Sam was up to something. He was acting peculiar, and not in that awkward post-first-kiss way. Wynter stretched out on the couch, Charlotte snoozing on her shoulder. Sam was cooking dinner and it smelled delicious. Sweet, with a touch of cinnamon. It smelled more like breakfast to her.
Wynter’s favorite meal of the day was breakfast. French toast with extra maple syrup, a tall glass of orange juice, heavy on the pulp, and berries, any kind of berries at all. Her stomach started to rumble. Berries wouldn’t be in season for quite a while. More’s the pity.
She stroked her daughter’s silken head, watching that tiny mouth purse up like she was suckling in her sleep. So precious. So innocent. All the anxiety Wynter had felt about becoming a single mother vanished the moment she held her baby in her arms. She could do this. She was born for this. Yes, they would still make arrangements to move back to Scallop Shores. But she was perfectly content to stay with Sam. As long as she could.
“Want to eat in front of the TV? Income Property is coming on.” Sam had popped his head around the doorframe, his smile innocent. A little too innocent?
“Why not.”
Her favorite breakfast . . . for dinner. Her favorite show on her favorite cable channel. Wynter eased off the couch, setting the baby in the secondhand bassinet they had found. Touching that soft, warm cheek with her knuckle, she slipped quietly from the living room to the kitchen.
Sam had tucked a dishtowel into the waistband of his jeans. He stood at the stove, flipping French toast on a griddle. A slow, lazy smile stretched across her cheekbones, crinkling the skin around her eyes. Maybe she ought to watch the Food Network. Something about a man cooking her dinner . . . She licked her lips.
“So what’s the occasion? You have to be just as wiped out as I am.” Wynter stepped into the kitchen and took a deep sniff, groaning. “I would have been happy with a bowl of cereal.”
“What occasion? No occasion. Can’t a guy cook dinner without getting grief about it?”
His movements became jerky, agitated. He dropped a piece of battered toast on its way to the griddle. It bounced off the counter and landed on the floor. Sam bit out a four letter word. What was going on here?
“Sam? I wasn’t giving you grief. You okay, bud?” The guy wouldn’t look her in the eye. Something was definitely up.
“Just go back and sit on the couch. Dinner’s almost ready.” He stooped to pick up the French toast.
Holding it out in front of him, he added, “I’m not serving this one.” As an attempt at humor, it fell flat. His smile looked strained.
Wynter shrugged her shoulders, gave him one last worried once-over and scuffed out of the room in her fuzzy, pink slippers.
Maybe he was regretting their kiss, after all. She pondered that one. Sure, she’d been the one to make the first move, but if he hadn’t been looking at her the way he had . . . She tucked her legs under her as she flopped back down on the couch. Biting her lip, she stared, unseeing, across the room. Now he wouldn’t even look at her. What a difference a day made.
“Hope you’re hungry. I made enough for an army,” Sam trumpeted as he carried a tray loaded down with all her favorites.
“Shh. You’ll wake the baby,” she admonished.
“Nonsense.” He set the tray down and spared a quick look at the infant sleeping a few feet away. “If we start out giving her absolute quiet sleeping conditions, that’s what she’ll come to expect—to need. Right now they can sleep through anything, and it’s best to take advantage of that.”
“Honestly—you know way more about parenting newborns than I do.” She sighed.
“It’s like I explained before. Paulie had her first son while I was home for winter break, my first year of college. You could say I got immersed in a crash course on Newborns 101. Found out I was pretty good at it, actually.” He grinned.
She’d forgotten Sam’s sister had been pregnant when their parents died. It would have been a few months after Sam had disappeared from her life. Pauline and her husband had lived a few towns over from Scallop Shores. He’d been so close to home.
It was the logical choice, really. If Wynter hadn’t been so emotionally shell-shocked, she would have known that. And still she would have stayed away, respected his need for distance.
“I’m glad you didn’t push everyone away. At least not right away.” She spoke gently.
