Tell Me Again Page 19

  “Would you all like a tour of camp?” she asked instead. “I know Grace wanted to take the girls up to the ropes course.”

  They called the girls over and headed toward the path that led through camp.

  “You’ve got them eating out of the palm of your vegetable-loving hand,” Trevor whispered, and dropped a quick kiss on the top of Sam’s head.

  She shoved at him. “Someone might see.”

  “Pushing me away whenever we aren’t alone is not working,” he said, eyes narrowed. “At all.”

  “As far as anyone realizes, there is nothing between us. You know that, and you know why.” She nodded toward Grace, who was on the path with her friends just in front of them.

  Trevor’s phone let out a series of beeps, and he pulled it out of his pocket, frowning at the screen.

  “Hey, Gracie,” he called, and Grace dropped back to walk with them. “There’s a problem on the job site and—”

  “There’s always a problem on that job site,” she whined.

  “Not always,” he said, “but I need to run over there. Can you ask one of your friends—”

  “I can take her home and stay with her,” Sam offered immediately. “As long as it’s okay if Frank comes, too.”

  “Our house is dog friendly,” Grace told her. “Right, Dad?”

  “Frank is welcome,” he said, “but are you sure? I know you have class and I don’t want to impose.”

  Sam smiled. “Grace is never an imposition. I’ll e-mail my professor and explain.” She turned to the girl. “Unless you’d rather be with one of your friends?”

  Grace gave her an almost shy smile in return. “I’ll stay with you. Can we go to the craft store to buy supplies for my science project?”

  “We can do that when I’m off work,” Trevor told her.

  “I don’t mind,” Sam said.

  “Thanks.” Trevor reached out a hand, but she shifted away from him. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Unless Ms. Stone needs you,” Grace added. She moved closer to Sam and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The lady who’s building the house wants Dad to be her boyfriend. That’s why she’s always calling and making up reasons he has to spend more time there.”

  Sam felt those words like a soft jab to her jaw. It shouldn’t bother her. Trevor was handsome and kind and—oh, lord, what he could do with his hands. He’d made no commitments to her in the short time they’d been together. Why did the knowledge of another woman in his life slice open a little bit of her?

  “That’s not true, Grace, and you know it.” His voice was tight. Although Sam could feel his gaze on her, she resisted the urge to look at him.

  Grace shrugged, ignoring the tension that filled the air like a heavy fog. “Don’t worry about it, Dad. I’m fine.” She turned to Sam. “Can we take out the canoes after the ropes course?”

  Sam cleared her throat, made her voice normal. “Yes, but only for a half hour or so. We’re going to lose the good daylight pretty soon. David and I set them near the dock today so they’d be ready for you.”

  Grace hurried back to her friends.

  “Take your time,” Sam told Trevor, still watching Grace. “I can get dinner with her if you—”

  “I’ll be back for dinner,” he said, and put an arm around her shoulder. “There’s nothing between Jolene and me, Sam. Her family’s company is developing the neighborhood so this first house is important to her.”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation,” she said, and shook out of his grasp.

  One of the mothers looked back and Sam forced a bright smile. “I’ve got to go,” she said to Trevor.

  “This isn’t over,” he said before releasing her.

  “You keep telling yourself that,” she told him, then walked away.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It was close to seven that night before Trevor was able to make it home. He’d texted both Sam and Grace, but only his daughter had responded to say everything was fine and not to hurry. At the rate things were going, he’d be totally irrelevant in his daughter’s life before her next birthday.

  He was in a crappy mood by the time he pulled into the garage of his three-bedroom house, which was tucked against the edge of the forest. Topping the list of reasons was the fact that Sam was ignoring him. Again.

  He hadn’t realized Jolene was on Grace’s radar until his daughter made that comment. Yes, Jolene had stopped by the house on occasion to discuss plans, and Grace had been with him at least once when he’d gone to the site for a meeting. But he’d made it clear to Jolene that their relationship needed to stay professional. Now he understood how it might look to his teenage daughter, especially when the project forced him to take time away from her.

