Authors: RaShelle Workman
Seven
While Simone showered her mom called her sisters. After she finished, she dressed and went into the kitchen. Her sisters were sitting at the table, laughing and eating. It smelled delicious, like bacon and coffee.
“Hey, party animal. Next time you drink a bottle of vodka, invite me over. I want to have fun too,” Liv said. Simone blushed. She’d been angry and sad and frustrated last night, but she hadn’t meant to overdo it.
“What, no makeup?” Heather asked.
Simone shook her head, working to ignore the sick worry filling her stomach. For some reason she fretted that if she put on makeup and did herself up for Sam, she’d jinx whatever was happening and he wouldn’t come back. So she’d put on an old pair of jeans and an oversized button up blue shirt. Her feet were bare, and her wet hair was in a bun. She’d brushed her teeth, shaved her legs, and put deodorant on. Any more would seem hopeful, or so she told herself.
Sara glanced over. “You’ve got a way with words, dear sister.” She indicated the open laptop.
Simone chuckled along with her mom and sisters. “Where’s Sabrina?” she asked, turning in a circle.
“I put her down for a nap,” her mom said, taking a bite of bacon.
Simone stole a piece of bacon off her plate and shoved it in her mouth. “Mmmmm, delicious.” She went for another but her mom slapped her hand away.
“Get your own.” She pointed toward a plate on the counter.
She looked over and noticed there was buttered toast as well. She grabbed a plate, took another piece of bacon and two pieces of toast. Homemade strawberry jam sat on the table and she used a knife and covered the toast. “Heather, did you make this?” she asked, taking a bite.
Simone bit into her toast and smiled around the jam. “Yeah, hope you like it.”
“It’s delicious. You shouldn’t have started without me.” She chewed slowly, happy to be with her family, offering a silent prayer of thanks.
“It isn’t my fault you were in the shower when I brought it over.”
“Still, if it’s min—”
There was a knock at the door. Simone knew who it was, who it had to be. “Sam,” she whispered, her stomach flying into her throat. She stood, but couldn’t go to the door. She was too nervous.
“I’m so excited we finally get to meet him,” Sara said, walking past Simone and opening the door.
It was Sam. He still wore his jeans, tee shirt, and boots. His hair was pushed back off his face and Simone could see the crinkles on the sides of his eyes. In his arms were bags filled with stuff.
He’d come back. Simone covered her mouth, unable to stop the happy giggle that gurgled up through her chest.
Sam’s eyes found hers and he winked.
Simone’s mom took charge since she couldn’t move, her sisters were gawking, and Sam was still standing in the doorway. “Let the man in, ladies. For goodness sake.” She pushed aside Simone’s sisters and pulled him in the house by the arm.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Take a seat.”
Sam sat on the couch, on the center cushion. He leaned back, resting his hands on his knees. Liv sat on the cushion to the left of him and Sara sat on the cushion to the right. Simone’s mom took the rocking chair.
“So why don’t you tell us about yourself?” Simone’s mom asked, crossing one leg over the other. Liv and Sara leaned in, gigantic grins plastered on their faces.
“Well, okay.” He made eye contact with each of them. “I’m from Dallas. I met Simone a couple of summers ago. I fell hard for her and, apparently,” he clasped his hands together and glanced around the room, “I have a daughter.”
Liv patted him on the knee. “What do you do for a living?”
“My family is in the oil industry. My great-granddaddy started it many years ago. It’s been passed down from father to son and was…” He took a deep breath before continuing, “ultimately passed on to me.”
Holy crap. He belonged to those Merricks. As in Merrick Oil. They had the jingle
If you want your car to last, get your gas fast at Meerrrr-iiiiick.
They were the biggest oil company in the United States.
Simone never would’ve guessed he was so incredibly wealthy, not by looking at him. His clothes were casual, and the way he wore his hair—longer. At the moment he even had a little scruff on his face. He didn’t look like a man who was the sole heir to the Merrick fortune.
The St. James sisters and their mom were small town people, but that didn’t mean they lived under rocks. Everyone knew the Merrick Oil name. Her sisters were suddenly excited, all chatting up Sam at once. Even her mom’s eyes perked up. Simone still hadn’t moved.
She and Sam had nothing in common. He was like royalty and she was a mere commoner. Just a librarian from a beach town in Oregon. She’d never been anywhere or done anything, and she was okay with that. But Sam? He was an American prince.
Sabrina started to cry and Simone snapped to attention. Sam stood as well. “May I go see her with you?”