He ignored the comment, setting out the plates and glasses quickly and efficiently. Still he wouldn’t look at her. She took a sip of the juice once it was set in front of her. Fresh squeezed. What had she done to deserve this?
“Sam, you made OJ from scratch? Is it my birthday?” She giggled.
“You haven’t turned the TV on. You’re missing your show.” Deftly, he wielded the remote, flipping the television on and turning the channel to a home improvement show featuring a hunky guy that didn’t look too much different than Sam. Wynter grinned as she realized the similarity. She knew there was a reason this show was her favorite.
Sam carried his plate to the wingback chair. That was odd. They always sat together. Quizzically, she watched him as he propped his bare feet up on the coffee table and focused his attention on balancing his plate while cutting up his French toast.
“So, I’ve gotta tell ya. On one hand, I feel like I’m being spoiled. And on the other, I kind of get the feeling I’m being set up for something bigger.” She popped a thawed blueberry in her mouth. “Got anything you want to tell me, Sam?”
“Want to? Nope.” And to illustrate the point, he stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth, chewing slowly.
“Need to?” She licked syrup off the tip of her finger as she studied her friend.
She was starving, but this whole air of mystery was distracting her. She had to find out what was going on.
“You’re missing the show, Wyn. I don’t think we’ve seen this one before.”
“I don’t give a da—”
“Uh uh uh. Tiny, impressionable ears . . . ” He waggled a finger then gestured toward the bassinet.
Oh, good grief.
“Samuel Dennis, you tell me what is going on. I’m not stupid. Why are you bribing me with French toast?” She watched him squirm in his chair. “What did you do?”
She set the plate down on the coffee table, her appetite having altogether disappeared. Her stomach had begun to twist itself into knots. Her skin felt prickly, right up to her scalp. She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to keep her panic in check. Her gaze flew to the baby, sleeping so peacefully. Suddenly, nothing seemed more important than Charlotte’s welfare.
“You were napping. You needed your rest. I was heading past your door and I heard your cell ring. I didn’t want it to wake you.” He stuffed another bite of food into his mouth and she was forced to wait until he swallowed.
“It was your mom. She was concerned about you. She said you hadn’t spoken to her since the day after you got here.”
Wynter closed her eyes; her racing heart felt like it was ten times too big to fit inside her chest.
“I thought she ought to know. Her granddaughter had arrived. I sent her a photo from your phone.”
“Sam, you had no right.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “She doesn’t know where you live, though. She can’t find us. She can’t come get us.” She looked up wildly. “Can she?”
“She will never take you back to Florida with them. I promise you that.”
“That’s not what I asked, Sam.” Wynter ground her teeth and tried again. “Can she find us?”
“I invited them to visit.” This time she noted he had tears in his eyes. But she’d be damned if it made her any more inclined to forgive him.
“Well, Charlotte, it looks like my dreams of a perfect life for you are over.” She spoke to the baby but her eyes glared daggers at Sam.
“Now just stop it right there!” He set his own plate down and stood up, hovering over her angrily.
“I told you I would protect you. I told you they would not take you away from here. Not unless you want to go.”
“Why Sam? Why did you do it?”
“Because they have a right to meet her, Wyn. She’s their flesh and blood. She’s their legacy. They might not have been the best parents in the world. But that doesn’t mean they forfeit the right to try to be the best damned grandparents they can possibly be.” He was breathing hard.
“This was my choice to make. I wasn’t ready for this.” Her entire body trembled from fear, from emotion. This was a scenario she hadn’t wanted to visit—possibly ever.
“My parents never got to meet Paulie’s kids. My mom never got to hold the baby she’d been knitting a whole freaking wardrobe for.” He turned away, his shoulders quaking.
She’d been so selfishly absorbed in her own reasons for not wanting her parents to know about Charlotte that Wynter hadn’t given any thought to Sam’s motives for taking that call. Oh, Sam.
She went to him, pressing herself into his back, resting her cheek against his ratty sweatshirt and wrapping her arms around his chest. His body was rigid. It was taking every ounce of willpower he had not to cry. She knew it.