  He’d done his best to make sure work didn’t interfere with his personal life. That had been easier before they’d moved to Colorado and he’d started his own company. He’d hoped Grace was old enough to understand the long hours and extra work that came from owning a business, but what his daughter noticed most were the moments he wasn’t there for her.

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, he took a few deep breaths before climbing out of the truck. He’d been working his ass off since he was nineteen years old, juggling a career he hadn’t planned on with fatherhood—a responsibility he continued to fear he would screw up beyond redemption.

  And tonight he had to face Sam. Based on the texting silent treatment, he figured he was in the doghouse for Grace’s remarks about Jolene. They hadn’t talked about what had happened in Houston, and he knew she had doubts about a future between them. But his feelings were hurtling forward at pace that made reining them in almost laughable.

  It would probably be better for both of them if they slowed things down. Grace was his world. Anything that jeopardized her happiness had to end, even if it hurt. Sometimes he wanted to crumble under the weight of the expectations he constantly tried to exceed. Sam hadn’t wanted anything from him. That night in Texas with her had made him feel a decade lighter. It made him want to give her so much more.

  But if things went south, Grace would be the one to suffer. Opening the door to the house’s mudroom, he braced himself for Sam’s anger. Maybe it was best for both of them.

  He was greeted by the sound of music blasting from the kitchen and the scent of something amazing filling the air. He dropped his keys and phone on the counter and moved toward the kitchen. Before he’d taken two steps, Frank bounded toward him for a quick crotch sniff. Prepared for the dog’s favorite mode of greeting, Trevor blocked him with a knee and Frank trotted back to the kitchen.

  Trevor followed and something shifted in his chest, like a puzzle piece finally finding the space it fit, as he took in the scene before him. It was exactly what he pictured in his mind when he thought of the word home, but until now—until Sam—it hadn’t seemed possible.

  Two pots simmered on the stove. A big bowl of fresh green salad sat in the center of the farmhouse table, which had been set for three with cloth napkins folded to the side of each plate. Where did she get cloth napkins?

  Sam and Grace were in the open area between the table and the center island, dancing and laughing. His daughter twirled, blond hair flying around her head. Sam tried to mimic the move but stumbled a few steps, landing against the granite counter just as Grace glanced up and saw him.

  “Come on, Dad,” she called, gesturing him over. “Let’s see your moves.”

  Sam threw back her head and laughed—unfettered, loud, and a little over-the-top. The change in attitude looked good on her, and he grinned in response.

  “Your dad has no dance moves,” she said to Grace, and continued to bounce around to the beat of the pop song.

  “I have plenty of moves,” he said, and joined them, swinging his hips and stomping his feet in an exaggerated imitation of John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever.

  Grace gave a gleeful shout then buried her face in her hands. “You’re awful, Dad,” she said between her fingers.


  “The worst,” Sam agreed.

  He ignored them both and let the music and the sweet sound of his daughter’s laughter help him forget all the hard stuff for a few moments. He and Grace had had dance parties when she was younger. The memory of spinning her in his arms made watching her happiness now even more precious.

  He held out a hand to Sam, and when she placed her fingers in his, he spun her under his arm. The ends of her hair tickled his chin as the scent of citrus washed over him.

  “Me next,” Grace shouted, and with a quick squeeze of his fingertips, Sam released him. He took his daughter’s hand. She was beautiful and looked so much like Sam, who watched them with a knowing smile on her face.

  Why had Samantha Carlton ever seemed like the enemy? She connected him to his daughter in a way he could have never imagined before she’d reentered his life. Forget the thought of slowing down anything. Right now it felt like Sam was the one thing he and Grace had in common.

  After another minute, the song ended and Sam picked up her phone from the counter and swiped a finger across the screen. “What’s your favorite song?” she asked Trevor.

