Page 140 of Craving Danger

Vanessa smiles at her daughter. “I second that.” She gestures at the dress Samantha’s wearing. “Is that one of the dresses you got last time you were here?”

Samantha grins wide. “Yes. Franco loves them, so we need to go shopping for more.”

Vanessa’s face lights up. “We can go tomorrow.”

Scott’s eyes settle on me again. “While the women are out shopping, we can throw a couple of steaks on the grill.”

“Sounds great,” I murmur.

Vanessa glances between her daughter and me, then says, “I was a bit surprised when Sammie told us she’s dating you. I never got the impression you liked each other.”

I let out a chuckle. “Oh, I liked her. She was just too stubborn to notice.”

“No, you were too grumpy and insufferable,” Samantha argues.

I look at my woman. “Only because you gave me the cold shoulder.”

“You deserved my cold shoulder,” she chuckles.

Not considering her parents, I place my palm against the side of her head and press a kiss to her forehead. “Luckily, that’s all behind us now.”

Samantha's eyes lock with mine, her love for me shining from them. “Yeah.”

Scott clears his throat, reminding us they’re in the living room, and it makes Samantha chuckle.

Vanessa’s watching us with a soft smile. “You look happy.”

“I am, Mom.”

She presses her cheek to my shoulder as the conversation continues, and slowly I relax.

Samantha

While Franco and Dad get to know each other better, I’m walking through the mall with Mom and Via.

Last night, Franco gave me his credit card, ordering me to spoil Mom rotten. When I asked how much I could spend, he said there’s no limit.

Just after I moved in with him, Franco and I agreed I would continue to work, but he’d take care of our expenses.

Right now, I have no interest to stop working. Besides, I like giving Franco crap at the office.

Not to mention the hot sex when he bends me over his desk.

“What do you think?” Mom suddenly asks.

“Huh?”

“Where’s your mind at?” she asks, holding up a cardigan for me to look at.

“Red’s not your color.” I dig between the other cardigans and find a light blue one. “This one will go with your eyes.”

Mom holds the red and blue one in front of her and turns to Via. “Which one do you like?”

Via instantly agrees with me as she says, “The blue one, ma’am.”

Mom drapes it over her forearm, and as we continue to look through the store, she says, “So he’s the one, sweetie?”

“Without a doubt,” I murmur, glancing at a couple of dresses.

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