“We’ll figure this out, Sam. We’ll let them see her. We’ll protect her. Together.”
He reached up and grasped one of her hands that rested just over his ribs.
“I’m sorry. I had to do it.”
“I know, Sam. I know.” Terror unlike anything she had ever known filled Wynter. This was not going to be a pleasant visit. She had to be strong. Attila the Hun and Genghis Khan were coming to town.
• • •
Sam clamped his mouth shut when Wynter pointed out a smudge he’d missed on one of the windows in his office. His office, for crying out loud! Her parents weren’t even going to see the inside of this particular room. Why? He swallowed the words he would have liked to utter, their taste bitter on his tongue.
Sam sidestepped just in time to avoid having his toes crushed by an overzealous Wynter wielding the vacuum. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. Was it worth this effort? Would stepping into a spotless home make the couple see their daughter’s situation in a different light? Unlikely. But it was something she had to do. And he understood this.
“I’ll finish up in here. Why don’t you see what we need for groceries? I’ll make a quick run before I pick up your folks at the airport,” he said, the second she flipped off the vacuum.
“They’re renting a car. I got a text this morning. They want to be able to come and go on their own.”
“Okay.” He drew the word out.
“They’re expecting to bring back a car seat, stroller, and a bunch of other baby supplies.” Wynter snorted. “Too bad they are spending a fortune on a huge rental for nothing.” She yanked the plug from the wall and coiled it around her arm before dragging the vacuum from the room, her spine rigid.
She was still angry with him. And she was tense. Okay, she was beyond tense. He’d love to give her parents the benefit of the doubt, assume they had changed over the years. But watching Wynter prepare for their arrival was really putting a damper on any hope he might have had.
Wynter’s brother, Grant, had been a college senior when he and his girlfriend found out they were expecting. He had been planning to go to law school, continue his education. But real life has a way of stepping in and rearranging carefully laid plans. Grant and his girlfriend were thrilled about the baby. But his parents? Not so much.
They’d swooped in, as they were wont to do, issuing orders and telling the parents-to-be exactly what they expected of them. The pregnancy was to be terminated. Grant was to stop seeing his girlfriend, as she was obviously a loose floozy with no morals. She would never be the upstanding woman he needed to support his career and be a model wife. He would continue his schooling and keep up his grades, graduating at the top of his class and earning a spot in one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. They had big plans for their eldest child.
When Grant refused to give in to his parents’ demands, they turned to his girlfriend. They offered her money to pay for the abortion and to help set her up, preferably in a different state. Needless to say, she wasn’t cooperative. And that’s when the Allens resorted to threats.
Apparently, they claimed to have dug up dirt on Grant’s poor girlfriend. They threatened to call her out as an unfit mother and take custody of their grandchild. No one really knew if any of their accusations were true, or if they would have been able to gain custody of the child. But Grant and his pregnant girlfriend ran off together.
Sam’s frown carved deep creases around his mouth as he remembered how this all went down. Wynter was a junior in high school, at the time. She was getting excellent grades, was beloved by her teachers, her gymnastics coach, everyone who knew her. But when Grant disappeared, Burt and Gloria turned to the only children they had left, and punished them instead.
Wynter and her other brother, Corbin, were pulled from all extracurricular activities. They were to go to school and come straight home. Gloria was a stay-at-home mom who was more than happy to shepherd her children back and forth—the better to know where they were at all times.
That was when Sam first started sneaking into her room. The frown slid off his face. Nothing like a little martial law to make good kids want to break the rules. Well, it wasn’t like Wynter turned into a rebel wild-child. She just wanted to spend time with her friends. So she had shown Sam how to climb the twisted oak in the backyard to reach her bedroom. Thank God her parents had never figured this out. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find bars on the windows, had they known about his little visits.
In a funny way, he supposed he owed a debt of gratitude to her parents. If it weren’t for the ridiculous restrictions they put their children under, Sam and Wynter probably wouldn’t have had so much one-on-one time together. She might have gone off shopping and doing whatever it was teenage girls did. Instead, she had asked him to visit. And the two idealistic teens had spent long hours talking about their hopes and dreams.