  “Don’t have one,” he answered as Grace took a step away from him.

  “Come on,” she urged. “Everyone has a favorite song.”

  “I don’t listen to music.”

  Grace grabbed her cell phone and said absently, “Dad doesn’t have favorites or hobbies or anything. He works and takes care of me.”

  He stared at his daughter, her words slamming against him. She was busy texting, so he knew there was nothing malicious in her comment. But the truth hurt nonetheless. He ran his business and parented his daughter. There was nothing else to him. How pathetic was that?

  Sam gave him a gentle smile, placed her phone back on the counter, and stepped toward the stove. “The pasta’s almost ready,” she said. “I assume you don’t mind me making dinner?” She leveled a look at him. “Since all you have is boxed mac-n-cheese and frozen pizza.”

  “I’m real good at carryout,” he told her, then nudged his daughter. “Tell your aunt how much you love carryout.”

  “Oh, yum,” Grace said with totally flat inflection. “Kung pao chicken again. My favorite.”

  Sam smiled at Grace’s attitude. “When I lived in New York City, there was this restaurant in Chinatown that I went to every single week for the Moo Goo Gai Pan. I was such a regular the owner set up a tab for me.”

  “See,” Trevor said to Grace. “I’m not the only one who loves Chinese.”

  “What was my mom’s favorite food?” Grace asked suddenly.

  He saw Sam’s sharp inhale and knew the question shocked her as much as it did him. Until now, Grace had seemed hesitant to ask for details about Bryce, and Trevor would have liked to keep it that way.

  “She loved Mexican,” Sam said after a moment. “Enchiladas were her favorite, and she could have eaten chips and salsa at every meal.”

  Grace’s gaze darted to Trevor’s. “I love chips and salsa,” she said, her voice filled with wonder.

  “You sure do,” he agreed, and hoped to God that was the only thing she’d have in common with her biological mother.

  He waited for more questions but Grace only pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “I need to text Monica before dinner. She needs help with the study guide for the algebra quiz.”

  “Five minutes until dinner,” Sam told her. Grace nodded and turned for the stairs that led to the bedrooms.

  It was all so normal, Trevor thought, as if Sam were really a part of their little family. For years, he’d prided himself on managing most of life on his own. Once his nana died, it had been difficult to imagine letting anyone else in, but with Sam it felt natural.

  It was more than simply her relationship with Grace. She belonged . . . to him . . . with him.

  “Thank you for staying,” he said as he moved around the island.

  She arched a brow. “How’s Jolene?”

  “Needy and demanding.”

  “Do you like her?”

  He shrugged. “She’s trying to make her own name in a business run mainly by men. I respect how hard she works and how much she cares about her project.”

  “But do you like her?” Sam lifted the bubbling pot of water off the stove and dumped the noodles into a colander perched over the sink. Steam rose up around her, making the tiny hairs that framed her face curl as she set down the pot.

  “I like you,” he said softly and reached for her, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her closer. He kissed her slowly, savoring the taste of her lips and the way she sighed into his mouth. “I like you a lot. I like you here in my house and with Grace. I like the way I feel when I’m with you and the way you feel against me.” He trailed kisses over her jaw and nibbled on the sensitive shell of her ear.

  “You shouldn’t like me,” she whispered, then moaned as he sucked the lobe into his mouth. “I shouldn’t want you to like me.”

  “But you can’t stop yourself,” he said, and slid the fingers of his free hand under the hem of her shirt. “Me, neither.”

  She wrenched away, picked up the colander, and shook out the excess water. “No. We’re here together because of Grace.”

  “That’s not the only reason, and we both know it.”

  She shook her head. “It has to be.”

  “Why?” he demanded, even though he could already guess what she was going to say.

  “Because we agreed to go slow. If something goes wrong, it will hurt her.”

