Page 52 of But For You

Hannah’s greeting, high-pitched and excited, always tempered the impression he made on strangers. How scary could he be if he knelt to receive the little girl who hopped off her chair to run to him? And they had their Dirty Dancing ritual—he lifted her, and she did the airplane pose.

There was applause, and once she was back in his arms, she scrunched up her shoulders and waved. She was so cute; sometimes, it took all that I had not to eat her.

Sam moved like he always did—fluidly, his innate power so easy to see. When he returned Hannah to her chair, he put a hand on the back of mine before he leaned down close. I was surprised when he kissed my cheek, as the action was more than he was normally comfortable with in public.

“Hi,” I greeted him, my hand going to his shoulder. “How was your day?”

He ran his stubble-covered cheek up the side of my neck to behind my ear. “I missed you.”

It was just a simple statement, but because of his closeness, the soft and husky growl, and the warm breath on my skin, it felt so very intimate. I caught my breath.

“Did you miss me, or did you replace me?” He was teasing, mostly.

“Ridiculous man,” I breathed out as I tilted my head back to look up into the dark smoky-blue eyes. “Let me introduce you.”

I saw his jaw clench and knew why. My soft voice, hooded gaze, and the lazy smile I gave him all reminded him of sex, and that fast, he was mine. He tumbled into my web so easily.

“Sam, this is Milton Kage; his mother, Denise; and his son, Theo. Everyone, this is Sam.”

Milt stood to offer him his hand. “Heard a lot about you today, Marshal. Your family doesn’t talk about much else.”

Quickly, he was on the receiving end of a happy, smiling Sam Kage.

“Pleasure.”

After Sam shook hands with everyone, he hugged Kola and then returned to me, his hand, whether he knew it or not, settling on the base of my throat.

“I’m sending Riley and Peter up to babysit so you can meet me in the bar overlooking the mountains. They have a blue margarita that apparently, Jen says, you would like.”

“Okay.” I smiled up at him. “What time will you be there?”

“I have to go with my dad and Michael to meet some people, so, eight?”

“Eight is perfect.” I sighed, unable to help myself.

“It’s a date.”

“It’s drinks,” I clarified, “and I’m bringing my wingman.”

His eyes flicked over to Milt and then back to me. “You do that.”

The Blue Moon Lounge, with its indigo-illuminated floor, cobalt glassware, and blue Formica, was aptly named. As I sat with Milton at the bar, nursing a blue Hawaiian—because I thought it would be funny—I should have been the picture of ease. I was tense.

Sam was late.

Sam was never late.

If, heaven forbid, the man couldn’t avoid being tardy, I could always count on a call, letting me know what the problem was. It was unsettling that he was not there.

I tried his cell, and it went immediately to voicemail. My heart was suddenly in my throat.

“Jory, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Milton told me. “Have another drink.”

But it was nine, and then it was ten, and Sam didn’t answer any of my texts.

“Jory, I’m sure he⁠—”

“No,” I told him, excusing myself, abandoning Milton to go back to the room to check to see if Sam was there.