A moment, that’s all it had taken. One short moment when I was deleting the bulk of my New York contacts off my phone and the child had disappeared. Of course the problem was, the great room where we generally hung out to watch dog cartoons on repeat and spread his huge collection of toys far and wide didn’t have a door. Instead, it joined a hallway running the length of the house. The same hallway I now ran along looking for the short evil one. And we all know where he got the evil from. That’s right, his mother. Not my side of the family. No way.
“Gib?” I called, looking into rooms as I passed. “Gibby, where are you?”
For two and a half days we’d gotten along okay, my nephew and I. Mostly due to my bribing him with his favorite foods. Chocolate chip cookies (made by the housekeeper who came in during the day, Greta), chicken nuggets, and grapes. A not completely unhealthy diet. After all, the five food groups were all roughly represented. Today, however, no amount of bribery worked. Gib was in a foul mood for some reason and hell bent on taking it out on me. Reminded me of a few years back when I’d been working for a big time fashion model and she’d thrown a next-season Louboutin at my head. Lucky me, we’d been the same shoe size. So it served her right that I caught the shoe and took its mate as an unspoken apology for the incident.
But back to child wrangling.
From the not-so-far distance, the sound of voices, the strumming of a guitar, and the tapping of a drumbeat drifted this way. It was like a rock ’n roll siren call. Especially to a two-and-a-half-year-old who pretty much wanted to hang out with anyone but me. “Oh no.”
On account of the left hand side of the house where the studio and band practice area, games room, home theater, wine room, gym, sauna, and second kitchen (because didn’t everyone need a second kitchen?) were located having its own entrance, I’d happily missed out on the bulk of all of the Stage Dive comings and goings. Even Sam lived in the two-bedroom pool house out back with Adam the musical genius. Apart from my needling head doctor of a sister-in-law and idiot brother, I’d pretty much kept to myself. Because there was nothing wrong with alone, no matter what Lizzy said. Alone was perfectly fine and actually quite safe. Especially given the bulk of the people who tended to visit the house.
And there they all were.
Jimmy sat sprawled on one of the leather sofas, watching his brother David, sitting on a large amp opposite him, tune a guitar. Mal, the blond-haired maniac, sat behind a drum kit, keeping up a relatively quiet though steady beat. And Gib was in his father’s arms, safe and sound. Thank God.
I tightened my slightly sloppy ponytail and stood taller. Jeans and a tee wasn’t my usual slick day wear. But at least there were currently no food groups represented in my hair.
“But you’re supposed to hang out with Aunty Martha. We talked about this,” said Ben with a frown. “What if she gets lost? She hasn’t been here that long. She doesn’t know the house like you do.”
“Aunty Martha there.” Expression decidedly unconvinced by the argument, Gib pointed at me, standing in the doorway.
I lifted a hand in greeting. “He got away from me.”
Mal snorted, the jerk.
Ben just nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. He’s like Houdini when he gets an idea into his head that he wants to be somewhere else. Kind of impressed you kept him occupied for as long as you did, actually.”
Phew.
“Keeping track of children isn’t as easy as it looks,” said Jimmy with a small smile. Not a smirk, however, which was interesting. It might have almost been kind. Marriage and fatherhood must have mellowed him plenty.
“I’m finding that out,” I said.
David just jerked his chin at me. Not awkward at all.
With an electric guitar in his hands, the new kid, Adam, stood waiting nearby. He looked a little wide eyed at the company he was keeping. Fair enough. Any no-name baby rocker like him would give up valuable parts of their anatomy to be hanging out with Stage Dive.
“What did you think?” he asked Ben, gaze hopeful yet braced for the worst.
Mal cleared his throat. “So you’d label that maybe a standard sort of rock, pop, soul, with a dash of Americana-type sound, yeah?”
Adam just blinked. “Ah, well—”
“Don’t get me wrong. While there’s nothing particularly fresh or interesting about what you’re doing, you don’t completely suck. Not completely,” said Mal, all seriousness. “I hope you can find something to cling to in that, son.”
“Ignore him,” groaned David. “Unless you want to hit him with something. That’s fine too.”
“Hey!” Mal held up his drum sticks, making the symbol of the cross. “Stay back, fiends. I’m a ninja master with a set of sticks in my hands. I could take you all down without even raising a sweat.”