  He hated hearing those words, even though he’d told himself the same thing earlier. “What if I want more?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, then shifted away. He turned to see Grace at the door of the kitchen, her gaze watchful and curious.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Sam announced, pouring the noodles into the stockpot that held the red sauce. “It’s a simple pasta sauce and roasted vegetables.”

  He took a spoon from the drawer and dipped it into the sauce for a taste. “That’s amazing.”

  “Sam’s friend Chloe is married to Ben Haddox,” Grace announced. “He’s one of the most famous chefs ever. She said we could have dinner at his restaurant any time.”

  “You sure can,” Sam agreed. “Plus he’s preparing the meal for the reception, which will prove that my modest cooking skills are nothing compared to his.”

  “Are we invited to the wedding?” Grace asked.

  Color rose to Sam’s cheeks. “Kendall invited your dad, so I thought you both could come as my dates.”

  “Like it’s a real date?” Grace drew closer to Trevor’s side. “Between the two of you?”

  He kept his expression neutral. Grace usually bristled at the thought of him dating, and he wondered if her opinion of Sam would change if she realized his true feelings. “It’s—”

  “More like you’re my date and your dad is just there as a guest of the bride and groom.” Sam transferred the pasta to a serving bowl then moved toward the table. “They’re grateful for his work in repairing and updating the kitchen and other cabins.”

  Grace seemed to accept the explanation. As they sat down to dinner, the topic changed to wedding preparations. The food was heavenly, rich, and hearty. It was a revelation to see that Sam had a domestic side. He’d spent so many years with preconceived ideas about her based on the photos splashed across magazine covers. But she was more than he gave her credit for, and it shamed him that he hadn’t realized it sooner.

  Although he would have liked her to stay all night, she got ready to leave after the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, offering the excuse of studying for a test.

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said as she gathered her keys and purse from the counter.

  “No need. Frank has my back.” The dog slowly lifted his head and rolled to his feet as she jingled the keys.

  “Any time you want to look at the dresses,” she told Grace, pushing a lock of hair away from the girl’s fac
e, “let me know.”

  Trevor’s breath hitched at the look of pure adoration his daughter bestowed on Sam. “Are you shopping for the dance?” he asked.

  “Sort of,” Sam said with an almost embarrassed smile. “If it’s ok with you, I offered Grace the chance to look through my closet. I saved a lot of the designer clothes I wore during my modeling days.”

  “Do you often have the occasion to wear designer gowns?” he asked, lifting a brow. Other than in Houston, Trevor hadn’t seen her wear anything but jeans and athletic pants.

  Her smile widened. “It’s weird, right? But I couldn’t bring myself to part with them. Now I know I was subconsciously saving them for Grace. I can get her through a dozen junior high and high school dances.” She glanced at the girl. “I’m also happy to take you shopping. There’s no pressure to wear anything I have.”

  “It would be awesome to look at the dresses. I bet you have clothes from the biggest designers in the world.”

  “A few,” Sam admitted. “There’s one Dolce and Gabbana mermaid dress that would be stunning on you.” Her gaze shifted back to Trevor. “Only if your dad approves.”

  “Please, Daddy?”

  He almost smiled at her purposeful use of Daddy. She was manipulating him, but he didn’t care.

  Both Sam and Grace seemed excited by the prospect of a day spent trying on dresses, which was Trevor’s idea of pure hell. They’d made it through the years of pigtails and princesses without too much trouble, but the older Grace got, the more confused he felt by her fashion and beauty routines.

  The low point had been shopping for her first bra. After an hour of embarrassment outside the girls’ dressing room, he’d seriously considered marrying so he’d have a woman to navigate the uncharted waters of the teen years.

  Now he had help from the one woman he’d never expected. And, still, he wanted more.

  “Fine with me,” he muttered when he realized both Sam and Grace were waiting for his answer.

  They rewarded him with matching smiles.

  Sam hugged Grace good-bye then turned to him. She started to lean in before stepping away. He wanted to pull her close but forced his boots to remain rooted to the hardwood floor.