Chapter 10
~ Braden ~
I put Sammie’s luggage into the closet of our shared room and shove mine under the lower bunk bed. The room is small with two dormer windows looking out toward the mountain range. A leather armchair sits in one corner next to a reading lamp, and a tall chest stands next to the door.
There’s no bathroom on this floor, so Sammie went downstairs to shower and freshen up. The mirrored closet faces the bunk bed, which means both of us can see each other when we’re lying in bed.
I lie down on the lower bunk and stare straight up at the slats of the upper bunk. I assume Sammie will sleep up there, but how am I going to get any rest knowing that delectable body is right above me—all night?
I should have said something to Jolene, but it’s too late. She told me she has a full house. Nash is already here, and since he’s not married to his girlfriend who has two children, they’re not staying in the same room. Meanwhile, she’s reserved the room with the crib for Ben and his wife and daughter, although they’re not showing up until after Christmas.
Maybe I can ask Jolene to let Sammie stay there before they arrive. She can always move out when and if they get here. But then, will that look bad on me as a dad?
There’s a knock on the door, and Sammie asks, “Braden, are you decent?”
I jump up and open the door. “You’re supposed to call me Dad.”
“Why? You think I have daddy issues?” She slides in wearing a towel around her head. “I don’t know if I can restrain myself.”
“Are you nervous about Jolene?” I pointedly ignore the innuendo that is inappropriate if I were truly her father. Taking her hands, I pull her onto the lower bunk as a good father would do to console his daughter. “Don’t worry. She told me you’re the spitting image of me, especially your eyes.”
She rolls said fake-blue eyes. “Jolene isn’t the problem. She doesn’t really know you. What about your grandfather and brothers?”
I nod, because she has a point. “The advantage is, they’re so surprised, they won’t suspect a thing. Besides, they think of me as a drifter, and they’ll be more likely to rib me about not knowing how many other children I sprinkled throughout the world.”
She gets a funny look on her face and blinks. “I’m worried about my Samantha Reed identity, not how many kids you fathered. Sheesh. Just having blue contacts don’t change my look that much. What if one of them recognizes me as the hacker who started Shopocalypse?”
“That’s such old news.” I scoff, realizing she has performance anxiety. “You’ll be fine. I left sixteen years ago, and no one has a clue what I’ve been up to.”
“How about Ben’s wife?”
“What about her? I’ve never met her.”
“Do you know who she is?” Sammie’s eyelid twitches, and she bites her lip.
“Some blond he met playing football. She’s a stay-at-home mom. I doubt she hangs out at a women’s prison or knows any ex-cons.” I chuckle at what a nervous Nelly my little girl is. “If you act like a sixteen-year-old, no one will put two and two together. You did doctor the social media, right?”
“Yes, and I do have your eyes.” She rubs my hands, radiating delicious tingles straight to my cock. “Maybe we’ll be gone before Ben and Brittney get here.”
“True. The roads are impassable, and the airport is closed.” I’m not sure why she’s so obsessed with them, but as a concerned parent, I shouldn’t belittle her. “Look, I know you’re afraid you might have run into them because they lived in San Francisco for a spell, but it’s a huge city, and what are the chances you’ve run into them?”
“They could have eaten at my mom’s restaurant. It’s kind of famous in Chinatown.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” I give her a pat on the thigh. “I don’t know Brittney, but Ben is big on American food. He’s a burger and beer boy. Doesn’t like to try anything exotic.”
She blows out a breath and seems reassured. “Okay. To be on the safe side, let’s say my mom’s restaurant is a hole in the wall somewhere in the Central Valley. I guess we’ll meet everyone who’s here for breakfast.”
“You’ll do fine.” I kiss her forehead and can’t help inhaling the fragrance of her freshly shampooed hair.
She puts her hands on my waist, and it’s like she has a pair of branding irons, because my pulse thrums and I heat up in a flash.
I’m sure she can feel it too, because her eyes grow luminous and wistful. Her face tilts upward and mine slants down.
What is she doing? There’s no way I can resist her, but then, maybe if I get it out of my system, I can survive the next few days.
Grandpa isn’t expecting us to stay long, right?
Today’s Christmas Eve and tomorrow’s Christmas Day. Surely, I can hold out a mere forty-eight hours.
