“AND HERE IS Sam at four. We went for ‘All Night Long’ Lionel that year. I think it turned out pretty great,” Sam’s mom said as she turned the page of a huge photo album.
For over an hour, the two of us had sat at one of the corner tables flipping through page after page of Sam’s childhood. There were numerous pictures of Anne and Sam’s dad too. It was easy to see where Sam got his good looks, but after talking to his mom, it was easy to see how he’d turned out to be such an amazing man as well.
“All right. Enough is enough,” Sam said as he strolled up beside us with a beer in one hand and a gift bag in his other.
“Whatcha got there, hot stuff?” I asked as he placed the gift bag in front of me.
“Well, I figured we should show Mom our photo album too?” He tossed me a mischievous grin.
“We have a photo album?” I asked.
“Yep,” he answered as his smile grew. “Hey, Henry. Wanna see how Levee and I met?”
I immediately pushed to my feet as my eyes nervously flashed down to his mom. I did not want her to know how Sam and I had met. Hell, I wished Sam didn’t even remember how we’d met.
“Umm, maybe we shouldn’t do this here?”
Looping an arm around my waist, he tugged me against his chest and whispered, “It’s not what you think.”
I swallowed hard and searched his eyes, finding them dancing with humor. “Okay,” I breathed, sitting back down as everyone gathered around us.
After reaching into the bag, I pulled out a rectangular book. It was the shape of a license plate, and on the front, in an airbrushed font, was Sam & Levee 4-eva.
I started laughing, but as I opened the book, my vision began to swim.
Yeah, Sam had been busy.
Once upon a time… was written in script across the top of the page. The image was one of Sam’s composites where he’d cropped us together. And, for once, I wasn’t falling on my face. We appeared to be on a street corner, and Sam was sitting on the ground in filthy clothes, holding a cup for change, with Sampson sleeping at his side. His mouth was hanging open in awe as he looked up at me.
For me, he had used a still from one of my music videos where I was dressed from head to toe like the princess America viewed me as. My expression was fierce, and my curls were blown back away from my face while my leg peeked from the high slit in my sexy version of a ball gown.
“Oh my God,” I laughed.
The next page read: The princess met a pauper and gave him a job building her bookshelves.
The image was of me standing over him with my arms crossed while he looked like he was yelling at me, but in his hand was the unmistakable hollowed-out body of one of my Gibsons.
I sucked in a sharp breath, looking up at him in question.
“I only made you two of them,” he explained. “I figure you can sign the other two and we can donate them to a charity auction or something. Make us both feel better about destroying twenty-four grand.”
At that, my vision did more than just swim. A tear rolled down my cheek as a huge smile spread across my lips.
Sam used his thumb to wipe it away, whispering, “I’m glad you approve.”
I went back to the book, turning the page to find the caption: The princess didn’t realize how much she would like the pauper’s beer and chicken.
I burst into laughter at the picture of Sam in a pair of jeans that were riding low on his hips. He was shirtless and his abs were flexed impossibly tight, and if I wasn’t mistaken, they were airbrushed a good bit too. Even from behind the beer bottle that was tipped to his lips, I could see the smirk on his mouth.
I had no idea how he’d found a picture of me on my hands and knees, but somehow, he had, and he’d placed me directly in front of him. If it hadn’t been for the rooster I appeared to be chasing from between his feet, it would have most definitely been X-rated.
Henry suddenly piped up behind me. “I’m going to need a copy of this book.”
“Consider it done,” Sam answered without hesitation.