A hand rubbing tiredly over his face, Ben nodded in agreement. “Definitely ignore him. God knows we do. Your sound is fine, Adam. In fact, it’s damn good. That’s why you’re here.”
Brows drawn tight, Adam looked around the room. “Okay.”
Mal grinned. The man truly was the Puck or Loki of rock ’n roll. Pure mischief with a side order of annoying as all hell. “Actually, the truth is that you’re killing it. But we hate any sort of genuine competition and the only way we could think of crushing your talent was to have Ben produce your next album.”
Ben quietly grumbled something rude, given the small ears no doubt listening.
“So I’ve decided I’ll play on your album, Adam. But like under a pseudonym,” said Mal. “This is going to be great. I’ll use a cool fake name like Captain P. Niss. Get it?”
“You’re an idiot,” said Jimmy flatly.
Surprisingly enough, the drummer actually looked vaguely wounded. “Anne thought it was hilarious.”
“Your wife is an incredibly kind and gracious person.”
“Enough. You can play uncredited,” said Ben, ending the discussion.
“You can’t hide talent that easily. The true musos will still recognize my style. They’ll be like, ‘no way that’s anyone but Malcolm Ericson on the drums’. Tell them, Marty.”
“Ben, you guys are working. Let me take him.” Ignoring Mal, I wandered over to my brother, arms extended for the two-year-old terror. Gib of course scowled and turned away, hiding his face in his father’s thick shoulder. Like I was the worst. Sigh. To think, I’d actually imagined he and I were bonding sort of over the last few days. Sure, it was based on an illicit chocolate chip cookie enticement system, but you had to start somewhere.
The doors to the outside pool and garden area opened, Sam slipping inside. Immediately, I tensed up further. This was just not my day.
“Done a full sweep of the surrounding area, Sam the Man?” asked Mal. “We under attack from rabid teenage girls again or what?”
The red had faded from my right eye, but I kept my face angled downward just the same. What with the amount of concealer I’d been using, no one could possibly see the bruising. Still, the bodyguard tended to notice things others didn’t.
Sam’s expression never slipped from his business-as-usual demeanour, regardless of the drummer’s ribbing. God knows where he found the patience. Though he had been working with the band for years. Guess he was used to it by now. “A few fans and some paparazzi are hanging around the front gate. Ziggy’s keeping an eye on them. Otherwise, you’re as safe and sound as I can make you, Malcolm.”
“Does that happen often?” asked Adam. “The rabid teenage girls thing?”
Sam shook his head. “Nah. Their fan base has grown up with them. These days, they’re more likely to just want to have a chat and take a picture. It’s the odd one who’s unbalanced that we have to watch out for.”
“Like the chick that broke into Jimmy and Lena’s place last year. The woman used their shower then took a little nap in their bed,” said Mal. “Crazy town.”
Adam’s eyes opened even wider.
“My bed I could have understood, but Jimmy’s? That woman needs help.” Mal paused, remembering. “Then there was the dude following me around last year and sending me poetry. He actually wasn’t bad.”
“How’d the one about your eyes go again?” Jimmy smirked.
“Don’t get him started,” groaned David.
With a heavy sigh, Mal smiled. “Yeah, it was all fun and games ’til he tried to rip some hair out of my head. I mean, I can understand where he’s coming from, me being a sex god and all. But he scared the crap out of Anne. Pushed her out of the way to get to me. She could have been badly hurt.”
Jimmy took in Adam’s seriously alarmed expression. “That’s about when we brought Ziggy and Luke on board to help Sam out,” he said, in a soothing, nonchalant tone. “We always had a team on tour, but with wives and kids involved…better to be safe than sorry. They rotate between us, keeping an eye on things.” Jimmy scratched at the stubble lining his jaw. “Plus Lena and I got a place with better security. Our daughters needed more space anyway, a bigger yard to play in and stuff like that.”
“Oh, please, your old place was like a freaking mausoleum.”
“It was not. That house won an architectural award.”
“It was cold and ugly,” said Mal. “Lena made you move, admit it. Your wife runs the show and she’d had enough of all the butt ugly monochrome and marble. That’s the truth.”
After first checking Gib wasn’t watching, Jimmy flipped the idiot drummer the bird.
The small child, however, had already found something inappropriate to latch onto. “Butt! Butt-butt-butt!”
