Some Day Somebody (29 page)

“
Dammit
Carrie, don’t be hard headed about this!”

She opened her car door and paused to send a glance in his direction. “You’re not making any points. Goodnight, Sam,” she added.

He dropped his head back in frustration. Okay, if he couldn’t reason with her, maybe he could scare her. He walked up to her door before she closed it, and leaned in the window as she buckled herself in. “All right, but I’m following you home.”

“You don’t have—”

“And when I get there I’m going to stay parked in your drive. And you can bet your ass before I leave town, I
will
be talking to the Gardiner police department.”

“Sam—”

“And do me a damn favor, would you?” he cut in, his voice rising in frustration. “If you see his truck pulled over somewhere, don’t stop to talk to him. If he’s in front of you, don’t try to pass him. And if he pulls up alongside you, pull into the first driveway you see, all right?” He walked back to his truck, got in...
and
waited. After almost a minute of waiting, he watched her make a u-turn on the highway, and head back toward Kenton. “I’ll be damned...” he muttered, as she passed him, keeping her eyes straight ahead. He maneuvered his much larger vehicle into a hundred and eighty and followed her.

By the time they made it home, he found himself wondering how Dave would take the news that, thanks to him, they were spending the night together. “I may have to shake the bastard’s hand for this,” he muttered. He pulled up alongside Carrie under the carport and watched her get out of her car, looking none too happy.
“Then again, maybe not.”

Sam slammed his door thinking he should try to smooth things over. “Look, you drove all the way over here to see me. It’s
my
responsibility to make sure you’re okay,” he called out as she turned her back on him to walk up the front steps. He followed her inside and locked the doors behind him.

Carrie dropped her purse on the couch and turned to him. “God, you’re heard headed!”

“I can be,” he admitted, “when it’s called for.” He hung his keys on the rack and turned to point at her. “And I don’t give a rat’s ass how pissed you are, as long as you’re safe.” Sam grinned as she wheeled away from him and let loose a low string of curses that would make any Marine proud. By the time she turned back toward him, any sign of amusement was wiped from his face.

“What do we do, now?” she asked, clearly annoyed at the situation.

“You might want to call your sister if she’s waiting at home for you.” Sam handed her his cordless and walked into his bedroom to kick off his shoes. He turned on the king sized electric blanket to high then rummaged through his clothes trying to find something for her to sleep in. He could hear her on the phone, explaining things to her sister, and saying how she was sure
he’d
overreacted. “And she called me hard-headed,” he mused. He settled on a long-sleeved flannel shirt, faded and soft from hundreds of washings. He turned, startled, to find Carrie standing there with the phone shoved toward him.

“She wants to talk to you.”

“What for?”

“I have no idea.”

Sam took the phone, holding it as though it could explode any second. “Hello?”

“So you’re Sam.”

“
That’d be me,” he said, already bristling from her tone.

“Are you using this to get into my sister’s pants?”

“What?
Hell, no!”

“Why not?
Are you gay?”

Sam rubbed his hand roughly over his forehead.
“Oh my God.”

“Are you?”
she repeated.

“Of course, not.”

“Well, then, let me give you one word of warning. If you hurt my sister, I’m going to find you and give you a world of
trouble,
you got that, big boy?
”

Sam’s breath rushed out of his gaping mouth.

“Did you hear what I said, Mr. Langley?”

“Uh...yeah...I heard you just fine. And you don’t have to worry.” He listened as dead silence greeted him. “Are you there?”

“Yeah.
Are you sure? Because she’s my sister...”

He heard her voice crack and waited for her to finish, realizing they were on the same team.

“...
and that damn Dave has already put her through too many years of hell.”

He softened his comment. “I know that, Christie—and yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay...put her back on the phone.”

Carrie waited until she heard Sam’s bathroom door close. “Chris?”

“Carrie, you didn’t shave your legs, did you?”

“Uh, last night I did, why?”

“Oh boy,”
Christie groaned.
“For future reference, unshaved legs are the best reason in the world to keep your pants on. Now, some guys would sleep with a lady bigfoot to get a piece, so you should carry condoms at all times.”

“Christie!” Carrie hissed.

“You need to know these things if you’re going to live as a single woman in today’s world. There are a lot of diseases being passed around out there.”

Carrie pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think that’s a concern right now.”

“It’s always a concern and don’t you forget it. At least you can’t get knocked up.”

“Ugh...hanging up now,” she said, watching Sam’s approach.

“
G’nigh
—”

She ended the call and put the cordless on the counter.

“Here, let me know what else you need and I can scrounge something up.”

She took the flannel shirt and toothbrush still in the package that Sam handed her. “Thanks. This’ll do. Just get me a pillow and a blanket and I’ll take the couch.”

“No, you take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Too exhausted to argue with him, she nodded then went into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, she tiptoed out of the room, her face washed free of makeup and her teeth brushed. The tail of Sam’s clean flannel shirt trailed all the way to her knees. She didn’t see Sam around so it was the perfect opportunity to sneak into bed and avoid the embarrassment of him seeing her halfway undressed. She slipped under the covers, immediately enveloped by warmth instead of the expected iciness of cold sheets.

“
Mmmm
...
electric
blanket...yes.” She burrowed deep, pulling the toasty covers up to her nose in the chilly room.

“Do you need a heater in here?”

She turned toward the sound of Sam’s voice. “Nope, this is nice. My nose gets all stuffy if I sleep with a heater on. Thanks for turning on the blanket for me, Sam.”

He smiled down at her and took one step inside the room. “You’re welcome. You need anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

He started to turn away but paused in the doorway. “You still mad at me?”

Carrie studied his demeanor, seeing the flash of guilt even though none of this was his fault. She pulled the covers down and reached for him with one hand.

He seated himself on the bed beside her.

“I’m not mad at you, Sam. I’m aggravated with Dave.”

He nodded, but remained silent.

“Somebody’s got long arms,” she said, trying to roll one sleeve without exposing too much of herself to the chilled air.

Without a word, he flipped one cuff into tight, neat rolls, then the other.

She raised her arms, now completely manageable.
“Much better.”

“You look good in my shirt.”

Carrie lowered her arms and caught his heated gaze. “It’s comfortable. I might have to take it home with me.” She raised one sleeve to her nose and sniffed. “It smells like you.”

“It’s yours.” He stood up and reached for the lamp on the nightstand. “You want this off?”

She nodded, amazed at how that statement fit so many things. His clothes...her clothes...oh man...Christie was right...It had been so long. She thought about his size thirteen shoes and felt an immediate flush in her face.

“You look even better in my bed,” she heard him say, a split second before the
click
of the lamp. “Good night, Babe.”

“Good night,” she croaked.

Sometime during the night, Sam gave up the battle of trying to find a comfortable spot on that old sofa. He crawled into the bed on the opposite side of where Carrie slept soundly.
You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.

 
Carrie awoke
slowly, aware of being wrapped in warmth.
I
gotta
get me an electric blanket.
She
lay
there, her eyes closed, drowsy from sleeping so hard, and trying to figure out why she felt so completely comfortable.

Sam snorted in his sleep.