He pulled into a parking space, pushed down the emergency brake, then turned to face her, his expression hard. “His priorities are in the wrong place.”
She shook her head, uncomfortable with the lecture-like tone he was using. Her chest inflated and she grew a little taller in her seat. “He landed one of the most coveted positions of his graduating class. I would say his priorities are right where they need to be.”
Tristan shrugged, unbuckled his seat belt, and got out of the car. “If it were me, there would be no way I’d let the woman I was in love with drive cross-country with a man I’d never met.” He slammed the door behind him and moved in the direction of the restaurant.
“Where are you going?” she shouted through the rolled-down window.
“To eat,” he said without turning around.
“But I have snacks!”
He shook his head, almost laughing. “You eat your snacks, Sam. I’m getting a burger.” But before he opened the door to walk inside, he turned and retraced his steps almost reluctantly. He ducked down, looking at her through the passenger window. “Join me if you want,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Or don’t. Your choice.” He flashed her one of his first-class smiles, then stood up and walked inside, leaving her stomach filled with butterflies, and the sudden urge to call her boyfriend.
8
Chapter Eight
Present day
“Good afternoon, Connor and Associates, how may I direct your call?”
Samantha shoved the last bits of jerky into her mouth and rolled down the bag. “Steven Mathers, please.”
Tristan had been gone no longer than two minutes, but it was long enough for her to have a mini panic attack about her relationship. She was still seething over Tristan’s comment about priorities. Possibly because the way he said it reminded her of Renee, or maybe it was the disappointment in his eyes when he said it, but it bothered the hell out of her. Tristan didn’t know her. He didn’t know how her and Steven’s relationship functioned—yet he’d made a split second judgment about Steven’s priorities.
“Hold please,” the operator said, sending Samantha to elevator music while she tucked the bag of jerky back in her purse.
It wasn’t until that moment with Tristan, that she realized she hadn’t told Steven at all that she was leaving. Not because it was a secret. Because he was busy with work and she didn’t want to bother him. But now that Tristan’s words were in her head, she couldn’t help but feel guilty.
What if he was upset she’d gone with Tristan? What if Tristan was right, and Steven didn’t like the idea of her driving cross-country with a man he’d never met?
Though he had met him… A long time ago, but he had.
At first she was angry, but the more she thought about it, Tristan may be right. If the situation were reversed, and Steven was driving cross-country with a woman she’d never met, she wouldn’t like it one bit. And she wasn’t even the jealous type. Her stomached coiled deep inside and she worried her bottom lip.
Steven’s voice came through the line, hurried and out of breath. “Steven Mathers,” he answered, making her anxiety flair and her face to cringe with regret.
She’d caught him at a bad time, she was sure of it. “Hey, it’s me.” She whisper-replied.
“Sam.” He lowered his voice and muffled the receiver. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I—”
“Can I call you later? I really shouldn’t be on the phone.”
She bit her bottom lip, determined to get the words out. She glanced through the window of the restaurant, where Tristan could be seen looking at a menu. “I’m calling to tell you I left for New York this morning.”
“What?” he questioned, a little shocked.
“Yeah… You see, Renee’s brother was leaving today, and she thought it would be a good idea for us to drive together.”
“And this was so important you called me at work?”
She frowned. “You’re not angry?”
He hesitated a moment, as though contemplating the question. “Are you a big girl, Samantha?”
She picked at her fingernail, then scrunched her shoulders nervously. “I don’t know? You’re not jealous because I’m with another guy?”
“Should I be?”
She shook her head, looking down to her lap. “No.”
“Honey, I trust you. You’ve never given me any reason not to. You make your decisions, and I make mine. That’s what I love about us. I don’t want to be one of those couples that can’t make decisions without the other. I’m secure enough in my manhood to trust the woman I love.”
Samantha closed her eyes, pulling in her first real breath in the last five minutes. “You’re right.” She sighed. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He chuckled. “I really have to get back to work now. Are we good?”
She nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“Okay, be safe baby. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Six years earlier
The ride back to the Montgomerys’ was surprisingly uneventful. Samantha and Renee had been seated at the back of the van, where Samantha buried her face in a pillow and covered her head with the hood of her jacket. But Tristan had sat catty-corner in the captain’s chair, reading. Which was something she’d never seen him do before.
Was this new for him, could it be some secret tactic to make her fall for him a little more, or had she simply never paid enough attention to notice? But she was paying attention now—so much so, she couldn’t seem to look away. She watched him out of corner of her eye, each expression as he got lost in his story—and when he smiled, that wicked grin that made her heart skip a beat, she almost rolled out of her seat.
Last night’s kiss had haunted her so much she’d barely slept—because she kept wondering if he’d been affected the same way. If he had any inclination about how many times she wished she would have followed him down to his bedroom. But mostly, she thought about Renee. About what she would say when she told her the truth.
As the hours passed by, Samantha began planning out each word she would use to explain what happened. The exact punctuation, down to the tone she would use as she told Renee about her first kiss. But when they pulled into the driveway of the two-story craftsman, she realized five hours wasn’t nearly long enough time to prepare. She’d been practicing nearly every minute, yet nothing had come to her that was good enough. Nothing could justify the fact that she’d kissed her best friend’s brother, really kissed him without holding back. The boy they’d hated together for as long as she could remember. The one thing that bound their friendship from the very start.
“Well, we made it!” Mr. Montgomery said, throwing the van in park. He looked to back seat, where he shoved Tristan’s knee to make sure he was awake. “If we can get this ship unloaded in thirty minutes, I’ll buy everyone pizza.”