Sam grunted, a small noise of understanding. ‘I know what you mean. I came rushing back here when Dad got ill, and once it became clear his recovery would be limited, I let myself start to dream I could maybe make a future here. But he’s not ready to let go and as selfish as it might sound, I’m not sure how much longer I can put my life on hold.’
Her heart ached at the raw pain in his voice. ‘I don’t think you’re being selfish, at all. Is your dad’s condition permanent then?’ She remembered the many tearful conversations she’d had with Eliza when Paul had first fallen ill.
‘It’s manageable, if he follows the doctor’s orders.’ Clearly, that was a big if. ‘His lungs are shot to pieces, so he won’t ever get his fitness back to the level needed to run the pub. It’s a really physical job.’
‘You guys have been butting heads, I take it?’
He snorted. ‘Like a pair of prize rams at the country fair.’ Sam scrubbed at the tangle of curls on his forehead. ‘I just wanted to try something a bit different, keep my eye in, but he was having none of it.’
Beth listened as he told her about his idea for a gourmet night and his dad’s negative response. It was tough enough for her to make changes to the emporium with Eleanor gone. Trying to do it with Eleanor peering over her shoulder would be close to impossible. No wonder Sam was frustrated. And as for his dad…Paul had always been this vital presence when they’d been growing up—a big bear of a man whose booming laugh had seemed to fill the whole beach as he’d tossed them into the sea with endless patience for their cries of ‘Again, again!’
She stood up and opened the tumble dryer. Scooping out the tangle of warm clothing, she began to smooth and fold the material as she ordered her thoughts. ‘It must be really hard for him.’ When Sam frowned, she held up her hand. ‘Let me finish. Your dad’s always been a hands-on guy, the one everyone relied upon to fix things.’ He’d moulded his son in the same vein. ‘Having to sit back and watch you doing all the things he feels he should be able to do must be killing him. And then to have you making changes on top of that…’
Sam stood up so fast the legs of his chair scraped on the tiled floor. ‘So what? I’m supposed to just fill in for him. Keep everything exactly the way it’s always been? I’m suffocating!’
Hurrying over, she placed a hand on the thick towelling covering his heart. ‘No! No, Sam, that’s not what I’m saying, not at all.’ She stroked the front of the dressing gown, trying to soothe his raw feelings. ‘Maybe you can find a way to do what you want to without changing the essence of what The Siren is.’
His shoulders slumped. ‘I don’t see how that’s possible.’
Neither did she. Returning to the laundry, she finished folding their clothes as she racked her brain for a solution. She pictured the pub in her mind’s eye—the familiar layout of the main bar, the sprawl of rooms above that were a mixture of family rooms and guest accommodation, the old skittle alley where she, Eliza and Libby had played when bad weather kept them confined indoors. The wooden floor had been perfect for bouncing a ball, or skipping on. Eliza’s parents hadn’t minded them scuffing up the place, it hadn’t been used for years. Oh. ‘What about the skittle alley?’
‘What about it?’ Frowning, he settled back into his chair and stared up at her.
Trying to contain the bubble of excitement growing in her belly, she clutched the pile of clothing in her arms against her chest and grinned. ‘You could turn it into a restaurant. I can just see it! Those wooden floors resealed and buffed to a high shine; a smattering of tables for two with crisp white tablecloths. You could even use the old scoreboard to display the menu.’
His frown shifted into something more thoughtful. ‘It’s not very big.’
‘That’s the point! You could make it something really exclusive, a proper dining experience for discerning customers. Somewhere people go for special occasions. You’d still be on hand to help your folks with the heavy stuff, but you’d have your own baby too.’
His chair skidded back again, and Beth found herself wrapped in a bear hug. ‘That’s bloody brilliant!’ Sam pulled back to look down at her, his blue eyes sparkling. ‘You’re bloody brilliant!’ He smacked a kiss on her lips. The look in his eyes softened, warmed and his head lowered towards hers again.
Time seemed to slow down, as she watched the thick lashes framing his eyes sweep closed, felt the tickle of his exhaled breath tease over her skin and then, finally, the brushed of his lips over hers. Stunned, she waited to see what he’d do next. Waited for him to realise his mistake, to remember who she was—his sister’s best friend.
When she didn’t pull back, he seemed to take her quiescence as permission to kiss her again. A firmer contact which he stepped into and she tilted her head unconsciously to give him better access. Apparently satisfied with the angle, he settled in, fluttering tiny kisses at the corners of her mouth, teasing her lower lip with just the tip of his tongue, withdrawing every time she tried to chase the contact.
A corner of her mind urged her to stop, that there were a million reasons she shouldn’t be letting Sam kiss her, but those objections were cancelled out by the warmth spreading through her, turning her veins to honey, curling her toes and scrambling her brains with the sheer rightness of his lips on hers.
The years fell away, and she was back on the promenade, the wind whipping her hair around her face, giddy from the fresh air and the warm promise of Samuel Barnes stealing the air from her lungs. Letting the bundle of clothes drop to the floor, she wriggled her arms free from between them and threw them around his neck, her fingers diving into the thick, unruly hair at his nape.
A soft groan escaped his throat and he tugged her closer until their bodies were pressed together from shoulder to knee. His hand slid from her back to gather the thick length of her ponytail as he tilted her back, the press of his mouth turning from a request to a demand. She couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything other than whisper his name as she opened for him and his tongue swept in. Her own grip shifted down to his shoulders and she clung to the broad strength in them, her knees threatening to give way.
Breaking for air, Sam’s hot breath ghosted against her cheek. His lips followed, tracing a path to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, sending goose bumps shivering over her skin. ‘Beth?’ The way he said her name was a caress in itself.
‘Yes.’ She didn’t care what he was asking, couldn’t think beyond the racing of her heart, the pulse of need echoing in lower parts of her body.
‘Beth?’ The husky note of seduction was gone, replaced by something closer to disbelief. No, no, no, no, no. His hands released her hair, her hip and the entire front of her body felt a sudden chill as he stepped away. ‘Oh hell, Beth, I’m sorry.’
He looked so shocked, she had to laugh even as she battled against a wave of disappointment and the tingling aftermath of the best kiss of her life. ‘It’s not as though you took advantage of me, Sam. I was right there with you.’
A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. ‘Yeah, you sure were.’
Heat flooded through her at the appreciation in his tone, but he was already turning away from her as he adjusted the belt knotted around the waist of the bathrobe. Spotting his clothes in a heap on the floor, she swept them up and offered them to him when he glanced back at her.
He stretched his arm out to take them, as though he didn’t trust himself to get too close to her again. ‘I…I should probably get dressed.’
‘Okay.’ She spent the time whilst he was in the bathroom giving herself a pep talk. Yes, it had been an amazing kiss, but getting involved with Sam was a singularly bad idea. The emporium needed all of her focus, and if he decided