“Good work,” grumbled Ben.
Mal laughed, spurring the kid on. Figures. They were both about the same maturity level.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take him?” I asked, one brow arched high.
Ben shook his head, setting Gibby down once he started wriggling, wanting to explore. With more shouts of “butt,” he ran over to his Uncle Mal, who immediately set him up on his lap. A pair of kid-size earmuffs, no doubt hanging on the kit for this very reason, went on Gibby’s head, and soon Mal was helping him wield the drum sticks. The resulting noise was without rhyme or rhythm and astonishingly loud. Made me wish Mal had earmuffs for the rest of us too. But at least Gibby had been distracted from yelling out any colorful language.
“Having second thoughts about the fame thing?” I asked Adam, wandering closer.
The young man shrugged. “I just want to play my music. What happens happens, you know?”
Sam stood in the corner, doing his silent sentry thing. Every now and then his gaze would take in the view of the pool outside, checking for anyone who didn’t belong. With all of the guys gathered in the one place, security would be more intense than usual. Today he was wearing thick black boots, jeans, and a matching T-shirt. It suited him, the whole dark and dangerous thing he had going on.
I might have been somewhat distracted and lost track of the conversation when something caught my attention. “What did you say?”
Ben looked up. “I said Adrian’s talking about getting Adam a place in the Mackee Festival line-up.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Why?”
“The festival’s under new management and apparently they’re clueless as all fu…fudge. Odds are it’s going to be a disaster. What the hell is Adrian thinking?”
Jimmy cocked his head, watching me with interest for some reason.
“Just because I’ve been on the other side of the country doesn’t mean I haven’t kept up with industry news.”
“So what would you recommend?” asked Ben.
It seemed like every set of eyes in the room was turned my way. I crossed my arms, feeling just a tiny bit defensive perhaps. “Festivals are a good idea, I’ll give Adrian that. Help to establish Adam more widely and build on his audience. I’d definitely talk to Tyra about a place in the Newport and maybe the End of Summer and Rock ’n Waves. You’re only interested in stateside at the moment, right?”
Adam gulped. “Ah, I guess?”
“He’s so clueless, it’s cute,” laughed Mal. Amazing he could keep track of the conversation while helping Gib create chaos on the high hats.
And Jimmy was still watching me, which I so could have done without.
“What?” I scowled.
“Just a thought is all…” said Jimmy.
“What thought?”
From over by the windows, Sam watched me too, his bland business face morphing into something questioning for a moment. The weirdness in the room was seriously starting to get to me.
“Bet you’ve kept up with your contacts too, haven’t you?” asked Jimmy. “Or it wouldn’t take much to get up to date. You always were good at the schmoozing and getting people to do what you wanted. Had a hell of a talent for it, if I remember correctly.”
Now even my brother joined in, his brows lifting in surprise. “Huh. Probably would never have occurred to me, but you’re right, Jim. It’s not a bad idea at all. Smart, organized, has experience or at least a working knowledge of pretty much every part of the industry.”
“What the hell are you all talking about?” I barked.
“Hell!” yelled Gib, making me wince. Evidently I’d raised my voice enough to penetrate through the earmuffs. Though really on a scale of inappropriate words, it couldn’t be worse than butt.
“She always did keep a close eye on everything. I mean, she was good at her job,” said David, carrying on the discussion. Though his tone seemed distinctly reluctant when it came to doling out praise. “Sure this babysitting thing is really for you, Martha?”
“It’s not a long-term solution, but it’s all right for now. Why?”
Sam cleared his throat. “They’re thinking you’d make a great manager for Adam. I happen to agree.”
“A manager? Me?”
“Sure, why not?” Ben walked over to stand in front of me, his mouth a very straight and serious line. “You’re your own kind of scary, just like Adrian is. But you’re way better at smooth-talking people than he’ll ever be. Adam could do a hell of a lot worse.”
“I’m my own kind of scary?” I asked, one brow raised.
“You know you are,” said Jimmy from over on the couch. “You’re a hard ass from way back.”
“All of this flattery is going to go to my head,” I joked.
“Ass!” shouted Gib.
This time it was Ben who winced. “Liz’s going to kill me. Look, Martha, just think about it, okay?”
“Shouldn’t Adam get a say in this?”
