All I Ever Wanted Read online

  After the way this conversation was going, even the mushroom side was looking almost appetizing—especially if it meant getting to eat and not having to talk.

  “You and Alex have something in common,” she said to her father after a few bites of her mushroom slice, clearly trying a new tactic. “You’ve both watched a bunch of the same shows. He likes lots of classic movies and those old TV programs that used to be on in, like, the eighties. Stuff you and Mom have seen.”

  “Really?” Mr. Abbott said. “Which movies?”

  “I’ve watched my fair share.” I played with the crust of my sausage piece for a moment and rattled off a few titles. “I liked Ghostbusters, all the Back to the Future films, the Brat Pack ones—The Breakfast Club and St. Elmo’s Fire—and others like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Risky Business, and Say Anything. The famous ones. Movies millions have seen from that decade.”

  “That decade? Hmm. So, you think of the eighties as what? It’s historical for you? Watching movies made then is like…research?” He asked this with no small degree of challenge in his voice. Dinner was like a minefield of warnings.

  “I’m not about to insult your, um, era, Mr. Abbott,” I said evenly. “Technically, yes, it’s the past, so it’s historical for everyone, not just me. But what interested me about movies made then was that—except for the clothes and the lack of current technology—humans are pretty similar. I’ve watched lots of films from the forties, fifties, sixties, and other time periods too. The historical aspect of it is interesting, and there are differences in dialogue and cultural norms for sure, but the people aren’t that different.”

  “Hmm,” he said again. “Wise words, young man.” And then Samantha’s dad almost smiled at me. Not enough for it to reach his eyes but closer than before. Nearly real.

  Of course, I didn’t tell him or his daughter the reason why I’d gotten so hooked on old movies and television shows. My mom had made sure, no matter how low on cash we were when I was growing up, to always keep the cable bill paid so I could watch TV after school.

  “Safer than bein’ out on the streets where the gangs are,” she’d said.

  So, I’d had free rein of the remote control, especially since she worked two jobs and often came home pretty late. Our discussions at night were about my schoolwork first and then about whichever programs I’d watched when I got home. I kept watching because I loved those nighttime conversations with my mom.

  Mr. Abbott’s cell phone beeped. He’d taken only a few bites out of his first slice, but he wiped a streak of pizza sauce off his fingers and checked his messages. “Text from your mom,” he told Samantha. “She’s wondering where I am. Needs my help at the bakery.” He thumb-typed a message back then stood up. “Gotta go, kids. Enjoy the rest of the pizza. This one’s on me.”

  “Bye, Dad,” Samantha said.

  “Uh, thank you, sir,” I said at the same time.

  He kissed his daughter on the top of her head. “Love you, honey. See you at home soon. And Alex—glad we got to meet.” He flashed another semi-grin at me and then strode toward our waitress to settle the bill.

  Couldn’t help but wonder at his main motivation. It was nice of him, of course, to treat us to dinner, but was his generosity more like an apology for the major parental intrusion on our date? Or was it a way to make sure Samantha wouldn’t feel like she “owed” me anything at the end of the night? Maybe it was both, in addition to one helluva “Be careful with Sami” warning fireballed my way. But his daughter stared after her dad’s retreating form for several long moments, as if she were trying to figure it out his exact message too.

  “Sorry about that,” she murmured. “He can be a little intense.”

  “Yeah, I got that. He really loves you though.”

  She squirmed a bit in her seat. “To the point of near suffocation.”

  “Hey, it’s what some parents do to show they care. But—” I reached for a second slice of pizza. “This isn’t exactly me taking you out for dinner. We got a little, how should I put it? Derailed. So maybe we’ll need to give the dinner date another try sometime.”

  Her blue eyes bored into me with a combination of surprise, gratitude and some emotion I couldn’t figure out. “Alex, after all the fibs I told you in the fall, after my brother nearly punched you out this afternoon, and after my dad horned in on our date and asked you three million rude questions…you still want to go out with me again? What is wrong with you?”