A hint of a smile crossed her lips. Then she cleared her throat. Whatever she was didn’t matter. Sabrina was his daughter. “Yeah. Sure.”
Simone glanced at her mom. She stood and walked to the door. “Come on, you three. Let’s give these two some privacy.”
Three grown women threw mini temper tantrums, but grudgingly left. When the door was closed, Simone looked shyly at Sam.
“Ready to meet your daughter?”
“Yes, I am.”
Eight
Sabrina’s bedroom was small. Simone had painted the walls butter yellow. The curtains and bedding were white. The crib was honey colored and there were large stickers of the Winnie-the-Pooh characters adorning the walls. Across from the crib was a dresser with a Winnie-the-Pooh lamp. Under the window stood the changing table and across from that was the closet.
Simone went to Sabrina. “Hi, baby-girl. Did you have a nice nap?” Sabrina stopped crying and smiled. Sam came up behind her and she heard him suck in his breath.
“She’s so beautiful, Sim.”
Tingly warmth prickled along her body and stopped within her heart. It hurt. She wasn’t sure what Sam’s plans were, but she wanted him to stay with her, with them.
“She is,” Simone agreed, nuzzling her daughter’s neck. Sabrina giggled.
“May I hold her?”
Simone turned toward him. “What do you think, Sabrina? Should we let Daddy hold you?” Sabrina smiled wide.
Sam held out his arms and Simone placed Sabrina in them. She looked so tiny against his large chest. Carefully he turned the baby so Sabrina faced him.
Seeing the way he held her, the way he looked at her as though she was the most precious gift he’d ever been given, made Simone hot for him. So damn hot. She wanted to rip his clothes off and do things.
He looked at Simone and she was sure he knew what she was thinking. “This turns you on, doesn’t it?”
She swallowed and stuffed her hands in her front pockets. “Whatever.”
He laughed and Sabrina giggled. “I think it does. I think your mommy likes seeing you in my arms, baby.”
Simone left the room so she could hide her intense blush. Everything seemed to be happening so fast. Last night he’d called her a liar. Now he accepted the truth and everything was fine. She wanted it to be, but she kept remembering how little she knew about him. How much time had passed without hearing a word from him? Those things mattered, didn’t they?
Sam followed Simone out of Sabrina’s bedroom. He sat on the couch. It was easy to see the wonder in his eyes. Simone went into the kitchen. It was almost time for Sabrina to eat again.
How would he handle feeding her, burping her, changing her diaper? Sure, babies were cute, but they were also a lot of work. They were sometimes messy, and smelly, and irritating. Simone adored everything about Sabrina, but then she’d given birth to her. Sam wasn’t around for the pregnancy or the birth. He had no connection with her other than what he was doing now.
Simone glanced into the living room and saw Sam cooing quietly to Sabrina. He had her head in his hands. Her body was a little longer than his forearms. He was bouncing her up and down gently while he spoke. Sabrina tried to reach out and grab his face and he kissed her fingers.
Another wave of lust ran through Simone. Good grief! Was he being so sexy on purpose?
Sabrina let out a little whimper.
Sam looked up and smirked. “You’re getting her something to eat, right?”
Simone shook herself out of her lusty haze. “Yes.” Her voice sounded hoarse and Sam winked. “It’s almost ready.” She put the lid on the bottle and brought it over.
“See, Mommy’s handling it. Yes, she is.”
“Want me to feed her?” Simone asked, picking up a burp cloth from the armrest on the rocking chair.
“I’d like to, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” she said, unconvinced he really wanted to do it. “You may need to burp her after a while. Do you know how?”
Sam’s face grew serious. “When she’s ready, I’ll let you show me.”
He scooted back on the couch and turned Sabrina so her head rested on his right arm, then put the bottle in her mouth. Simone watched his face melt. “Simone, she’s the most amazing child I’ve ever seen.” He kept his eyes on Sabrina and continued. “I’m so sorry I doubted you. My wife and I tried for years. When we finally decided to be tested our doctor told me it was highly unlikely I would ever be a able to have children.” Sabrina took the bottle from his hand and held it herself.
“Did he say why?” Simone asked, sitting in the rocking chair, watching him—admiring him, really.
“I didn’t have enough boys in the tank. At least that’s what I was told.” Sam shrugged. “We talked about other methods, but not too long after that appointment she got sick and our focus changed.” His eyes met mine. “I—” his eyes watered. He closed them and shook his head slightly. “I won’t lose you, Simone. Understand that?” He opened his eyes and they pierced into Simone, held her in place.
