Page 129 of Dallas

Chapter Eleven

Sam’s fingers were stiff by the time she raised her hand to knock on the motel room door. Her heater had decided to crap out in her damned van, and she’d been driving all over Bend, checking every hotel in mad pursuit of Jace, with Poppy in the back, happy as a clam among the pies. And the cherpumple, which, epic broken heart or not, she had to deliver today.

But she hadn’t opened her bakery today.

She had priorities.

She’d been to eight motels already and it was only seven-thirty in the morning. Because somewhere between midnight and the gray light of dawn, she’d made a decision.

Fear was a dumbass state to live in.

She was hiding from possible heartbreak by giving herself certain heartbreak.

More than that, she was being a lousy friend. Because Jace had never lied to her. He had never let her down. And she was judging him based on other people’s track records, and not his own.

And dammit, she loved that man, and she wanted him. For always. For keeps.

She stuck her hands in her armpits and waited. No one came to the door, but the front desk man had been certain that Jace Colter was indeed staying here and in this room. And when she’d given a little eyebrow wiggle and said she wanted to surprise him, the man had immediately given over a room number.

Because men were very predictable that way. And of course, he was not going to block Jace out of a potential lay. It was bad security.

But the motel employee letting his penis do the thinking was currently her best friend, so she wasn’t complaining.

She extricated her hands from their place of warmth and knocked on the door again. “Jace!” she shouted for good measure. She knocked again; the cold, combined with the hard door, made her feel like she was in danger of splitting her knuckles open.

Fine. She’d knock ’til her hands were bloody. She didn’t care.

Finally the door opened, and there was Jace. Shirtless and scowling, a blanket wrapped partway around his shoulders. He winced against the light. Hungover. She recognized his hangover posture well.

“Mornin’, Superman,” she said. “Nice cape.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Sam?”

“I came to see you.”

“Why?”

She laced her fingers together, squeezed them tight, tried to ease some of the nerves, the adrenaline that was rushing through her body. “Because. Because I was stupid last night, and while I lay by the fire cryinglike an infant for half the night, leaving a snot trail on your rug, I realized something.”

“What’s that?” he asked, leaning against the door frame.

She drew in an unsteady breath, releasing her hold on her hands and shaking them out. “I can’t stop you from being everything to me because you already are. I thought the key was keeping sexy Jace and buddy Jace separate so I couldn’t fall in love with you, but here’s the thing. I loved you without the sex. I have loved you from the moment I met you. But I was afraid you could never love me. So it was safer to forget the attraction part. To lean on your strength, to be your buddy. And I counted on you, and your presence in my life, so much that I never, ever wanted to take a chance of losing it. But everyone in my life has walked away so easily, Jace, so I was afraid of upsetting anything. Afraid you would be like everyone else, not because there’s something wrong with you, but because of me.”

“Samantha,” he said. “That’s not...”

“It wasn’t fair. Because never once have you ever let me down. You’ve never lied to me. You’ve never disappointed me. How dare I question you? You didn’t deserve that.”

“That stuff is hard to shake,” he said. “I know. I’m the king of the bleach bucket, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I was wrong, Sam. To ask so much of you all at once. To walk away when you couldn’t give just what I wanted.”

“You didn’t ask anything of me. You gave. I’m the one that shoved it back at you and asked for different. And you were right—it was all because I was scared.”

“So what is it you want now?”

“Everything.” Her chest burning, a tear sliding down her cheek that she didn’t bother to wipe away. “Your friendship. Your heart. You, all of you. Your love, every kind oflove. That everyday friendship love that makes me excited to see you. That deep intense love that makes all the pieces of me ache a little bit. Makes me want to cry over its beauty. The kind of love that makes my body burn for yours. Every emotion.Die Hardand romantic comedies. Every. Damn. Thing.”

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