  I laughed. “More things than you probably know, but the fact that I just happen to like you anyway, Samantha Abbott, isn’t one of them.”

  “You’re certifiable,” she said, feigning a shrug, but she looked pleased.

  After we finished our pizza and our sodas, I started to walk her home. It was early still—eight thirtyish—but her father had made it clear he’d expected her back “soon,” and I didn’t want her to get into trouble with him. I sensed I’d already caused enough upheaval in her practically perfect little family life.

  Funny thing was, now that I knew her background and where she’d come from, I could totally see why she’d masked her identity from me in Cincinnati. She might have thought she was doing it because of her own insecurities, but maybe—subconsciously—she’d had a much better reason. The two of us did come from different worlds. And try as she might to find common ground between her dad and me, that relationship would always be an uphill battle.

  Likeliest chance, she’d eventually get sick of having to work so hard at trying to get me to mesh with her family that whatever attraction we might have now would disintegrate. Better not to try to force something that could never be.

  Which was why, even though it was killing me not to kiss her, I stepped back at her front door, instead of leaning in.

  “G’night, Samantha,” I said, my voice so low from wanting to taste her that I could hear it tremble. But I knew this was what needed to happen. That I couldn’t give in to this desire.

  Then she reached out to me. Touching my arm again. Heating up my whole body. Damn.

  “See you tomorrow?” she asked, leaning toward me in exactly the way I was trying to avoid.

  I pulled myself back some more but still managed to nod. “Yeah. I hope you’ll come to the show.”

  “Oh, I’ll be there,” she replied, but there was a shadow of confusion in her eyes, and I didn’t blame her for reading mixed signals from me. I’d made a point of asking her out again and I’d openly admitted to liking her, but I wasn’t sealing the deal now, not when it mattered.

  “Great!” I said brightly and slid even farther away. “Until then.”

  Even after I’d made it halfway down the sidewalk, heading toward the spot near the square where I’d parked my car, I could still see her standing by her parents’ front door, watching me walk away. That image did something to my heart that made it ache.

  When I got back to the B&B, I took stock of the thoughts and mental snapshots I’d accumulated throughout the day. The people I’d met. The expressions on their faces. The meaning behind their words. And Samantha Abbott. The many sides of her.

  Then I picked up my guitar and dug through my bag for the half-written song I couldn’t finish composing before.

  I knew I could finish it now.

  Sami

  I’d dreamed about Alex all night and woke up sweating.

  In my mind, we’d been back at his hotel room—in that king-sized bed—getting even closer than before. And even warmer than before. I got so hot I had to pull my shirt off. I remembered the ease with which Alex released the clasp of my bra and tugged it off my body. The way he tossed it across the room and away from us. The way his hands caressed me everywhere, his fingers making a trail of heat down my belly, across my hips, back and forth along my back, on my thighs moving higher and higher…

  I could almost feel his lips on mine again, kissing me first on the mouth and then wetting each of my nipples with his tongue. Suckling until I arched up into him, wanting him more than I wan
ted air in my lungs or blood in my arteries.

  We were entwined together, passions mingling, bodies connecting, when there was a knock on the hotel-room door. And my parents barged in. Which suddenly made my dream seem much more like a nightmare.

  I sat up in bed, half naked and glistening with sweat. My nightgown was a foot away on the carpet, tossed there in a heap of fabric. I didn’t remember taking it off for real. But I also knew why I’d awakened to knocking. It wasn’t on the hotel room door, but my bedroom one.

  “Sami,” my mom said, insistent. “Are you awake?”

  “Yeah,” I said, snatching for the covers and wrapping myself with them in case she poked her head in.

  She poked her head in. “Good! Well, don’t forget to bring over that tray of mini croissants with the cheese filling for the Pancake Breakfast. It’s in the refrigerator at the bakery.”

  “When?” I croaked.

