as hell about it, to be honest.”
Samantha looked down and realized she was once again wearing his football jersey. “Please tell me he did not put this on me.”
“Nope. I did that with a little help from Emily. You were pretty much deadweight by then. And Ethan was looking a little shell-shocked. What on earth did you say to him before you crashed?”
Samantha racked her brain, but nothing specific came to mind. Surely she hadn’t said anything about how desperately she’d been hoping he’d take her to bed. Sweet heaven, what if she had?
“Oh God,” she murmured, holding her head.
“What?” Gabi demanded. “Have you remembered something?”
“Not exactly. I just remember thinking it would be really nice if he carried me off to his bed, but I don’t think I actually said that.”
A grin spread across Gabi’s face. “But you’re not sure?”
“Afraid not. The man is going to think I’m a stalker, isn’t he? He’s going to forget all about the meddlers—Emily, Boone, Grandmother—and conclude that I’m behind everything they’re doing.”
“So what if he does? Liking the man and letting him know it is not so terrible.”
“You don’t think it’s just a little bit pathetic?”
Gabi gave her an impatient look. “Let’s think about this for a minute. You’re gorgeous. You have a successful career as an actress and model. You’re smart. I’m not seeing the downside of this for Ethan.”
“He doesn’t want me,” Samantha replied. “He’s made that abundantly clear. Chasing after him anyway just makes me look desperate.” She gave Gabi a plaintive look. “I don’t want him to see me as desperate. Can you think of any man on earth who wouldn’t be completely turned off by that?”
“And you don’t want Ethan to be turned off?” Gabi said, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“Of course not,” Samantha said before she considered the implication.
“So Grandmother and Emily have been right from the beginning,” she concluded. “This old crush of yours hasn’t faded away.”
Samantha frowned. “What’s your point?”
“That you, my dear, hungover sister, are in a heap of trouble. Those two will never let up now.”
“And you?” Samantha asked warily, hoping for one person who’d back her up.
“I’m on your side,” Gabi confirmed, then blew it by adding, “Which puts me on their side, too.”
“Traitor,” Samantha accused. “Couldn’t you at least be neutral, like Switzerland?”
“Were you neutral when they were pushing me and Wade together? No, you were not.”
“So this is payback,” Samantha concluded.
“It is, but only in the most loving, sisterly way.”
Samantha frowned at Gabi’s overly upbeat mood. “Bite me,” she muttered.
Gabi merely chuckled. “By the way, you might want to hop in the shower and pull yourself together. Rumor has it that Ethan is due here in about twenty minutes to give you a lift over to Castle’s. Believe me, I know how much pride you have. You definitely don’t want him to catch you looking like this.”
“Why is Ethan coming by when you’re right here?”
Gabi regarded her innocently. “Do you even have to ask?”
“You could tell him to go away.”
“I could, but I won’t be here. My assigned duties are done and I’m off to work.” She pressed a kiss to Samantha’s forehead. “Love you. We all do. Try to remember that,” she added as she left.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Samantha muttered in her wake, regretting that she couldn’t crawl beneath the covers and spend the day right where she was. Of course that would risk Ethan coming upstairs in search of her. She couldn’t allow him to find the disheveled mess she most likely was.
And that, she assured herself as she showered and washed her hair, was the only reason she wasn’t going to defy everyone’s latest attempts at meddling. Pride. Whatever impression she’d left in his head last night, she needed to imprint a totally different one today. Breezy, independent and not the least bit love-struck came to mind. Pulling off that performance was going to test her acting skills in ways no other role ever had.
* * *
Ethan still regretted answering his cell phone when it had rung at dawn. If he’d ignored it, he wouldn’t be at Cora Jane’s right now with two giant-size containers of steaming coffee, fresh blueberry muffins and a boatload of anxiety.
“Samantha’s worried she made a fool of herself last night,” Emily had told him. “You need to let her know she didn’t. Otherwise, things could be really awkward between now and the wedding.”
“I know what you’re doing,” Ethan countered.
“I’m just trying to make sure everything goes smoothly,” she’d insisted in her most innocent tone. “I can’t have the two key players in the wedding party not even able to look each other in the eye. Please, Ethan. I know I got things off to a bad start between you two with my meddling. Once you’ve settled things, I’ll stay out of it. I promise.”
“You are genetically incapable of staying out of it,” Ethan had responded.
“I’ll try. Really,” she insisted. “Please do this for me.”
Ethan knew he’d experienced a moment of temporary insanity when he’d agreed, but the truth was he wanted to see for himself if Samantha was okay after the way she’d practically crashed at his feet the night before. He wondered if she remembered what he’d said or, more importantly, what she’d said in response, that she was glad he liked her. That spontaneous exchange could be the spark that set off unwanted fireworks down the road, if they weren’t very, very careful. Delivering coffee and muffins was not being careful.
Remembering the last time he’d arrived without notice, he knocked on the kitchen door at Cora Jane’s. When no one answered, he knocked a little harder, but still got no response.
“Blast it,” he muttered, wondering if this was part of the plot. Was he supposed to panic, go running upstairs, find her asleep in her bed, then jump in with her? He wouldn’t put it past Emily to devise just such a scheme.
He opened the back door, then shouted, “Samantha! You awake?”
Only then did he hear the sound of the shower cutting off. It immediately sent his imagination into overdrive. All that slick bare skin, those long legs, the mane of thick hair clinging damply to her shoulders. He swallowed hard against the tide of pure lust that swept over him.
“Not doing this,” he muttered, dismissing the desire to take the stairs two at a time. “No way.”
