“I loveyou, babygirl.”
He nuzzled against my head as he carried me upstairs. If Sam continued spoiling me, I’d really never want to leave. Who was I kidding? The more I thought about it, the more possible it seemed. I didn’t want to get my own hopes up. I’d explained my responsibilities to Sam. It’s not like I could pack up my life and move next week. But as Sam held me against his body, whispering sweet things in my ear, I wished more than anything that I could.
Chapter Four
Sam
A full night’s sleep had done us both good. Mikayla’s mood had softened, though the accident wasn’t far removed from her mind. She’d been holed up in my house for two days, and with every hour, I could see more of the stress melting off her shoulders. Slowly but surely it was happening.
I poured the last cup of coffee from the pot, set it on the counter, and started a fresh one. I think I’d drank more coffee in the last forty-eight hours than I had in the past month. Across the room, she paced in front of the fireplace like she was wearing a trench into the hardwood. My phone in one hand, hers in the other. She cursed under her breath every few seconds — something about insurance being impossible without the police report and photos, all trapped in that storm-drowned mess of a car. They weren’t listening. She was doing everything she could, but they weren’t listening. I had offered to assist in the phone calls, but my girl was stubborn. Too stubborn to let me help. I gave her space, but didn’t move far in case she changed her mind.
Two sharp, impatient knocks hit the front door. I glanced at Mikayla.
“I thought you said the roads weren’t clear yet, Sam.”
“I didn’t think they were. Maybe it’s Nash or someone with news about your car. Be right back.”
But when I opened the door without looking through the window, I almost shut it again. Crystal stood on my porch, wrapped in snowflakes and smugness. Before I could ask what she wanted, she stepped inside without an invite.
“Can I help you?”
Her eyes flicked past me and lit up with glee. “Is thatlittleMickie Turner?” She shook snow out of her long blond hair and kicked off her boots. “What’s she doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” I crossed my arms. “You don’t look surprised.”
“Well, Bonnie…”
Bonnie would never give up anything about her best friend, not when she and Crystal had a longstanding history that wasn’t great. Even though Bonnie was friendly with Crystal, she wouldn’t share openly. “Bonnie, what?”
“I may have overheard her on the phone atBrighton Market.” Crystal shrugged.
“Mickie’s home for the wedding. The storm knocked her car off the road and into a tree.”
Crystal snorted. “And she ended up here. How convenient.”
“What’s your problem? I needed stitches and almost totaled my car. Do you have one ounce of sympathy in your stupid body or is your heart filled with silicone too?” Mickie crossed the room and stood in the hallway, bristling.
Crystal turned to her with a sugar-sweet smile. “Well, hello there! My goodness, you’ve grown.” Her tone dripped with a condescending lilt. “No, honey. I’ve never had plastic surgery. I do know a guy. Your nose…”
“I gotinjuredif you care,” Mikayla stated. “Maybe all the bleach saturating your hair went straight through to your brain.”
My ex-wife glared but as she opened her mouth, I held up a hand.
“Woah,” I said, cutting in before this turned into round two of whatever fight they’d had years ago. “Enough. Both of you.” I shot Mickie a look. She caught it. Barely. I turned back to Crystal. “What do you need? If it’s nothing urgent, I’m in the middle of something.”
“Babysitting? Idohope you’ve raised your rates,” Crystal laughed but nothing was funny.
Mickie sucked in a breath beside me, sharp and angry.
“Unless this is about something real, Criss, I’m busy.” I grabbed her coat and scarf from the bench and held them out to her.
“I’m getting there,” she said, ignoring my hint entirely. She batted her long eyelashes like a peacock preening. It was incredibly annoying. “Sorry, kid. I’ve got big important adult things to discuss with Sam.” Her sweet tone was faker than her eyelashes.
I shot her a look. My last warning look. The one I usually gave right before someone found themselves bent over a desk.
Crystal saw it and she grinned. “Oh no,” she whispered dramatically, “am I gonna get in trouble?”
“Kitchen. Now. Make it quick.”
