Goddess Rising Page 19
Was it only a few hours ago that Sam had dreaded him watching her at the firing range? Was it only this afternoon that their eyes had locked when Sasser had announced her the winner of the rifle marksmanship trials?
“How does it feel?” he’d asked her at the rifle range.
“How does what feel?”
Wes’s eyes had glowed with admiration in the midafternoon sun. “To hand these doubting Thomases their asses?”
In that moment, Sam’d allowed herself to really like him again. Because Wes seemed to get how she felt—the vindication and the victory. She would never admit it to anyone if pressed, but she was glad he’d been there. Glad he could see her win at something that meant so much to her.
As if Wes had read her mind, he wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders as they watched the team huddle on the field. “Your performance today was a thing of beauty,” he told her, squeezing her gently into his side.
“Only a Texan would say that about sharpshooting,” Sam joked, though she flushed with pride under the bright white stadium lights.
“I want to hang that target sheet up,” he admitted.
“As what?” she asked. “A reminder not to cross me?”
Wes grinned down at her. “Nah, I already knew that.” He squeezed her shoulder again. “I want to keep it so I can say I knew the first female Ranger.”
Her heart swelled and she shivered.
“You cold?” he asked.
“A little,” she lied. The fall air was starting to cool to a crisp finish, but if Sam was honest, she liked where she was, tucked under Wes’s arm like she belonged there.
Sam had to remind herself it was just an illusion—that Wes was a natural-born flirt and she was just one of the many girls he’d taken to chasing, but it felt good nonetheless. She was already riding high from her day, so she allowed herself to pretend for a moment that she wasn’t just another girl, and he wasn’t just a shameless player using her to get a good story.
The Aggies lost 41 to 42 that night. It was a close, exhilarating game with a near comeback that just missed the victory mark in the last, long seconds as the clock ran out.
As she and Wes stood side-by-side, waiting for Chris to come out to meet them, Sam watched the rest of the press filter out of the stadium after they finished interviews and took final photos and video footage.
“Where’s Miranda?” she asked him, looking for her bright red hair in the crowd.
“Guess the warden was feeling generous,” Wes answered casually. “She landed a couple interviews over at Polunsky with some guys on death row.”
“I hope she’s got some shatterproof glass between her and them,” Sam remarked. “Most of those guys probably haven’t seen a woman in years.”
“Much less a red-headed vixen,” Wes agreed amiably.
Sam peered at him. “Have you been seeing each other long?”
He lifted a brow. “We’re not together, and you know it, Sam. We’re just friendly.”
She recalled Miranda’s expression the day she’d warned her off of Wes in the quad over coffees. She had never explicitly said it, but Sam suspected there was more to their “friendship” than either was letting on.
“Friendly enough to bump uglies?” she asked, only half-teasing.
Wes chuckled, his teeth flashing. “You got a smart mouth.”
“Well, I’m a smart girl.”
“That you are.” Wes leaned against the wall, considering her. “Which begs the question: Why are you dating the wrong guy?”
“Because I’m also smart enough to know better,” she replied, shooting him a wry smile.
“Apparently not,” Wes drawled. “Or you wouldn’t be dating Chris when you know you’d rather be seeing me.”
Sam sucked in a tight breath. “You’re a cocky SOB. You know that?”
“That may be true, but we both know I’m right.” Wes stepped forward, crowding her. “You just haven’t acknowledged it yet.”
Sam pulled back an inch, eyes narrowing. “What I acknowledge is that you’re using me to get ahead with your career ambitions.”
“Hey, you’re the one who called me a slacker,” he reminded her.
“I’m sure you’ve been called worse.”
“Well, this is me rectifying that.” Wes crossed his arms, leaning casually against the wall beside her. “You don’t get to have your cake and eat it too, darlin’.”
“Oh—but you do?” she taunted. “You get the story and the girl. That’s your game, right, Wes?”
“Why the hell do you keep insisting I’m running game on you?” He pushed his hair back, pegging her with an exasperated look. “What the heck does a guy have to do to show you he’s serious?”
