Santa, Sam's Been Bad Read online

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  Red Rose Publishing

  www.redrosepublishing.com

  Copyright ©2007 by Tigra-Luna LeMar

  First published in 2007-11-29, 2007

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  Santa, Sam's Been Bad

  By

  Tigra-Luna LeMar

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Santa, Sam's Been Bad by Tigra-Luna LeMar

  Red Rose Publishing

  Copyright© 2007 Tigra-Luna LeMar

  ISBN: 978-1-60435-075-3

  ISBN: 1-60435-075-X

  Cover Artist: Rene Rocco

  Editor: Nancy Gail

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws you cannot trade, sell or give any ebooks away.

  Red Rose Publishing

  www.redrosepublishing.com

  Forestport, NY 13338

  Santa, Sam's Been Bad

  By

  Tigra-Luna LeMar

  Chapter One

  Samantha walked around the bed and inspected the sheets. She needed to make sure they were spotless because no one liked sleeping on a dirty bed, especially if someone else had been sleeping in it prior to them. She grinned; owning her own bed and breakfast was not in her cards but when the judge said it was hers she jumped at the chance. Her dream was to work as a photographer while taking care of her kids, while her husband worked. She had never had her own business before, never even thought about it; but had learnt a lot over the years of running it for Mick, her dead-beat ex-husband. Now she owned it with her friend Danielle Henry and business had never been better. Danielle doesn't own it.

  She had learned fast how to do everything, from the books to the cooking—certain things on the menu she could make, others she had just given up on. Hours of watching Martha Stewart and different cooking shows; some shows were not even in English, but she watched and learned. She would practice for hours after Mick Hamilton had stumbled into the house drunk and crawled into bed from his night of cheating. She didn't know it then, or maybe she had a feeling he was cheating but she didn't want to face it that her perfect husband could do something so horrible to her.

  The fire department had shown up to her place at least six times because the neighbors saw smoke pouring out of her kitchen window. Sam got extremely embarrassed when they showed up because it seemed they chose the hottest set of firefighters to come to her rescue. She would then have the task of explaining to them that she was trying to cook something new. After a while, she gave up and hired her own cook, seeing as though she had fired the one that Mick had hired as soon as she found out the B&B belonged to her.

  Smiling, she plumped one pillow, then the next and placed them neatly on the bed. She reached into a pocket on her apron and pulled out two mints. She placed one on each pillow before picking up a basket of warm, clean towels and walked for the bath room.

  "Sam!” a familiar voice called from outside and she stuck her head through the window.

  "Would you stop yelling and come inside?” she waved.

  "Wanted to make sure you were here,” Danielle called and hurried up the front steps into the large Victorian house.

  Soon the beautiful blonde was walking into the room that Samantha had been tidying since the latest occupants had left.

  "What's up?” Samantha asked while inspecting the bathroom one last time before turning out the lights.

  "I placed that ad for you in the newspaper,” Danielle said as she began packing the dirty linens into an empty basket before placing it at the door, “I only hope we get one of them handy men like the one from Oprah!"

  "Man, you watch way too much TV!” Sam laughed and the two grabbed dirty stuff and leave the room closing the door behind them.

  "But a girl can dream."

  "True ... I mean I am looking for love but I want to be practical this time. I don't want the hot man if all he's gonna bring me is drama. I've had enough of that."

  "I hear that."

  The two made their way back into the kitchen but only got saddled with work. Sam moaned and Danielle rolled her eyes but the chef simply laughed and pointed to the door.

  Samantha and Danielle sat together on the front lawn as they shelled fresh peas for the large Sunday dinner they were planning. It would be a lot of work but they were up for it. As for the dishes afterwards, that was why God created the dish washer.

  The two friends had known each other since they were babies. Their parents were friends before and had insisted that the two stuck together. They grew up together and had helped each other through the rough spots that life tossed at them, from pimples on special occasions to messed up relationships.

  Samantha's biggest rough spot was her marriage where as Danielle's biggest spot was learning to walk again after a near fatal car accident. The two cherished life a lot more now and knew that they should not just settle for anything or anyone. Samantha was looking for love again even though her first Prince Charming turned into a frog. Danielle was looking for her first real prince.

  "I remember the first day we started high school,” Danielle giggled and dumped a handful of peas into the bowl. “That was ... different."

  Samantha grinned, “That was terrifying,” she agreed. “But we had an unfair advantage."

  "What was that?"

  "We didn't really have to make friends because we had each other!"

  "Think it messed us up that way? Not having to meet people and all that?"

  Both women stopped their work and looked at each other soberly, “Nah!” they echoed together and laughed.

  "Hey, Thelma and Louise!” Benjamin “Cappy” Rodriguez, their chef, called from the kitchen window. “You wanna hurry it up? This dinner ain't gonna cook itself!"

