“It’s going to be all right.”
“They’re never going to let me live this down.”
My brother shook his head, mumbling something about neither wanting nor needing to know about my sex life. I hadn’t wanted him, or any of the others, to know either. And I couldn’t even bring myself to see what expression David had on his face. But while Jimmy had the manners to at least turn his head away to chuckle, Mal was outright crying from laughing so hard. “We really aren’t. We’re going to give you shit about this forever and ever.”
“No, you’re not,” said Sam simply. “Because if you do, I’ll accidentally hurt you sometime when you least expect it.”
“Y-you’ll hurt me?”
“Yes.”
“Are we talking really bad like blood and stuff?” asked Mal. “Or just a little bad like a stubbed toe or something? Because that would probably be worth it.”
“The first one.”
At this, Mal’s joy up and disappeared. “Good God, that’s harsh. Also, I don’t see how you can do it accidentally.”
“Never you mind. I’ll find a way.”
“It’ll never work. We’re totally untouchable. We’re protected by this kick-ass bodyguard. You know the guy I mean. What’s his name again? Help me out here.”
“You pay me to protect you from other people,” growled the bodyguard. “Not from myself. And I don’t like anyone upsetting my woman, is that understood?”
My shoulders stiffened at his words.
“Right then, so this is never to be mentioned again.” Sam set a hand on my shoulder, rubbing lightly. “We all make mistakes. Time to move on.”
“Well, this isn’t cool. I don’t think I like you and Marty getting together after all,” said Mal, the edges of his lips turned sadly downwards. “I’m still telling Anne all about what happened last night and you can’t stop me because it’s hilarious. After that, I guess I’ll let it go. But only because I’m a wonderful caring human being and not because you threatened me with bodily harm.”
“Thank you, Malcolm. Knew we could rely on your discretion.”
There was multiple clearing of throats and eventually they got busy doing their own thing again. Sam, however, stayed crouched at my side. “You have marker on you.”
“Gib decided he wanted to draw on me,” I said. “Give me tattoos like his father and friends.”
Sam leaned in, inspecting the artwork. “An interesting idea. Though your face was pretty enough without whatever that’s meant to be.”
“It’s a tractor, apparently. I can’t believe you told them.” Hands rubbed at my shoulders, trying to soothe. And failing miserably. “Anyone could have made that mistake. I wasn’t even very drunk. It was just really dark and I didn’t want to turn on the lights and wake anyone up. How was I to know it was the wrong ass I was slapping?”
Sam nodded in sympathy. If there was some sign of amusement in his eyes, I chose to ignore it. This time, at least.
“This thing between us was supposed to be secret,” I said. “Private.”
“Have you ever known anything that happened around this bunch and managed to remain private?”
I just scowled.
Music started up and children played and my mind was a fucking mess. But Sam waited, as patient as ever. Whatever we were, this wasn’t the place to discuss it. Not that I particularly ever wanted to discuss the situation between us. After all, nothing wrong with being fuck buddies.
“You’re not ashamed of me, are you?” he asked.
“No,” I said, mildly outraged. “That’s not it at all. I just…and you called me your woman. What was that about?”
“Oh, I was just using terms they’d understand to make sure they didn’t give you any crap.” He waved the words away like they were little more than a pesky bug. “No big deal.”
Only it kind of was. Yet there’d been enough drama today without me going off. Me being the center of attention here was not what I wanted, contrary to popular opinion. My particular brand of bitch might be all about me getting my way. But it wasn’t all about me getting my way with every damn person watching. A fine yet important distinction in my life.
At least Gibby and the twins had been too busy playing to pay attention and learn any new and fascinatingly inappropriate words. One small relief.
“Don’t frown, love. Everything’s fine.”
With a sigh, I chilled, easing up on whatever pissy expression I’d been wearing. I couldn’t even particularly be bothered getting angry with him about the endearment, though I did manage a mumbled “Stop calling me that.”
“Sorry.”
I took a deep breath. “And I’m not ashamed of you. I would never be ashamed of you. That’s a ridiculous idea.”
“Holy hell,” said Mal, breaking off from the song with a clatter of percussion, and pointing at us with a drum stick. “Did you guys see that? It’s like he’s the Martha Whisperer. Could have sworn she was going to go off and he just totally talked her down. Not even you used to be able to do that, Davie.”
“Malcolm,” said Sam sternly.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m totally minding my own business.”
“That’ll be the day,” said Ben. “Can we get back to work now?”
Sam planted a kiss on top of my head. In front of everyone. I could feel curious eyes on us. But they could all be ignored. Talk about a situation getting out of hand. And it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since we’d had our pseudo relationship whatever discussion. Things were happening too fast. All I’d wanted was to crawl all over him and use him as my very own personal sex toy. God, talk about complicated. Maybe we should slow things down.
“We’re fine, right?” I asked. “I mean, we’re still friends?”
“Of course we are. You even know which bedroom’s mine now when you’re feeling in the mood.” His thumb brushed over Gib’s artwork. Then he gave my fading black eye a quick grimace. “I’ve got to get back to work. Will I see you later?”
Ziggy came in then and called him away on some business. Just as well. I didn’t have an answer.
CHAPTER SIX
The first problem with Sam was that every time I got even close to pondering the possibility of there perhaps being an “us,” he did something to freak me out. The second was how he refused to play by the rules. My rules.
“We agreed I’d be in charge. But I don’t feel like I’m in charge,” I panted, hitting the boxing bag thingy with my carefully wrapped hands. Liz and Ben had taken Gib out to see the latest kid’s movie. Even Adam had taken himself out for the night. We had the house to ourselves and Sam had decided we should spend our time in the gym. “If I chip a nail, I will not be happy.”
Standing behind the bag, Sam held it steady. “Your nails will be fine. Wouldn’t make much sense you being in charge during your self-defense classes though, would it?”
“’spose not.”
“Don’t pout. You can be in charge after.”
“I’m not pouting.” I half-heartedly flung my fists in a one-two type motion at the bag. “Will this be the same as when I was supposedly in charge, yet you dragged me out of my room to come do this?”
“I didn’t drag you out of your room. After all, it’s not like you were in there hiding from me, is it?”
“No,” I lied. “My arms are tired. My shoulders hurt too.”
“You’ve done very well.” He smiled, turning me around so he could massage my back. Something he was exceptionally good at. “What are the three attack points again?”
“Eyes, throat, and groin.”
“And what do you do with the handbag?”
“Let the mugger take it without a fight.”
“Good girl.”
With my back to him, he couldn’t see my scowl. “It wasn’t that I valued the handbag more than my life, you know. It’s just that it was mine. You have to fight to protect what’s yours in this world, or people will walk all over you.”
“Fair point.” Followed with silence.
“But?”
More silence. Then, “You ever read anything by Miyamoto Musashi?”
“Should I have?”
“Seventeenth century warrior poet. Samurai.”