Goddess Rising (29 page)

Wes caressed her cheek one last time before stepping back. “One of these days, you’re going to let go with me, Sammy.”

That was exactly what she was afraid of.

“Sleep tight, darlin’,” he whispered, disappearing out her door.

*

September—Sunday, Late Morning

Sam’s Apartment, Texas A&M

S A M A N T H A

“Sammy! Open up!”

Sam groaned, rolling over and stuffing her head under her pillow.

“
Jaina
, I know you’re in there! And unless you’ve got one or both of those hot boys in there with you, you’d better open up!”

“Go away!”

Sam heard Rita cackle through the door. “I made you cof-
fee
,” she sing-songed.

And that did it. If Sam was a sucker for anything, it was a powerful cup of joe, and she liked nothing better than the kind Rita made, espresso strong enough to scent an entire room. She even added a dollop of condensed milk at the bottom—just enough to deliver a sugar rush into the system along with the jolt of caffeine.

Padding out to her living room in her sleep shirt and boy shorts, Sam swung open the door to find Rita leaning indolently against the frame, her smile just shy of nefarious.

“You naughty, naughty bitch,
mija
,” Rita purred, pushing in. “I’d be jealous if I wasn’t so damn proud of you.” She handed Sam a travel mug.

“What are you talking about?” Sam mumbled, unscrewing the lid to sniff the contents.
Heaven. Pure heaven.

“How do you figure?” Sam asked before taking that first hot, delicious sip.

“You’ve got one guy following you around ROTC under the guise of being a reporter, when really, he’s a lovesick fool—
that
one’s totally obvious.” Rita tucked her legs under her. “And then you’ve got his roommate basically being your fake boyfriend when all he really wants is to be the real thing. It’d be diabolical if they didn’t both know what was going on, but seriously—I’m
impressed
.”

Sam plopped down across from her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but it’s gotten way messier than that,” she replied, wry.

“How so?”

“I nearly crossed the Rubicon with Wes last night.”

Rita shot her a confused look. “Er… what?”

Sam took another sip of coffee, recalling what had nearly happened just a few hours ago. “I know I have no business getting mixed up with Wes,” Sam admitted, rubbing her forehead absently. “There are a hundred good reasons not to, but damn if I don’t find excuses to be close to him, even when I know he’s no good for me.”

Rita laughed softly. “Honey—welcome to what women have been telling themselves for hundreds of years.”

Sam dropped her head back, staring unseeing up at her ceiling. She could recall in painstaking detail the scent and feel of Wes last night, not ten feet away from where she was sitting right now.

“Truth is, I’m not ready for a guy like Wes,” Sam admitted. “He’s a damn handful and probably far more trouble than he’s worth—”

“
But
—?” Rita prompted, stopping her mid-list.

“—But I want him,” Sam confessed finally, admitting the truth. “My brain knows better. But that doesn’t seem to change the way I feel.” Sam sipped her coffee, troubled. “I’ve never been so damn conflicted before. It’s making me an indecisive mess.”

Rita laughed, clearly amused. “
Jaina
, men have been making women feel that way since Adam. This is just the first time you’ve ever come up against it is all.”

“I know, I know—I
just
—” Sam heaved a sigh, looking out the window at the sunlight filtering through the blinds. “I just don’t have much experience with this.”

“Wait,” Rita sat up, looking sharply at her. “I always thought you just weren’t interested in any of the idiots making a play for you, but—what do you mean by ‘don’t have much experience’?”

“You know I’ve dated,” Sam hedged, not meeting her friend’s eyes. “I mean
, a little
. I guess as much as a girl in my town could, with my dad’s reputation and my Uncle Grant brandishing weapons with a posse of roughnecks in the background.”

Sam supposed that wasn’t entirely fair. Her father and Uncle Grant had never prohibited her from going out on dates. Lord knew that her Aunt Hannah had encouraged it, thrilled at the prospect of homecoming dances and prom—those rare occasions she could transform Sam from tomboy to debutante.

But Sam had never
wanted
to do more with the boys she’d grown up with, and the older she’d gotten, the more aware she’d become of her position, clear that her untouched status made her a prize to be won rather than a girl to be cherished, as corny as that sounded. She’d heard the snotty things girls at school said about her, had gotten wind of the nasty things guys wanted to do with her given the chance. And so she’d just avoided it, playing it safe because it was easier than becoming a notch on someone’s bedpost.

And, at A&M, Sam had continued to avoid guys, figuring the kind of casual hook-up sex everyone seemed to be having wasn’t worth the effort or the potential for humiliation—not with the kind of goals she had in mind. She was already seen as a self-entitled rich girl. She didn’t want to add
slutty
to the list of adjectives that followed her relentlessly, shadowing everything she did.

“That’s what you meant by crossing the Rubicon?” Rita asked, poking her shoulder. “You’ve
never
—”

“No,” Sam answered flatly, cutting her off at the pass. “I’ve
never
—no.”

“Shit,” Rita shook her head. “I think I was barely out of my
quinceañera
dress before my first time on the merry-go-round.”

“We can’t all be shameless hussies,” Sam replied, smirking.

“Ha!” Rita tossed a pillow at her. “I’m shocked to hear that you’re actually a closet prude,
jaina
.”

“I’m not a prude—”
I’m just not ready. I’m so far out of my league here—

Rita sensed her sudden reticence. “What is it?”

“How do you know when you’re ready?” Sam asked uncertainly. “I mean, how do you know it’s the right guy?”

