Page 46 of The Love You Fight For
I raisemy eyebrow right back at her. “I wasn’t, but you mind your business.”
Lennon runs her eyes over my face and shrugs.
“Her car is at our place,” Lennon says, and I shrug back.
“Goodbye, Lennon.”
Lennon smiles sleepily and then walks out the door. I turn to Macon.
“You and Sam?” he asks, and I eye him warily.
He doesn’t sound angry or jealous, not that I think he would be, but he’s curious. There’s a hint of humor in his voice that I can’t read. I don’t bother answering.
“Would that be weird?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“Nah.” His voice trails a bit before he lifts a single shoulder in a shrug. “I think she could use someone like you in her life.”
I arch a brow.
“That mean I’ve got your blessing,Dad?” I say jokingly, and Macon barks out a laugh.
“Fuck, you better be more concerned about gettingherblessing over mine. Even if she likes you, it’s going to be hell getting her to admit it.”
I nod. I’ve figured as much. Knew it the moment she ghosted me. Sam Harper abhors feelings. Intimacy? Don’t even try it. Winning her over would be a challenge.
“I hope she does, though,” Macon says suddenly, glancing away from me before speaking again. “You know I was a shit to her in high school. You watched it happen. She needed someone, and I failed her. I fucking failed everyone, myself included. But I feel more guilty that I’ve taken Lennon from her.”
I shake my head. There’s a lot I could say to that, but I can only come up with one thing.
“I don’t think it’s that serious, man. Me and Sam...” I shake my head and glance around the bar. “It’s just not that serious.”
I’m surprised at the slight disappointment I hear in my voice, but I don’t acknowledge it. It is what it is. I might be fascinated by her, a little fucking thrilled at the idea of a challenge—at the idea of cracking her open and seeing what’s really inside—but I’m not an idiot.
Me and Samantha Harper? We couldn’t be on more opposite planes.
Polar fucking opposite.
Macon moves out of my peripheral, folding his arms across his chest with a shrug.
“Sure,” he says. “I’m just sayin’ that if it ever is, I don’t think it would be a bad thing.”
I don’t say anything. I just nod and pat him on the shoulder. I tell him congratulations again, then watch him walk out the door to meet the girls. The rest of the night in the kitchen, I find myself on high alert. Waiting. I don’t even know what for until I pull the chain on the open sign and head out into the parking lot. Sam’s car isn’t there. The lights in the penthouse are off. She didn’t stay in town, and the realization fills me with a disappointment I don’t want to acknowledge.
Nothing serious, I repeat to myself.
I tell myself this, but I still leave her lipstick on my neck. I don’t scrub at it, I don’t wash it away in the shower, and when it inevitably disappears, I pretend like it doesn’t bother me.
Because me and Sam? It’s nothing serious.
It’s nothing at all.
THIRTEEN
“Your dry cleaning.”
I lay the garment bags on Ashton’s kitchen counter and smile at him. I wonder if he can tell I want to use the hangers to gouge his eyes out. Weeks of being the perfect little assistant have my patience wearing thin. If I don’t get out of this city soon, I might actually commit a violent crime and Ashton will be my victim of choice.
“Thank you, Samantha,” he says smoothly, buttoning up the cuffs of his white shirt. “You’ve been such a help lately.”