Her breath hitched and she leaned forward, clasping her hands together. How could she make him understand what he was saying? It was obvious he cared and that felt good, damn wonderful in fact, but… “Sam, we haven’t seen each other in two years, and while it’s obvious you’ve taken to your daughter and she you…” Simone paused unable to go on.
From the moment she received his email every feeling she ever had for him returned in full. Was it possible he still had feelings for her?
“Simone? Sim?”
She shook away her thoughts. “Yes, Sam?”
“She’s ready to be burped.”
“Oh, right.” She went and sat next to him, then took Sabrina. “Hey, baby-girl.” She sat Sabrina on her lap, one hand on her baby’s back, the other near her head in front. The burp cloth was in the hand near Sabrina’s face. “Babies used to be burped by patting them on the back while you draped them over your shoulder, but my pediatrician showed me this way. See, if you just lean her over a little and rub her back—” Sabrina interrupted with a burp. “See? It works really well. Wanna try?”
“Sure.” Sam took her and copied the way Simone had been holding Sabrina. When the burp cloth was in his hand she helped him put it in the right spot. “Like this?”
“Yep, you got it. Now just gently rub her back.”
Sam carefully did and Sabrina burped twice more.
“Easy, right?”
“Not too bad,” Sam agreed.
Simone snickered. “Good, ‘cause when you’re done feeding her you get to change her diaper.”
He grimaced and then winked. “No problem. I can handle it.”
“I’m going to make something to eat. Any requests?”
“Whatever you’re having,” he said, his focus back on the baby.
Simone made two bologna and cheese sandwiches with a little mayo, a side of chips, and a bunch of red grapes. She set the plates on the table and went back into the living room. Sam was burping Sabrina again.
Simone leaned against the wall and watched. When he glanced up at her, she smiled. It would be easy to get used to a life with Sam in it. But the fact remained he was oil royalty. He had responsibilities, meetings to attend, money to make, an image to keep up, and probably a lot of women with no kids and no cancer vying for his attention. Whatever he was doing in Bandon was nothing more than another Summer fling. It wouldn’t last long. His vacation would end or he’d tire of her and the baby and leave again. Leave her again.
Even if he said he didn’t want to, he’d have to. It wasn’t like he could give his life up for Simone.
“Lunch is ready,” she said, trying to fight back her sadness.
“Good, I’m starved,” he said, standing and handing over Sabrina’s empty bottle.
“Give her to me. I’ll change her and let you eat.”
Sam shook his head. “I’ll change her. You just show me what to do.”
“Can’t wait to see this,” she said, following him into Sabrina’s bedroom.
He laid Sabrina on the changing table and scooted over. “Will you stand beside me and walk me through this?” A combination of fear and determination crossed his features.
Simone went through the steps, talking as she did them until Sabrina’s diaper had been changed. “Think you can handle it next time?” she asked when she finished.
“Of course,” he said waving his hand at her nonchalantly. “Although you might have to show me a couple more times.”
She laughed. “Fine,” she said with mock sarcasm. “Let’s wash our hands and then we can eat.”
They took turns cleaning up in the bathroom before walking into the kitchen. Sam cuddled Sabrina close to his chest.
Simone opened her arms. “Let me put her in her bouncy chair.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “What’s a bouncy chair?”
“Well,” Simone began, taking Sabrina and setting her in what looked like a banana chair adorned with elephants, monkeys, and birds. “This is a bouncy chair.” Simone buckled her in and Sabrina started to kick her legs. The chair bounced with her movements. “See, it bounces.”
She picked up her baby and the chair together and set it on the table. “Never leave her on the table or a counter unattended. The whole chair moves and she can fall, okay?”
“Good to know.” He reached out and covered Simone’s sure hand with his large one.
She pushed his plate in front of him. It contained a whole sandwich, plus half of hers. “Hope you like bologna.” She gave him a cheeky smile, ready for him to get totally grossed out. He’d probably never even seen bologna up close.
He surprised her and took a big bite of the sandwich. Chewed, swallowed and smiled. “Delicious. The best sandwich I’ve ever had.”
“Really?” Simone couldn’t help but laugh. It felt good. She took a grape and popped it in her mouth.
Sam reached out and touched her shoulder. “I’ve noticed you seem thinner than the last time I saw you. Is that because of the medication?”
She swallowed and nodded. She wasn’t ready to discuss her cancer again. It was what it was.
“I made some calls. Since it’s the holiday it was difficult to get a hold of her, but I finally did, and Dr. Freedman agreed to look at your chart and meet with you on Monday.”