Shaking the old memories from his head, Sam grabbed his cleaning supplies and left the office. Wynter wasn’t downstairs so the baby must have woken up. She’d be in the nursery. He didn’t like to interrupt this important bonding time, but her blinding panic was starting to become infectious. He hurried up the stairs, visions of Wynter locked in a bedroom in a fancy Florida condo giving him extra speed.
“We need a plan,” he blurted out the moment he reached the doorway to the nursery.
“Ya think?” She arched a copper brow and threw him an exasperated glare. Yep, she’s still angry.
“They aren’t taking you away. And they aren’t taking Charlotte. We just need to give them a reason to think that this is the best place for the two of you right now.”
“No place is better than theirs. You’d have to be . . . I don’t know.” She sighed, sad and defeated.
“Rich? Would that do it?” Excitement raced through his veins as Sam realized they may have a way to overcome this sticky situation.
“You want to lie about your income? That’s foolish, Sam.”
“I don’t want to lie. I want to exploit it.” He dropped to his knees in front of the rocker.
“I don’t understand.” She cocked her head to the side, her eyes squinting.
“Yeah, I live out here in the boonies. My house is modest. But I could just as easily own a mansion.” He sat down on the carpet, ducking his head to avoid looking as though he were bragging.
“So . . . I’m kinda loaded.” He chanced a look at Wynter, whose expression was more than a little skeptical. “It’s true. The gaming industry is huge. People pay big bucks for high-end software development.
When I balked at the idea of going to work at their company in Palo Alto, they made me an offer.”
“An offer you couldn’t refuse?” Again with the pointy brow.
“I guess you could say that.” His cheeks warmed as he realized that was exactly what it was. “They told me I could work from home. They doubled the offer if I’d just promise to come in once or twice a year to touch base. It’s a sweet deal.” He shrugged.
“Okay, so you’re rich. They aren’t greedy. That’s not what they’re after. I’m still a single mom. They would probably be more inclined to help you get rid of the burden. I’m only here because you are a kind and very generous friend,” she reminded him.
Sam pulled up his knees and dropped his chin to one, tapping his leg with restless fingers. She was right. Her parents would probably find that embarrassing. Their daughter was accepting handouts. He chewed on his upper lip, thinking.
“I’ve got it! They want nothing but the best for you, right? They wanted Grant to have a successful career. If he’d already been a top-notch lawyer when he found out he was going to be a dad, it wouldn’t have been an issue.”
Wynter shrugged, nodding.
“What if we convince them that we’re in a committed relationship? It’s probably too soon to announce an engagement, because of Holt.” He winced, hoping like hell that he wasn’t crossing the line.
“But if they think we’re in love, with marriage in the foreseeable future? You would be involved with a successful game developer. Your future would be ensured.” He cast a cautious glance at his friend.
“You’d do that for me?” She looked terribly embarrassed.
“I’d do anything for you, you know that.” Sam rested a palm on her knee, the awareness that jolted through him an uncomfortable distraction.
“I don’t know.” She looked pointedly at his hand until he removed it.
“It’s just for show. Once they’re gone, we go back to the original plan. You save up enough to move back to Scallop Shores.” He almost choked on the last few words.
Wynter set the baby on her shoulder and lightly tapped her little back with the heel of her hand.
“It could work. As long as there were no surprise visits.” She frowned.
“Your parents don’t do anything without a lot of preparation. I don’t think spur of the moment trips work for them. They need that element of control. They need to know that you are dropping everything to get ready for their visit.”
“Thank you, Sam. You know them so well. You know just how to get us through this.” Her grateful smile was his undoing. Sam stood up, his mood turned miserable.
“You’re forgetting one thing, Wyn. I’m the one that got us into this mess. Don’t thank me for a damned thing. We aren’t out of the woods yet.”
Disgusted with himself, Sam hung his head and trudged from the room. He had to get groceries for his ‘pretend’ future in-laws. What had he gotten himself into?