  “Oh, you’ve got at least twenty minutes,” Mom said blithely. “The volunteers are counting on having all of the side dishes no later than eight forty so they can get everything set up. I can’t take the tray over because I need to go make some fresh apple strudel for today’s customers. And a few extra platters for the ice skating refreshments table at Mirror Lake tomorrow. It goes so well with coffee and cocoa.”

  “Yeah,” I said. And it did. Mom’s strudel was mouth-meltingly good. But that wasn’t what I was hungry for this morning.

  She pulled out of my room and shut the door. I immediately collapsed onto my pillow, wishing I could slip back into that steamy dream. Probably the closest I’d ever get to Alex again after Dad’s interference last night. Given the way Alex had kept his distance from me once we’d finished dinner and walked to the house, I could only imagine how he was counting down the seconds (on his very accurate wristwatch), biding his time until he could finally leave town.

  “Don’t be late,” my mom said, her feet already clomping halfway down the stairs.

  I groaned, but I got dressed anyway.

  When I got to the Village Hall cafeteria, where the Pancake Breakfast was being set up, I saw a line of townspeople already forming near the front door and a slew of busy volunteers inside. Nowhere, however, did I see Alex.

  Part of me was fighting the irrational fear that he’d skipped out of Abbott Springs and was already heading back north to his apartment in Cleveland. Another part of me was crazy-worried I wouldn’t be able to control myself if he’d stayed and I got to see him again. That I’d blush the minute we crossed paths, just remembering him in my dream.

  I wondered what he did last night after he dropped me off at home. What he thought of me—and my intrusive family. If he’d spent even a half hour thinking about me during the night the way I’d been thinking about him.

  When I entered, I noticed there was some police tape by one of the interior murals. What was that was about? Some kind of vandalism, I gathered, but I didn’t get a good look because of the swarm of volunteers and the general chaos.

  In the distance, I could see my brother in the mix of Saturday morning revelers, chatting with Kennedy Hale, the mayor’s son. I also saw Maya scurrying around, setting up plates, cups, and plasticware prior to the horde of pancake eaters rushing in. I doubt she saw me, though, what with all of the commotion. I only hoped Oliver was finally being more attentive to her. That the two of them would bring some much needed sunshine to each other’s lives.

  I dropped off the mini croissants and slipped out the door as fast as I’d come in. This afternoon, I’d give Maya a call to check in on how Operation Oliver was going. I had my fingers crossed that things were looking up for her in the relationship department. But before I could contact her, she called me first—only a few hours later when I was at the bakery with my parents and brother.

  “Sami, I need help,” Maya moaned, her voice soft but panicked. “My big plan isn’t going well, and…I don’t know what to do.”

  “Hey, it’s okay,” I told her right as Oliver dropped an empty metal tray and it hit the bakery floor with a clatter. “Dammit,” I heard him mutter. He’d been a major klutz all morning, which was unusual for him.

  I cupped my hand over my cell phone and walked away from the kitchen. “Sorry,” I whispered to Maya. “Oliver’s being annoying today.”

  “I don’t think my plan is working so far,” she blurted.

  Well, that would be because Oliver was, most likely, still being a bonehead. But I didn’t tell her this.

  “We just need to throw you guys together more,” I said decisively.

  “That’s what I was thinking too. Except I’m going to be stuck in the bakery for most of the afternoon.”

  “Why? When does your shift start?”

  “Three thirty. But Oliver won’t be there then. He’s getting your family’s float ready for the Winterfest parade at four, which I’m gonna have to miss seeing this year.” She actually sounded disappointed about that.

  God! What I would give not to have to ride on that stupid Abbott Cupcake Float for one year…

  Ohhh, wait a minute!

  “Maya, I’ll work your shift. Go to the parade.”

  “What? But I can’t skip out of work at the bakery! And you can’t stay there! You have to be on the float with—”

  “It has been my fantasy to have a good reason not to get on that damn float, even for just one Winterfest in my life. I would pay money not to have to be the Cupcake Princess. And wear that itchy costume. And toss out rock-hard candy to kids for an hour in the freezing cold. I don’t want to do it,” I told her. “And you’ve just given me an excellent reason not to.”

