“Oh, thank you.” The relief in her mother’s voice made her sigh inwardly. Too late now to back out of her impulsive offer. “I’m not even sure where to start.”
Upstairs, in the big walk-in closet, Samara wasn’t sure where to start either. She stood there taking inventory, nibbling on her bottom lip. Mom reached for some shirts and pulled them down, and then, to Samara’s horror, with a small choked noise she sank to the floor, holding an arm full of shirts. Tears streamed down her face.
Good Godfrey, Samara wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her mother cry. She might not be the most independent woman in the world, but she’d always had a certain inner strength, and Samara stared at her open-mouthed, her own stomach doing flip flops. “Mom,” she whispered, dropping to her knees beside her mother. “It’s okay.”
“No it’s not,” her mother sobbed. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, but it’s not okay.”
Her heart squeezing so hard she could barely breathe, Samara wrapped her arms around her mom and hugged her. Past hurts and stupid mistakes fell away and all she knew at that moment was that this was her mother, and she loved her, and she couldn’t frickin’ stand to see her like this.
“I’m here, Mom,” she whispered, rocking her mom a little, both of them sitting there on the closet floor. “I’m here.” Her own tears dampened her mother’s hair where she pressed her face and they sat there for long moments, just holding each other. “It’ll be okay.”
After a while, Mom drew back. “I am so sorry,” she whispered, wiping her face with her hands. “I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”
“It’s okay, Mom. It’s understandable. You’ve been holding it together for days.”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t we do this some other time?” Samara suggested, rising and holding out a hand to her mom. Mom took it and stood too. “There’s no rush to do this.”
“I guess there isn’t.” Mom let out a soft exhalation. “I’m so tired.”
“Go lie down. Come on.” Samara led her mom to the bed and pulled back the duvet. While her mom slid into bed, she hurried to the en suite bathroom and filled a glass full of cold water. “Here.”
Her mom drank some of the water, set the glass on the bedside table and leaned back into the pillows, eyes closed. Her skin was so pale and thin, Samara could see the blue veins at her temples. She reached out and stroked her mom’s hair back. “Just rest, Mom.”
“Thank you, Sam. I’m glad you’re here.”
Samara sucked briefly on her quivering bottom lip before letting herself out of her mom’s bedroom and returning to her own with a heavy, aching heart.
Travis got home late, starving and hoping he could find something to eat. He went up to his room to change first, passing by Samara’s closed bedroom door. His gut tightened.
Yeah, he’d slept with her.
Christ. He rubbed his eyes and entered his room. He’d had a helluva time concentrating on work all day, thinking about being with her last night. Also thinking about what a fuckup it was that she’d thought all these years that he and Dayna had had an affair. Good god, that was preposterous.
He knew what she’d overheard that day. He remembered that conversation with painful clarity and how confused and conflicted he’d been about what he’d discovered. And the mess he’d made of it. But there was no way he could tell Samara the truth. Luckily, she seemed to believe him that he and Dayna had never been involved that way. He groaned out loud as he stripped off his dress shirt and dropped it onto the chair in the corner of the room.
She had to talk to her mother. That wasn’t going to be easy for her. Stubborn, proud Samara who never liked to be wrong. Holy crap, had she been wrong. He went from being so pissed off at her for being that stupid he wanted to turn her over his lap and spank her pretty little ass, to aching for the hurt she and her mother had both experienced.
He found a pair of baggy shorts and a T-shirt. His wardrobe was severely limited. He hadn’t actually anticipated staying this long in Portland. He was going to have get back to Los Angeles and take care of things there if he was going to make this move permanent. Dammit, he had a lot on his plate just then.
Including a hot and sexy woman who’d reappeared in his life. Or maybe she’d always been there.
He paused at her door and knocked.
“Come in.”
He opened the door and slid in, closing the door behind him. She sat on her bed with a laptop open on her legs. Her eyes widened and she snapped the computer closed, then smiled. “Hey. You’re home.”
“I am. Did you eat already?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to find something too. Want to come down and sit with me?”
Her face lit up with a subtle glow, and a small smile that pleased him. “Sure.” She set the laptop on the bed then slid her legs over the side and stood. She too wore shorts, short ones that showed her gorgeous legs, and a tiny T-shirt. She’d pulled her hair back loosely and had it fastened in some kind of knot on the back of her head, but auburn pieces fell out all around her face and the soft nape of her neck in a sexy mess.
In the kitchen, when he opened the fridge, he found a plate covered with plastic wrap and a sticky note on it that said, Travis – microwave for three minutes. He grinned. “Ava is a goddess.”
Samara sat on a stool at the counter while he heated his meal, then he joined her there to eat, and they talked, about work and his appointment with Wade. “Even though your dad had a will,” he said, “it’s going to be a long complicated process. Mostly because of the size of the estate.”
“Great.” She sighed. “That’s just depressing.”
“You want those shares, don’t you?” He was sort of teasing but regretted it when he saw the shadow that passed over her face.
“I’d rather have my dad back,” she said quietly, looking down at her fingers linked together on the granite counter.
He reached out and rubbed her back. He had to remember what she’d just been through, was still going through. Both of them actually, grieving for the man who’d been so important to both of them.
“Where’s your mom?” he asked.
“She’s upstairs. We started going through Dad’s clothes.” Sam’s voice thickened. “She had a little meltdown. I told her not to worry about it right now. That can be done later. I got her to lie down for a while. I think it’s starting to really hit her.”
She’d been helping her mother. Something hot and soft expanded in his chest. There’d been a lot of years of hurt and anger, but the fact that Samara had been there for her mother made his heart trip a little. He continued his slow strokes up and down her back, then he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll do whatever I can to help. You know that.”
“Yes.”
She turned her face toward him and found his mouth with hers, and they kissed, a long, soft, clinging kiss.
“When are you going to talk to her?” he asked.
She pulled back and gave him a look, her head tilted to one side, lips pursed.
“What?” he asked.
“You didn’t order me to talk to her,” she said slowly.
“Uh...”
“Usually you’re all bossing me around. Telling me what to do. But this time, you assumed I would talk to her and you just asked when that would be.”
He pressed his lips together briefly and nodded. “Yep.”
She threw herself into his arms and covered his face with kisses. “God that makes me hot for you,” she breathed. “Take me upstairs. Now.”
Whoa! He had definitely been using the wrong strategy. He caught her body in his hands and then wrapped his arms around her, crushing her up against him, their mouths fused in a long hot kiss. “Okay,” he gasped a long moment later. “I guess I’m done eating.”