  The two women looked at him and waved before turning to giggle with each other. They knew how irritable Cappy got when dinner wasn't prepared on time.

  * * * *

  It was late evening and the house was finally asleep. The last of the crickets could still be heard singing outside. Once in a while a vehicle would drive by causing the headlights to bounce off the inside walls and furniture of the Bed and Breakfast.

  The two friends could now kick back and relax with a nice glass of wine. Samantha was not normally a drinker but with the guests that were in the house at the moment, it was either alcohol of murder. She began wondering if she was going to snap and kill someone in the house, which one of the guests it would be.

  There was an old woman in room two who thought young people had no morals and didn't deserve to be set loose on society. She said that they were all little hooligans that would get their ‘come-uppance’ soon enough. Now that Sam was thinking about it, that wasn't irritating at all. It was funny. With her vivid imagination, she could see a gun toting granny, with severe arthritis, bursting into a house to whack all the young people that lived there. She giggled.

  "What?” Danielle asked confused.

  "Nothing,” Sam sipped fr
om her glass.

  Danielle nodded.

  Then there was the newly married couple in number four who argued all the time.

  "Makes you wonder which one is going to kill the other for the insurance money,” Danielle had grumbled at one point as they served their guests dinner.

  It had taken everything in Samantha not to drop the large jug of juice and roll on the floor laughing.

  "You think they should be married?” Samantha broke the silence. “I mean arguing like that is not good for anyone's health ... trust me, I've been there, done that."

  Danielle seemed to be thinking hard, “I don't know,” she responded. “They argue like cats and dogs. Who am I kidding? They argue worse than cats and dogs.” the still night air was interrupted by passion filled sounds coming from above them. “And they make up pretty well too."

  Samantha felt her cheeks grow hot and was happy that she was black. When she blushed it did not show. “Yah I guess. Makes me wonder about the insurance thing though."

  "Yah, me too."

  "Really?"

  "Yah, why didn't you think of it with Mick?"

  "Danielle!"

  "What?” Danielle wanted to know innocently. “I mean think about it. How the hell did you live with that jerk all those years and not even think of pumping him full of lead or dropping arsenic in his tea?"

  "I don't know. I guess when you think you're in love, that causes everything to fog up. You know what I mean?"

  Danielle didn't say anything. She only took a sip from her wine and nodded.

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  The darkness opened giving passage to the truck, and then swallowed up the night again like a glob behind it. The only sounds were the soft engine whirring away along with crickets, the smooth rush of water smashing against rocks, and the occasional bark from a dog. Once in a while something would run across the road, a squirrel or skunk, he didn't care. Rayden liked the silence of the night but he hated what it stood for. The night stood for sleep but each time Rayden closed his eyes, his demons go on the defensive; his demons attacked, and they scared him. His large body trembled to the thought of being afraid and he tried to remember the last time he had truly felt fearful. It made him sad because the only time he remembered being afraid was the night he found out that Rion was gone.

  He was frightened to hope for the best yet thinking the worst broke his heart over and over again. Fear had no place in his life. It shouldn't have. Fear only swallowed him and made him into a paranoid monster that everyone wanted nothing to do with. But that could be a good thing; that meant they would leave him alone with his thoughts but he couldn't stay with them. He couldn't face them everyday knowing that Rion's death was entirely his fault.

  The sound of the ocean running parallel to his vehicle soothed him so he reached down and flipped off the radio that was playing quietly on a soft rock station. He wanted to remember this night as one of the only ones in three years that he had any form of peace, however fleeting he knew it would be.

  He ran a tired hand over his eyes and squinted to clear them. He wanted to stop for the night but he didn't know if he was far away enough yet. After the trial was over, he had wanted nothing to do with Anderson Bay. He had packed only what was needed, and he took off. That was three years ago.

  Running felt wrong to him, but still he couldn't stop. Stopping meant he would have to turn around and face what was chasing him and he didn't think he was strong enough. Stopping meant closure and forgiveness and he wasn't ready for that. He wasn't ready to forget and he would be damned if he was going to forgive.

  A tear trickled down his sun kissed cheek and he brushed the back of a hand against it. He wouldn't cry, he would be strong and he would get even.

  Rayden pulled into what seemed like a tourist attraction parking lot and surveyed the area. From where he parked he could see the water. A few lovers were walking hand in hand on the beach as he climbed out of his truck and climbed onto the hood.

  Rayden felt the urge to tell the men to run for their lives. He ached to tell them that women sucked the life out of you and leave you with nothing. He yearned to tell the men that women dangled bait in front of their faces then when the men fell in love, the women would snatch the bait away. Rayden wanted to yell that women were like black widow spiders, they ate their lovers when they were finished with them.

  Inside, Rayden was screaming for the men to walk away before it was too late, but he didn't say anything. He sat there on the hood of his truck stewing in his own shame, his own pain. He sat on the hood of his truck dying slowly inside.