  “But your parents. And your brother. They’re counting on you, Sami. You’ve always been the Cupcake Princess. If you don’t go today, there won’t be one.”

  “Sure there will,” I said, waiting for Maya to understand what I was telling her to do. Did she need for me to spell it out? I stood in the bakery’s back hallway, grinning.

  There was a stunned moment of silence on the line. “Sami,” she hissed, “I cannot be the Cupcake Princess.”

  “Oh, yes, you can, girlfriend. The costume, in all its kitschy glory, is hanging in the living room as we speak, just waiting for you to slip it on. Please,” I pleaded. “You will be making a dream of mine come true. And my dopey brother will have no choice but to pay attention to you. He is, after all, the one and only Cupcake Prince.”

  I heard Maya laughing—well, more like giggling on the verge of hysterics. “You know that seeing Oliver in his costume was always my favorite part of the whole parade.”

  If that wasn’t love…

  “Yeah, I do know,” I said. “So, you’ll do it?”

  “Well, um, I guess if you really don’t want to do it yourself and—”

  “I don’t!”

  There was some clamoring by the door, and I saw a big family starting to troop in. It was going to be very noisy in here in about ten seconds.

  “Hey, look, Maya, we’ve got a bunch of customers. I’ve gotta go.”

  “But you didn’t tell me about that hot dark-haired guy with the leather jacket!” she cried. “Alex of the smirky lips and the multiple loop earrings. You promised.”

  I squirmed, glad my friend couldn’t see me. “It’s, um, complicated,” I managed.

  “Sami. A rocker guy shows up from out of town, calling you Amanda, practically inciting a riot at your family’s Bake Sale booth the second your brother takes one look at him… Of course it’s complicated. Start explaining!”

  But the family who came into the bakery was getting restless, and I needed to help serve them. Plus, how was it possible to explain the multifaceted complexity of Alexander Hamilton to anyone when I couldn’t even understand it myself? When he’d acted as though he kind of liked me in spite of all of our differences, yet stayed so far away from me physically that I was sure he’d never touch me again?

  “You know you’re the only person in Abbott Springs I truly confide in, right?” I said to her.r />
  “Yeah. So?”

  “So, when I’m able to make any sense at all out of my not-quite-relationship with Alex, I’ll tell you. I will. But for now, it’s as much of a mystery to me as it is to anybody else.”

  And because Maya was such a good friend and such a kindhearted person, she let me off the hook. I only hoped she’d soon have her hands full. That she’d be doing so many fun things with my brother she’d be forced to pull her focus off of me and put it on a relationship of her own.

  A relationship—unlike mine with Alex—that might actually have a prayer of going somewhere beyond a one-night stand.

  The next few hours disappeared into a whirlwind of bakery activity. There was much excitement downtown over the Ice Sculpting Competition, but I’d had enough of being out in the cold, and from the steady stream of customers we had ordering cups of my Mexican Hot Chocolate or the house coffee, the Winterfest revelers were freezing their little fingers off too.

  Dad and Oliver left the bakery by three p.m. to work on getting the Cupcake Float ready for the big parade. It wasn’t until after they were gone that I confessed to Mom I’d switched places with Maya and she’d be joining the family as the Cupcake Princess this year instead.

  Mom paused in the middle of slicing apple strudel to stare at me. “What? You’re not going to be on the float?”

  I shook my head. “I think it would be really nice if Maya got to experience it this time. Her parents are both away this weekend, and well, she and Oliver should, uh, maybe talk a little more.”

  “Talk more?” Mom said with a laugh. “That darling girl has spent hours with your brother, almost every day since you’ve been away at—”

  She stopped abruptly. Put down her slicing knife. Squinted off into the distance. Her face started to drain of color.

  “Hey, Mom, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  “There isn’t a chance that—I mean, I know Maya has had a crush on Oliver for a while, but I didn’t think he’d—I mean, she’s not… They wouldn’t have…um…done something so she might be pregnant or anything, right?”