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It was so hard to wait, but he wouldn’t have to wait long. Samara wasn't dead, he was sure he would feel it if she was. In the morning, he would go to her house, and hopefully by this time tomorrow the two of them would be here together, happy, in love, and ready to spend their first night together.
Smiling, Dante picked up a garland and got busy finishing decorating the cabin.
December 21st
8:29 A.M.
“You ready to go?” Michael Stein asked Samara.
She looked back at him blankly for a moment before her blue eyes cleared and she nodded. “Mmhmm.”
“You don’t want to stay a few more days?” Samara was a mottled patchwork of black and blue bruises and red scrapes. She was hunched over as though in pain, and she had a concussion. Add to that the fact that her stalker had managed to track her down and had made it clear he wanted her and wasn't shy about coming after her, and Michael thought a couple more days in the hospital was probably a smart idea.
It didn't look like Samara agreed.
The look she shot him suggested he had just asked her to throw herself into a vat of boiling acid that was also full of alligators and sharks.
“No,” she said emphatically. “I’m not staying here any longer. It was bad enough spending the night. Fin said I was fine to go home,” she added like her brother’s word was God.
And to be honest, that wasn't really what her brother had said.
What Fin hadactuallysaid was that his sister’s body had taken a beating, and despite the fact she didn't have any serious injuries, with the number of bruises she had from throwing herself out of a moving car, combined with the psychological shock spending at least another day or two in the hospital would be a good idea.
It was also a safer idea.
With a stalker who had already tried to abduct her once, she was going to be a lot safer in the hospital with a guard at her door than she was in her house where the stalker probably alreadyknew she lived.
Which was why he was here.
Until this man was caught, he was Samara’s bodyguard.
That presented its own litany of problems.
His friend and colleague Sawyer Watson thought that he was in love with Samara. Michael wasn't so sure. He didn't allow himself to consider the possibility. It was better to stay friends with her. Friends was safe. Friends meant no one got hurt. He’d hurt enough people in his thirty years, he wasn't going to hurt anyone else. Ever. Even if that meant he spent the rest of his life alone.
Living in Samara’s house wasn't going to be easy.
Being so close to her, seeing her every day, and spending so much time together. Could he keep the feelings he wouldn’t acknowledge locked tightly away?
He prayed he could.
“All right then, let’s get you home and into bed,” he said. If Samara insisted on returning home, then they may as well get there quickly so she could get some more rest. She needed to rest to recover in case the stalker came after her again, she needed to be one hundred percent or as close to it as possible. He would lay down his life rather than let anything happen to Samara, but he was a bodyguard not God, and no one could guarantee her safety.
“Thanks, Mike.” She offered him a small smile. Samara didn't smile often, but when she did it transformed her. Her large blue eyes got a sparkle in them, and her face relaxed, she looked beautiful. Stunning really. He could stare at her forever. It didn't look like his plan to pretend he wasn't desperately in love with her was going to last very long.
“No need for thanks,” he said briskly, picking up her bags and intending to head out to the car, but Samara reached out and caught his hand, stopping him.
“Of course, I need to thank you,” she contradicted. “It’s a couple of days before Christmas, you're best man in Sawyer and Ashley’s wedding, and you have to give up your life for who knows how long to come and stay with me. That definitely deserves a thank you. Actually, it deserves a whole lot more, I don’t know how I'm going to repay you.” By the time she finished talking, her eyes were looking watery.
Tears were the last thing he wanted.
Michael hated to see Samara sad. If it was possible, he would take away all her pain and fears, and the feelings of inadequacy that he knew weighed her down. He didn't like knowing that she was suffering and walking around beating herself up over her past.
“Hey,” he curled his fingers around hers and squeezed, “no thanks necessary. Seriously, Samara. We’re friends, there is nowhere else I'd rather be.”
His words seemed to reassure her, and she relaxed, her eyes clearing. She didn't release her hold on his hand, but she did smile again. “I guess it’ll be fun having a roommate for a while, I haven't lived with anyone since I was seventeen.”
He hadn't lived with anyone in a long time either.