“Wes, the only thing you’re serious about is getting laid and getting known.” Sam cocked her head. “You get a two-fer with me, don’t you? Why can’t you just admit that’s all you’re interested in?”
“That’s not how I see it,” he argued. “I’m telling the story of a girl I admire. One who I think’ll go far—maybe even break barriers.” Wes leaned forward. “And I happen to really like her too. How is this not a win-win?”
“Who’s it a win-win for besides you?” she argued.
“Oh, Lord—are you two at it again?” Chris called out, exiting the locker room with a group of players. “Swear to God, every time I turn around, you two have your tails up.”
“You drop this story on me, and I’ll be sweet as pie,” Sam offered, eyes on Wes.
“Oh, please.” Wes shook his head. “What the hell would you do if you weren’t so busy always busting my balls?”
Sam’s mouth dropped open as Chris guffawed.
“He may have you there, sweetheart,” Chris told her, throwing a heavy arm around her shoulders. “I think you like busting his, er, chops.” Chris glanced back at Wes as they headed towards the parking lot. “Hell, I reckon he likes it too.”
“I’m sorry you lost, but you played a good game,” Sam offered as she fell into step beside him.
Chris shrugged. “Win some, lose some. Though I hate that it was so close like that. I could almost taste that ‘W.’”
“How about you taste some Chinese?” Wes offered. “That usually cheers you right up.”
“True that,” Chris agreed. “Chef Cao’s gonna rue the all-you-can-eat buffet offer by the time I’m done with it.”
*
September—Saturday Night
Chef Cao’s, Bryan, Texas
S A M A N T H A
Samantha watched in shocked and slightly horrified amazement as Chris made good on his promise. They occupied a glass-paneled booth at the back of the restaurant, and he must have made at least four trips to the buffet before leaning back and patting his belly.
“How you feeling?” she asked, a little relieved that the general populace surrounding them couldn’t see the carnage of sesame chicken, moo shu pork, and the three bowls of various flavors of ice cream Chris had demolished on his last go-round.
He sighed happily. “You two sure know how to cheer a guy up.”
“Figured an all-you-can-eat Chinese extravaganza would set the world right again,” Wes told him with a smile. “It was a good game.”
“Good ain’t great,” Chris replied, sipping his tea. “And no one said it, but we were all kinda worried Ole Miss would slaughter us out there tonight.”
“Ole Miss has got the best offense in college ball right now,” Wes agreed, popping a piece of honey chicken into his mouth.
“Against the best defense—” Sam added, kicking him under the table.
Wes bit back a yelp, glaring at her.
Chris chuckled, shaking his head at Wes’s gaff and Sam’s sharp response. “I swear to God, you two are like two cats in a bathtub. Don’t know if you’re coming or going.”
“I know which I’d rather be doing,” Wes replied.
“Here.” Sam pushed the rest of the honey chicken toward him. “Keep your mouth busy with that.”
Chris took a sip of his drink, settling back in the booth. “You never told me how your rifle marksmanship challenge went. How’d it go?”
Sam shrugged, sipping her tea. “Went fine.”
“Fine?” Wes looked at her like she was crazy. “Sam annihilated everyone. It was a thing of beauty.”
Chris broke into a wide smile. “Way to go, Sammy!”
Sam shrugged again, feeling a little embarrassed. “Missed the first shot by about a mile. Did all right after that.”
“You should have seen the rifle she was using,” Wes told Chris as he continued to eat. “The damn thing was nearly as big as her.”
“.50 cal?” Chris asked.
Sam nodded.
“Sheee-it,” he drawled with a thick twang. “You’re some kind of girl, Sammy. Don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”
“I was raised by a bunch of guys who were all ex-military or cowboys,” she pointed out. “What’d you expect to come out of that scenario? A Barbie-doll-toting cheerleader?”
“Sam?”
They all looked up.
Rita stood next to Alejandro, both of them dressed up like they were going to church in their Sunday best, Rita in a dress and Alejandro in khakis and a button-down. A plump, middle-aged woman with a kind face and a sulky-looking teenage girl stood near them.