Rita’s expression softened. “You don’t, babe. That’s why the general advice is usually to take it slow.”

“Like you did?” Sam pointed out with a wry expression.

“
Mirar
, I never said I was a good example.” Rita pursed her lips, considering her. “But I do know that if you feel like this about Wes, you definitely need to stop whatever bullshit you’re up to with Chris.”

“Chris knows the score.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s got a thing for you. There’s no way he’s not going to get hurt once you and Wes finally get your shit together.” Rita shook her head. “Question is, how much do you hurt him? A little nick now that smarts like a paper cut or do you bludgeon him and potentially ruin his friendship with Wes?”

“I don’t want to get between him and Wes,” Sam protested.

“Too late,
chica
—that’s already happened,” Rita replied.

This was all so overwhelming. She’d gotten in way over her head—but then, it’d been that way with Wes since day one. Sam thought about the way he’d looked at her last night. Gone was the laid-back campus Romeo, replaced by a guy so intensely focused that ambition and vitality came off him like heat. Wes was coming for her—no doubt about it. And it thrilled her as much as it scared the shit out of her.

“So why didn’t you last night?” Rita asked gently.

“I told you—”

“No, you rationalized,” Rita replied. “Tell me what freaked you out in that exact moment. Tell me what made you stop.”

Sam sipped her coffee, ran a hand through her hair. “I guess because I don’t trust him yet.”

“And?” Rita prompted, her gaze shrewd.

“And I don’t feel safe with him.”

“You think he’d hurt you?” Rita asked, puzzled.

“Not like that.” Sam shook her head. “But in the long run, I think he’d have the capacity to—yes.”

Rita laughed softly. “It’s funny,
jaina
—I watch you take risks all the time with ROTC. But when a guy comes along that you really like, you’re like
‘¡No mames!’
No way!” she said, holding her hands out in a defensive motion.

“It’s different,” Sam huffed. “Those are calculated risks.”

“
Bullshit
. Those are just the risks you’re comfortable with,” Rita countered, calling her out. “You’re like the ‘Queen of Control’,
jaina
. And you can’t control this. You can’t control Wes, and you sure as hell can’t control how you feel about him, so you make up all these really rational excuses for why you can’t do the freak nasty with a guy who’s just begging to show you all the ways he can make you feel good.” Rita sighed dramatically. “If I had a guy like Wes on lock,
shit, chica
—don’t even get me started. That boy would be lucky if I let him out of my room!”

“More irrefutable proof we’re opposites,” Sam replied. “I’m not like you. I can’t just throw caution into the wind for a good time.”

“Why not?”

“Because life doesn’t work that way.”

“Says who?”

Sam sighed. “Life doesn’t work that way for
me
, Rita. I’ve got too much riding on my reputation to just blow it all on a fast ride with a hot guy who will just use me and dump me.”

Rita blinked in confusion. “Who says that’s what he’ll do? The way Wes was looking at you last night, I’d say he’s not thinking of you for a one-night anything.”

“Says you.”

“Who in this room has more experience with boys? Raise your hand,” Rita answered, her brow raised.

“Okay! Okay, enough of the guy angst,” Sam said, rubbing her temples. “You ready for the final elimination?” she asked instead, hoping Rita would let her off the hook.

Rita eyed her for a moment before shrugging. “About as ready as you can be without knowing what the next obstacle is.”

Sam leaned forward, thinking. “We’re down to eighteen cadets. They’ve got to make the cut to nine for the competition, with three alternates.”

“I bet you fifty bucks you make it to the final team,” Rita told her. “My gangbanging skills got me through the pistol contest, but I don’t think they’re going to carry me through whatever they’ve got planned next,” she admitted uncertainly.

Sam rolled her eyes. “You may be from a rough neighborhood, but you were hardly a gang banger.”

“Not like little Rox is heading anyway,” Rita huffed.

“Alejandro’s little sister?” Sam asked, brows raised in surprise. “Isn’t she like thirteen or something?”

“What’s she up to?”

“She’s barely fourteen, and she’s already a runner!” Rita threw her hands up. “Auntie’s taking her to Mexico, hoping that’ll get her head on straight, to be in the motherland with the family.”

“So her mother’s not ill?”

“Nah,” Rita shook her head. “She’s a tough old bird, too—she’ll outlive us all, no lie. Nah, Auntie Lupe is hoping
Abuela
will set Rox straight before the sun’s down.”

Sam’s brow creased. “What’s a runner anyway?”

“Like an assistant to one of the older gang members,” Rita explained. “They do whatever needs doing. Lookout, errands, dealing—you name it. It’s the first step to getting in with the Latin Queens.”

“Jesus.”

“If Ry got caught up in something like that—” Sam shuddered at the thought.

“Be glad you come from the boondocks,
chica
,” Rita told her. “What’s the most your little brother can get into?”

Sam thanked her lucky stars Ry and Carey were such good kids. Rascals and hell-raisers when they wanted to be, but they’d never done more than scare the shit out of the chickens with BB guns.

She shook her head with a sudden laugh. “Alejandro looked so different last night, what with being the good son and doting on his mama. I almost didn’t recognize him.”

Rita smiled. “It’s crazy right? He acts hard, but Alejo’s a mama’s boy if I ever saw one. And he loves Roxy something terrible. He helped raise her after their papa died.”

“So Rox is his Ryland.”

“Yep.” Rita nodded. She leaned back, smiling a little at Sam. “I know you two argue like crazy, but you both may have more in common than you realize.”