“We didn’t,” Samantha admitted. Today, Christian was dressed in designer jeans, a cotton pullover, and black leather ankle boots that flashed the Gucci logo on the sole when he crossed one ankle over his knee.
“No?” One dark eyebrow crawled up his forehead.
“No.” She shook her head. “But not because I put on the brakes. Hell no. I was all about the gas. He”—she tilted her head toward the group gathered around the bike lift—“was the one to stop things.”
“Now, that is interesting.” After a beat, Christian added, “And it explains some things.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that he was a grumpy Gus when he crawled out of bed this morning. I thought it was because he didn’t get the prize out of the cereal box again, but it’s because he was forced to salute his own general last night.”
Salute his own general? Where does he come up with these things?
“I’m serious.” She scowled at him.
The look Christian gave her was the picture of innocence. “Again, as am I.” He took a giant bite of doughnut. “Given this recent revelation,” he said around a mouthful, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you no, he hasn’t had girlfriends. At least not as long as I’ve known him.”
Samantha’s shoulders couldn’t have sagged any lower if someone had plopped fifty-pound newspaper bundles on them. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Ozzie didn’t do relationships. Ever.
Christian eyed her. “I take it you don’t fancy that answer?”
“It is what it is, I guess.” She sighed, feeling hard stones of disappointment and hurt tumble through her chest. “You can’t ask a tiger to change his stripes, can you?”
“No, you most certainly cannot. Here.” He held out what remained of his snack. “Have the rest of my doughnut. It’s not quite as good as the Welsh cakes my uncle used to make. But it’s close.”
“I don’t want it if it’s a pity doughnut,” she told him with a sniff.
“Why? It tastes the same.”
When she narrowed her eyes, he grinned broadly.
Of course, when Peanut—moving with a speed Samantha would not have thought possible given his girth—jumped from the back of the sofa and snagged the doughnut in midair, it was her turn to grin.
“Thief!” Christian bellowed, glowering at Peanut’s quickly retreating back end as the cat dashed around the corner in a blur of gray fur. “Becky, your sodding cat filched my food again!”
Becky glanced over her shoulder with a look of complete disinterest. “That’s what you get for putting your food anywhere near him.”
“Or,” Christian said, his words heavy with irritation, “you could train that beastly feline terror to keep his grubby paws to himself.”
The expression on Becky’s face questioned Christian’s intelligence. “You don’t know much about cats, do you? Besides, you shouldn’t be eating anyway. Michelle took the afternoon off work. She’s making us a wonderful dinner, which you won’t get to enjoy since you’ve ruined your appetite.”
Christian sat up straighter. “Michelle cooked?”
“You cooked?” Ozzie turned to the statuesque brunette. “What did you cook? Please tell me it’s lasagna. I would murder for some of your lasagna.”
“Down, boy.” Michelle patted Ozzie’s shoulder. “No need to turn to homicide. It’s lasagna.”
Ozzie whooped and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you,” he said, making Samantha’s brown eyes threaten to turn green again. “Why’d you have to go and marry Snake? I’m a much better catch. And much better at all the bedroom stuff that—”
Michelle elbowed him in the ribs, making him wince and stumble back. Samantha should not have been relieved. The fact that she was made her want to kick her own ass.
Okay, Sammie. You’ve totally lost it. You’re out there. Like, the lines have been clipped, and you’ve drifted into orbit around Planet Imajealousbitch.
Michelle glanced at her watch. “I need to pick up the kids from the babysitter.” She turned and looked through the big, leaded-glass windows at a sky that was bluebird blue, not a cloud in sight. “It’s a nice evening. While I’m gone, why don’t you all set the picnic table? I’ll be back before…” She trailed off, a blush blooming over her cheeks.
Did she just shoot me a furtive look? Samantha wondered.