“Rita!” Sam said, scooting out of the booth to give her friend a quick hug. “Didn’t know you were here.”
“We just finished, actually,” Rita explained, taking in Chris and Wes as they stood up behind her. “And who are your chulo9 friends?” she asked with a sly smile.
“Rita!” Alejandro snapped, looking pissed off. “Let’s go.”
Rita just ignored him, turning instead to introduce the people she was standing with. “Sam, meet my Auntie Lupe, and this is my little coz, Roxy,” she said fondly, ruffling the girl’s hair. “They’re Alejo’s family from Chicago I was telling you about.”
The girl jerked away, irritated, looking at them out of the corner of her eyes. She looked like a real hood rat already, though she was probably only thirteen or fourteen, wearing heavy makeup, lip liner, and large gold earrings. She had on a boxy plaid button-up with a giant chip on her shoulder, trying to come across all hard.
Sam shook hands with Alejandro’s mother, studiously ignoring his white-hot glare as she gave Lupe her best smile. “I’m Sam Wyatt, ma’am. Pleased to meet you.”
“Auntie, Sam is with us in the ROTC,” Rita explained. “She’s doing the Ranger Challenge next month with Alejo.”
“No, she’s not,” Alejandro argued, breaking his stony silence. “That hasn’t been decided.”
Rita rolled her eyes. “Man, you’re loco if you think she hasn’t made it already after today’s performance at the range.”
“You’re the girl Rita’s been telling us about?” Auntie Lupe asked with a broad smile. “She said you beat all the boys today. Even our Alejo.”
Sam colored, though she felt a spike of pleasure at Alejandro’s wince.
Eat your heart out.
“I’m Wes Elliott, and this is Chris Fields,” Wes introduced. “Great job at the pistol range today,” he said to Rita. “You’re a natural.”
“Why, thank you,” Rita said with a toothy smile. “See, Auntie? All that banging came to good use,” she joked, nudging her Aunt playfully as the older woman slapped her arm, sending her a chastising look.
“You’re a football player, right? I’m sorry to hear you guys lost, man,” Alejandro said with a short nod to Chris. “I heard it was a great game though.”
“Thanks,” Chris acknowledged. “I thought I’d drown my sorrows in Chinese food,” he joked. “You folks in town for long?” he asked, gesturing at Lupe and Roxy.
“Just the weekend,” Auntie Lupe explained. “We wanted to see Alejo for the Ranger Challenge in October, but my mother’s sick in Mexico, so we’re driving down to see her. Thought we’d stop here first.”
“Good call,” Chris agreed. “Besides, this year there’ll be full coverage of the Challenge by Wes here. I’m sure you’ll get to see a lot of great photos from the event.”
Wes put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure I get plenty of photos of Sam, Rita, and Alejandro,” he added genially, though Sam saw Alejandro’s eyes narrow on him.
“You guys have a great night,” Rita murmured, glancing between her and Wes and Chris, a coy little smile curving her mouth. Sam knew right then and there she’d never hear the end of this little run-in. “Auntie Lupe—let’s get you back to the inn. I know you guys have an early drive tomorrow.”
“Nice meeting you.”
Alejandro was the first out, holding the door open for his mother and sister. Funny to see him act like a gentleman, a good son and a big brother when all Sam had witnessed prior to this point was him being a jerk and an asshole.
Rita smiled at Wes and Chris before saying, “Nice meeting you two. Let’s all hang out sometime—compare notes on Sam!” She winked conspiratorially before disappearing out the front door.
“Oh, brother,” Sam groaned as they sat back down.
“Is she your roommate or something?” Chris asked.
“Worse,” Sam replied. “She’s my best friend.”
Chapter 16
September—Saturday, Late Night
Wes and Chris’s Apartment, Texas A&M
W E S L E Y
It had been one helluva long day. He could count on one hand the number of times in his life he’d intentionally been awake at 5:00 a.m., and not just because he’d stayed out partying the whole night before. Two of those times had been for ROTC training exercises, and as Wes looked over at Samantha, her head lolling on his sofa, he thought all over again about how damn impressive this girl was.
