have dropped off your pastries, and we never would have seen each other again.” And she had no business feeling emotional about this, but try telling that to her heart.
“Not true.” He sat and tugged her into his lap. “I thought about you all damn day after I left your shop. Why do you think I asked you to deliver all that stuff yesterday?”
She looked away because the intensity in his blue eyes was stirring up all kinds of warm, mushy things inside her. “We live in different worlds.”
“We live on opposite sides of the country, yeah. But don’t spin some bullshit about ‘different worlds,’ Carly. If you owned a bakery in LA and I’d met you there, this…” He yanked her forward so that her hips met his, his erection pressing into her. “It still would have happened, and it would have lasted a hell of a lot longer than two days.”
She wanted to believe that, really wanted to believe it. But what difference did it make? Once the ice melted, he was flying back to California, and they’d never see each other again. “Tonight,” she whispered. “I’m yours tonight.”
“No, baby.” His voice rumbled through her, low and sexy. “Tonight, I’m all yours.”
He kissed her, hot and fierce, his mouth devouring hers with a new kind of urgency. The knowledge that this was their last night together had set them on fire.
“Crazy beautiful,” he murmured against her neck. “That’s what you are.”
Her heart somersaulted in her chest. He’d sung those lyrics to her earlier while he played the guitar. It was one of the new songs he’d written, and she absolutely loved it. Would she hear it on the radio someday? Would he be singing about her then, or would she just be a distant memory?