The baby rocker looked around the room some more with his big innocent bewildered eyes. If nothing else, the boy would look great on the covers of magazines. Though his clothes and hair needed a bit of work. “I guess she seems nicer than Adrian?”
“Martha nice? You’re hilarious,” said Mal, setting Gibby down on the ground.
The child immediately ran over to the couch to climb up between David and Jimmy. Both held up their hands and some complicated game involving Gibby taking turns high fiving the two men began. It was kind of cute seeing them interact with him. How natural and relaxed they were these days with a small child in their midst.
“Anyway,” continued Mal. “You don’t want anyone too nice. It’s an industry that’ll chew you up and spit you out if you’re not careful. You want someone like Martha who’ll watch your back and cover your interests.”
“Were you actually just praising me?” I asked, shocked.
One side of the maniac’s mouth pulled upward. “Marty, darling…a move into management makes total sense. You might look pretty as a picture, but you’re a natural bully and a thug. Always have been, always will be.”
So many smirks and smiles filled the room. Even Sam covered a bark of laughter with the worst fake cough ever. Bastards. But I didn’t flip out or fly into a rage. Instead, I took a moment to think the imbecile drummer’s words over. “Actually, Malcolm, I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“I think you should.” Ben slipped an arm around my shoulders, even going so far with the sibling affection as to kiss me on the cheek. “Martha?”
“Hmm?”
“You have a black eye,” he said, the words strained.
Dammit. I’d been distracted, and let him get too close. A strange sort of silence filled the room and I immediately took a step away from him, covering the right side of my face with my hand. “It’s fine. God, Ben, way to make a big deal out of it and embarrass me. I just bumped my…”
“No. Do not lie.” He loomed over me, radiating anger. “How did that happen?”
My mouth shut tight, a stupid unnecessary panic filling my veins. For fuck’s sake, this was my brother. No matter how upset he got, he wouldn’t hurt me. But the need for fight or flight pressed at me.
“Ben, mate, take a step back. Give her some space.” Sam’s calm and steady voice came from my side. When he’d moved, I had no idea. But he’d obviously been fast. “You’re scaring her. Look at her face.”
“I am not afraid.” My voice sounded about an octave higher than normal. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Of course you’re not,” soothed Sam, his rough, familiar features oh so welcome. I don’t know why his smile chilled me out, but it did. My shoulders inched back down and breathing came easier. “You’re a fighter, aren’t you, Martha? Now, why don’t you tell us what happened to your face? And like your brother said, the truth please.”
I sighed, turning my face away. “I got mugged.”
Beside me, my brother seemed to swell with fury. “And you didn’t think you should tell—”
“Ben,” said Sam with unerring patience.
“Inside voices,” shouted Gib, not the least bit ironically, before sticking his thumb in his mouth.
“That’s right, Gibby.” Sam nodded and smiled. “We’re staying nice and calm and using our quiet inside voices while Aunty Martha tells her story, aren’t we?”
The child nodded emphatically then crawled onto Jimmy’s lap, obviously in search of comfort. All of the tension in the room must have had him worried. Without a word, the singer gathered him close, cuddling the small child and rubbing his back.
“Sorry.” Ben slumped back against the wall, his face lined with concern. “I’ll try and relax.”
Sam turned back to me, waiting.
“Fu…fudge. Honestly, it’s humiliating, stupid, and not worth all of this drama.” First, I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets, but when that didn’t feel quite right, I tucked them behind my back. “Can’t we just forget about it? We’re upsetting the child.”
Nobody said anything, everyone still waiting for me to speak. I was not going to get out of this no matter how hard I tried. Dammit. Movements slow and steady, Sam withdrew my arms from behind my back, holding my hands in his larger, warmer ones. He didn’t pressure me further. Just held my hands, waiting for me to speak.
“I was walking home late from work last week and the guy ran up to me and grabbed at my bag. He just—he ripped it off my shoulder,” I said, doing the best to keep my own voice calm and even. But the frown was definitely back on my face. “But I hung on.”
Sam blinked. “You hung on to it?”
“It was Gucci. No way was I just going to let him take it.”
Something in the bodyguard’s jaw shifted, though nothing was said.
“Anyway, he punched me. Then another couple of guys stepped in to help and I still had a good grip on my bag. Guess he decided it was more trouble than it was worth and took off,” I said, blowing out a breath of air. “And they say everyone in New York is rude and unhelpful. Just goes to show.”