  He rested his back against the windshield and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. His brown hair blew in the wind as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Rion would have loved the smell of the ocean.

  Chapter Two

  Samantha was cleaning up the dishes from breakfast and Danielle had decided to go into town to get some groceries. It was almost ten in the morning before Samantha had finally gotten into the grove of the day. She had gotten her routine down to an art and things were running smoothly.

  Humming Metallica's Enter Sandman to herself, she was startled when the front door bell rang. Had she forgotten to put up the ‘no vacancy’ sign again? Wiping her hand into her apron, she walked to the front door and pulled it open. The man standing there took her breath away. To her he was a mixture of James Bond and Indiana Jones. Then add a pinch of Shemar Moore, some Viggio Mortessen, and sprinkle with some Brian Littrel. She must have been staring because his mouth seemed to be moving but all she could hear was a buzzing sound inside her head. Shaking herself she smiled.

  "Can I help you?” she finally got out.

  "I hope so,” he smiled slightly. It was a smile that didn't quite make it to his eyes. “I am here about the handy man job in the newspaper."

  "Oh!” she laughed nervously and stepped to one side while extending a hand to him. “Please come on in. I am Samantha Davis. I am the owner of the joint."

  "Rayden Sinclair,” he told her shaking her hand then dropping it as though it was on fire.

  "Well Mr. Sinclair. My partner has gone into town for some groceries and should be back in about one hour, if you'd like to come in.” Closing the door behind them, she led him into the kitchen and motioned to the large table, “Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Juice?"

  Rayden smiled genuinely despite himself and took the seat she offered, “Ah ... Coffee please ... black."

  He was shocked when the door had swung open and this woman introduced herself as the owner. He was told by the teenager in the café in town to ask for Sam so he was expecting a man. He didn't know if he could work for a woman, simply because of his dislike and distrust of them. When she turned and placed a mug in front of him with “World Series Champs 2007: Boston Red Sox” in front of him he had to chuckle.

  "Break it and die,” she threatened idly.

  "I take it you're a Bo Sox fan,” he took a sip from the mug.

  "The biggest,” she grinned, “How about some breakfast?"

  "I'm not even here ten minutes and you're trying to fatten me up."

  "Well, it's in my blood,” she giggled.

  Rayden watched her as she stood there waiting for him to tell her what he wanted to eat for breakfast, even though his mind kept telling him to run. In order to get her from being so close to him, he told her some toast and jam would be sufficient.

  Her skin reminded him of smooth, delicious dark chocolate. He wondered if she tasted as good. Placing the cup down, he rubbed his open palms over his face and rested his elbows on the table.

  "Sam I couldn't find the margarine you...” Danielle barged in the door before stopping in mid-sentence. “Ah Sam ... there's a really hot guy sitting at our table!"

  Sam was so embarrassed. She watched as Rayden stood up to help her friend with the grocery bags, “Dani this is Rayden Sinclair, he's here about the handy man job."

  "God do answer prayers!” Danielle giggled.r />
  "Excuse her, her libido thinks for her,” Sam grinned.

  "That's alright."

  There was something about Sam that spoke to him and that infuriated Rayden. He didn't want anything to do with a woman, plus being intrigued by one this soon after meeting her was never a good sign.

  As they sat down the interview, he kept his eyes on Sam. He loved the way she fidgeted under his gaze because she knew he was staring. He gave Danielle a lop-sided smile as she asked him questions. He answered them with a cool ease that showed his familiarity with the work he was being interviewed for. He didn't really have to think too hard on any of the answers for he had been asked them before, over and over, the last three years.

  Sam felt his eyes on her. She felt heat rising from the soles of her feet. Her heart began to hammer slightly as she tried to look as normal as possible. She shuffled the papers over and over, as well as looked at Danielle but when she had to look at their perspective employee. She looked past him, through him even. She couldn't make eye contact; she didn't want him to see how much of a physical attraction she felt for him. She didn't even want to shake his hand after the interview was over to congratulate him on getting the job; her palms were flooding.

  "Follow Sam and she will show you to your place,” Danielle said as she looked over at her friend.

  Sam gave Danielle a ‘you take him’ look but Danielle only looked back down at the papers in front of her and began signing them. If Sam didn't know better she would have swore that Danielle was smiling.

  "After you,” Rayden's voice dragged her from her pondering and she gave him a small, nervous smile.

  "This way,” she said and began hurrying out of the main house.

  Rayden watched her hips as she walked in front of him. She had begun speaking but he was hypnotized. He liked the way her hips swung rhythmically for side to side. The way her jeans fitted her curves sexily. He liked the way baby blue matched her skin and caused the hot chocolate color to look so cool and touchable.

  Shaking his head he almost crashed into her when she had suddenly stopped in front of a smaller house.