She worked her ass off, and even though she must be as dead tired as he was, if not more so, she played the good sport when Chris asked her over to watch a movie with them after dinner, insisting he’d just be depressed otherwise. Wes could see she was trying hard to stay awake. But when his eyes dropped to Chris, asleep on her lap, he smirked. Chris was already far gone and dead to the world.
“He’s passed out, you know,” Wes told her, gesturing toward Chris.
Sam glanced down at him, realizing he was out cold, mouth open, drooling a little on her jeans.
“Good grief.” She rolled her eyes. “We just started The Fifth Element. He went on and on about wanting to watch it.”
“If he can’t stay up to watch Milla Jovovich wearing a bandage for an outfit, he’s down for the count, darlin’,” Wes pointed out with a soft chuckle, his thoughts meandering toward what Sam might look like in that ridiculously skimpy outfit. “Besides, the guy’s been out on that field pushing men around the size of ox. Can’t blame the poor bastard for being wiped out.”
A wide yawn escaped her. Sam shot him a rueful glance before gently lifting Chris’s head from her lap, sliding quickly out from under his big frame. She replaced her lap with a throw pillow as Chris grunted and shifted, not waking as he turned his back to them on the sofa.
“I’m gonna head home,” Sam told Wes, stretching her arms over her head, the smooth skin of her belly showing where her shirt rode up. “I’m ready to pass out myself.”
“It’s late,” Wes commented, wishing he could convince her to stay in his bed again—except this time, with him in it. But as he stood and got a good look at her face, he saw the tired in her eyes. “I’ll take you back.”
“I can walk—it’s fine,” Sam replied, letting out another big yawn as she shrugged into her jacket.
“It’s after midnight, Sammy,” Wes said with a frown. “No way am I letting you walk home alone.”
She tossed him an amused look as she pulled her hair from the collar. “You know I can handle myself.”
“Maybe I’m trying to save the poor drunken asshole who
tries to give you a hard time from getting his face kicked in,” Wes pointed out smoothly. He knew Sam didn’t need the hand-holding, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give it to her.
“Well, aren’t you kind?” she drawled with a smile as she opened the door.
“Never been accused of that before,” he replied, following her out.
It was a clear night. Stars spread out across the vast, velvet sky, shimmering and winking like loose diamonds. The breeze brought a heady tendril of Sam’s scent across his nose, and Wes stepped closer to her as they walked toward his building’s parking lot. Damn, he was in trouble when just the scent of a woman could turn him sideways.
“You mind motorcycles?” he asked, pushing his hand into his pocket for his keys.
Sam grinned over her shoulder at him. “I love motorcycles.”
“No kidding?” Wes smiled in response. “You got one?”
“A 1965 Twin Bonneville Triumph.”
Wes whistled. “Hot damn. You really are rich.”
Sam laughed softly. “Would you believe me if I told you I won it off my dad in a poker game? It was his first bike.”
“He must adore you something awful to let you cheat him out of his first love like that,” he teased.
“My mother was his first love, and if he wanted to keep that bike, he shouldn’t have taught me how to play,” she replied smoothly as they stepped toward his Harley. Now it was Sam’s turn to let out a long, low whistle. “She’s a thing of beauty,” she admired, running her fingers along the body.
“I think so too,” Wes replied, handing her his helmet.
“The custom job is damn good,” she observed, leaning closer to get a better look in the dim light of the lot.
“Friend of mine has a shop. Makes his own choppers,” Wes explained as he slid onto the bike. Sam slipped on behind him in a smooth, practiced move, and Wes grinned unabashedly as he felt her thighs close around his hips.
He started the motorcycle, the throaty rumble answering him as he felt Sam’s arms slide around his middle. Before he released the clutch, he glanced back at her. “You up for a little ride?”
Wes half expected her to say no, but Sam looked up at the night sky, her expression briefly wistful. “Why the hell not?” she replied on a sigh, like she couldn’t imagine anything she’d like better. Wes’s heart warmed.