“Okay.” Sam licked his lips in a very distracting manner. Guess I was just in an easily distracted mood. Anything had to be better than thinking about it again. “That’s everything?”
I nodded.
“Certainly explains why you’ve been so jumpy.”
“I guess it was a bit of a shock. I’ve never been hit before.” My fingers tightened around his and he pulled me closer, gently holding me. Against my ear, his heart beat loud. Odd. I’d never particularly been a cuddler before either. But I suppose everyone had their moments of…not weakness exactly. Something else.
“And you never will be again if I can help it,” he said, the words rumbling forth from deep within his solid chest.
“Seriously?” asked Mal. “Is no one going to say the obvious thing here?”
Over on the couch, Dave lifted one shoulder. “It’s a bit strange that Martha and Sam are hugging it out, but I guess it’s been an emotional day.”
“Not that. Man, and you call me the band idiot.”
I eased out of Sam’s far too nice arms, squaring my shoulders. “Now that’s finished, we can all get on with our lives.”
Mal clicked his tongue. “Not yet. Also, Davie, what you just said by the way says a lot about you and your need to get over the stuff that went down between you and Marty way back when. Because, dude, we’re all way over it. You forgave Jimmy, you can forgive her too.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t call me that,” I mumbled.
“Wish away,” said Mal, his expression serious for once. “Now, Marty, sweetie. Listen to me carefully here for a minute. I promise I’ll buy you every damn Gucci handbag in the country if the next time someone tries to mug you, you’ll just let the bag go. Okay? You hearing me?”
“Thank you,” said Ben, still quietly stressing and doing his best to repress his anger over by the wall. I don’t think I’d ever actually seen my brother so worked up. At least, not over me. Or not for a very long time. “A handbag is not worth more than your life,” he said. “What if the guy had a knife or a gun?”
“Well,” I said, searching my mind for a suitably clever response. “He didn’t.”
“He could have. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Ben—”
“Your brother’s right,” interrupted Sam.
I scowled some more. “I thought you were on my side.”
First, the big man tipped his chin, then his hands slowly curled into fists. “Martha, since you don’t seem to have noticed, let me point out something important to you. Even when you’ve done something so breathtakingly stupid that I couldn’t figure out what the fuck you could possibly have been thinking, I have still always been on your side.”
My mouth, it gaped.
Meanwhile, the silence in the room was deafening. Only for all of about a second, however, until Gibby pulled his thumb out of his mouth and yelled, “Fuck!”
Sam sighed. “Sorry about that, Ben. I’m going to go check on things down at the gate. Excuse me.”
Ben just nodded.
More silence. I could feel various people’s eyes boring into me. Thankfully, Adam the baby rocker quietly started strumming his guitar. A moment later, Mal joined in with a whisper soft drum beat. “That was weird.”
David grunted.
“Of course,” said Mal. “It’s always weird when unresolved sexual tension boils over like that. Still, gives me something to report back to Anne tonight. We’ll have a good gossip about y’all then give making a baby another turn or two. Maybe even three if my wife is lucky. And that girl was born lucky.”
Jimmy’s lips flattened. “I think it’s great that you’re planning on starting a family. But I can honestly live without the daily updates regarding your sex life, man.”
“But you don’t have to, Jimbo. That’s the beauty of it, I’m more than happy to share.” Mal was clearly quite capable of needling Jimmy even while he accompanied Adam’s quiet guitar playing.
Ben slid an arm around my shoulders, his eyes still full of worry. “You okay? Did you see a doctor or someone when it happened?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said, a little distracted. “It really is just a black eye. I put some ice on it and then loaded on the concealer. It was fine.”
“If you say so. Sorry for raising my voice.”
I shrugged. “Guess I should have told you about it.”
“You need to learn to be more of a sharer like me, Marty,” volunteered Mal. “For instance, you could tell us your plans regarding Sam. To jump his bones or not to jump him, that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler to take the bodyguard to pound town rather than to leave him pining for your hot self indefinitely.”
“I had no idea you read Shakespeare.”
“I’m cultured. I know shi…stuff,” said Mal. “Though we had all agreed after the whole you and Davie hitting the wall thing a decade ago that no one in the family should ever bump uglies again. So you’ll be breaking all the rules, you little rebel.”
No way was I responding. In fact, every muscle in my body wanted to grab Gibby and get the hell out of the room and away from this excruciating third degree into my history and, apparently, Sam’s. But for the life of me I couldn’t figure out any way of executing that plan without it looking for all the world like I was running away. Which was exactly what I wanted to do, of course.
I stood my ground and glared at everybody.
After a fair bit of head scratching, David turned his trademarked furrowed brow my way. So much brooding. “How long has that been going on exactly, you and Sam?”
“There’s no need to sound like the thought of someone actually being interested in me is so completely unbelievable, David.” My hackles were well and truly raised. Men. Such idiots. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Sorry,” he grumbled. “Just a surprise. Isn’t he like ten years older than you?”
“He’s forty-two. Hardly over the hill.”
“Yeah, but…he’s a really good guy.”
“Whereas I’m actual worst of the female race that humanity has to offer?”
“I didn’t say that,” he said, getting all testy. “Don’t put words into my mouth. We just all have a lot of respect for the man. No one wants to see him get hurt.”
“You have become a bit of a love ’em and leave ’em, Marty.” Mal tutted. “Such a heartbreaker. Don’t break Sam’s heart, that’s all we’re saying. No one wants a moping bodyguard. That’d just be plain sad. And possibly dangerous.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Can we talk about something else now?”
“Sam and Martha…huh,” said Jimmy, all oblivious like.
Beside me, Ben made a noise of agreement. “Liz told me he was hung up on her a while back.”
Apparently not a single one of them understood what something being none of their business meant. I ground my teeth together, trying not to scowl because my face had started to ache. Stupid black eye.
Without missing a beat, Mal flipped back his long blond hair. “You’re all incredibly freaking clueless. Sam’s around us like twenty-four seven and you don’t even notice when shit’s going down with him. Because I’m telling you, every time he looks at Marty since about forever, shit is definitely going down with that dude.”
“Really?” I asked, despite myself.
“Oh yeah. He gets all tense like his panties are in a wad or something. It’s actually quite entertaining.”
Fingers moving expertly across the fretboard, Adam changed the music into more of a driving rhythm. “He does watch you a lot.”
“See?” asked Mal. “Even young Aaron here has noticed.”
“My name’s Adam.”
“If you say so. Maybe. Though I think you’ll find Aaron’s an improvement. I’m good at fixing people’s names. Just ask Marty.”
If looks could kill, Mal would have died under my glare. Probably about fifteen years ago, come to think of it.
On Jimmy’s lap, Gibby’s eyes were closed, lulled to sleep by the familiar voices and soft strains of music, no doubt. Guess we should have realized Gib had fallen asleep when he failed to repeat Mal’s profanity slip. And I’d been trying to talk him into having a nap for hours. Jimmy could out-nanny me without even trying. I actually was the worst.
“I’ll carry him up to bed,” said Ben, lifting him carefully out of the singer’s arms.
Eager to finally escape, I followed, glad to be away from the confusing and complicated array of topics of conversation. Away from the band room, the house was quiet, peaceful. A balm for my frazzled nerves. “Do you really think I could be a manager?”
“I think you could do anything you set your mind to,” Ben answered in a similarly low volume. Sweet of him, really. I had no idea his confidence in me ran so high. His big-ass boots padded quietly along the beige carpet. “We’re not going to talk about Sam, are we?”
“No.”
“Okay, good. Cause he’s my employee and you’re my sister. Not that I don’t care about you both, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay the hell out of it.”
“I’d rather you all stayed the hell out of it since it’s personal and none of your business.” The words came out sharper than I had intended. But the day had not been going according to plan. Maybe if I went back to hiding out in my bedroom at night and keeping Gib away from the practice room during the day, that would work. Me diving behind a couch every time Sam walked in wouldn’t be the least bit suspicious. Much. Perhaps facing difficult things didn’t fall under my list of specialties. At least, not when it came to one man in particular.
He laughed softly. “C’mon, you know what everyone’s like. The chances of them all minding their own business...”
“Great,” I said glumly, trudging up the staircase. “Do you think he meant it when he said he was always on my side?”
Ben looked back at me, gaze soft, understanding almost. “Sis, you ever known Sam to say something he didn’t mean?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”