The Right Kind of Crazy (Love, New Orleans Style Book 6) Page 9

  Sami glanced into it. The box was crammed with papers, several batches of envelopes tied with ribbons, and what looked like an old journal. Perhaps the box had been left in her room by mistake. She was in no mood to search through them now. And according to Nathalie they had to vacate the house. “Okay,” she said, giving in to Flynn’s helpfulness. “Thank you. I’m leaving this other one here.”

  “What about the um, the mustard colored thing on the floor?”

  “I’ll have you know that’s a pencil jar, an original piece of pottery. Created by moi.” Sami brushed a hand over her eyes. Original and rejected.

  Balancing the two boxes, Flynn nabbed the pencil holder with his free hand. “Silly me. I thought it was a daisy vase.” He popped it into the box with the papers.

  “I don’t want it,” Sami said, realizing she sounded stubborn. And as childish as she’d been when she’d returned from summer camp with the pride of her creation in her hands.

  “You can sell it on eBay,” Flynn said, heading for the door.

  “Bossy, interfering man,” Sami said to his back.

  Sami sat down on the carpet, leaning her back against the wall where her headboard used to be. She supposed they had sold the bed or perhaps the offer to purchase had come so quickly they were shoving the furnishings into storage, to be sorted later.

  Maybe the abrupt change was for the best. Perhaps the shock would serve the same anesthetic effect as the swift jerk best used to remove a Band-Aid. But tonight she had to go somewhere and it wasn’t going to be to the spot Emile and Nathalie had thought suitable. She could phone her girlfriends, but she didn’t want to show up unexpectedly with her three dogs in tow.

  But she needed her dogs, her four-legged family, especially tonight.

  “I’m back,” Flynn said from the doorway.

  Sami opened her eyes.

  He shook his head, looking like a man who wanted to be anywhere other than where he was. “Look, I hate to say this, but I was asked to tell you they are ready to go and need to lock up so they can deliver the keys. The moving van has gone.” He crossed the room and lowered his lanky body to the floor beside her.

  He sat there, not saying anything else. Sami could have hugged him for his silence. She traced the outline of the roses on the wallpaper, ran her fingers over the old blue carpet, and slowly got to her feet. She left the Barbie doll where it sat in the box and thankfully Flynn didn’t ask about it. He stood, too.

  “Sami, before we go downstairs—“

  “Samantha!” Her name sounded from downstairs, issued by a peremptory female voice.

  “Whatever it is, ask me outside, okay?” Sami hurried out of her old room. She knew from long experience that doing whatever it was Nathalie wanted made life more bearable. And right now, all she longed to do was have the house back the way it was last summer. The lives of Emile and Nathalie revolved around their research, their patients and students and they’d never been known as entertainers. But they had no objections when Sami invited friends and more recently, her friends and their children to use the pool and play in the game room.

  Sami crossed through the formal dining room, bereft of the heavy drapes and empty of its mahogany furniture. She’d hosted her best friend’s baby shower three summers ago and the table had been piled with gifts.

  She walked faster. Her mother called her name again and Sami followed the sound to the front foyer. Nathalie paced, car keys in her right hand, her sensible Coach satchel strung over her left shoulder.

  Emile stood to the side of the broad front door, leaning against the frame. He had one hand in the pocket of his khakis and his other hand held waist high against the ivory wall. Sami noticed his hand trembled. She guessed he used the wall to keep it as still as possible. He seemed old for the first time Sami could recall. Emile smiled at her as she approached. “This abrupt departure cannot be easy for you,” he said. “Thank you for handling it so gracefully.”

  “I cannot accept what seems like an unearned compliment,” she said. She walked to his side and reached out a hand. Carefully, she touched the back of his hand where it lay against the wall. “You have much more to cope with than a move.”

  Nathalie jiggled her keys. “I am pleased that you recognize that. If you had only kept your plans to visit at Christmas, we would have shared Emile’s diagnosis with you. It’s not the sort of thing one drops into a phone conversation.”

  Sami frowned. “I only changed my plans when one of my friends held her wedding in St. Croix and I was her maid of honor. I could scarcely refuse.”

  “It must have been a very last minute decision,” Nathalie said, glancing at her watch.

  “And romantic,” Sami said. “A year earlier they broke off the engagement—but you don’t want to hear about their life.”

  “Not right now,” Emile said. “You continue to exhibit a soft spot in your otherwise reasonable worldview for the illusion that a knight on a white horse will ride into your life and sweep you away to happily-ever-after land.”

  “All my girlfriends are married now,” Sami said. “I do not find it inconceivable that I shall accomplish the same achievement for myself.”

  “A doctorate is an achievement,” Nathalie said. “As is a Nobel Prize. Or a Pulitzer.” She pulled a card out of her scrubs and handed it to Sami. “Here’s our new address. You are welcome to come by any time after this week. We have very heavy schedules and need several days to become settled in our new accommodations. And Emile requires extra rest.”

  Accommodations. Nathalie did not say home or house or condo. Sami glanced at the card, read the name and then terms she’d never once associated with Emile and Nathalie: Independent living. Assisted living. Skilled nursing care. “I don’t understand,” Sami said, glancing from one parent to the other. “How could you need a place like this?” She gestured to the card.

  “We’re thinking long term,” Nathalie said. “And of keeping the drain on Emile’s energy to a minimum. This summer we have decided not to go abroad and in the fall, he will reduce his teaching load.”

  Emile gave a half-smile. “Nathalie is the best patient advocate one could ask for.”

  “You’re a doctor,” Sami said. “Not a patient.”

  “It is normal to protest an unwanted diagnosis,” Nathalie said. “Tonight, however, we need to attend to closing the house and turning over the keys.”

  Flynn had walked up in time to hear Emile chastising her for her happy-ever-after dreams. He’d stood silently, feeling the awkwardness of a stranger caught in the middle of someone else’s family drama. Now he said, “I’ve put Sami’s boxes into her car. So we’re ready to head out.”

  Emile glanced from Flynn to Sami. “We? Do I conclude, Samantha, that you have achieved finding your knight?”

  Sami blushed. She looked as if she could sink through the floor.

  “I answer to friend, sir,” Flynn said, looking the man straight on. How embarrassing for Sami to be subjected to that point-blank question. “Not that I don’t think Sami will make the right man a fine wife. I’m what’s known as a confirmed bachelor.”

  “Ah,” Emile said.

  “I’ll collect the dogs,” Sami said. “Bye, Nathalie, Emile.”

  Flynn watched as the three of them shook hands and for whatever sentimental reason, he was pleased when Emile put his arms around Sami and gave her a brief hug. Then he said good night and followed Sami to the back yard.

  He found her kneeling beside the Labrador, her face buried in Shelby’s neck, her shoulders shaking. Flynn stopped beside her. She didn’t raise her head, so he opted for rounding up the Corgi and the beagle and fastening their leashes on. He glanced around the yard, at the pool gleaming in the lights, and even as he visualized the scene as it must have been on a normal summer’s day, with Sami in a scanty bikini laughing and splashing with her friends, the lights shut off.

  Darkness blotted out his view of Sami. After a few minutes, he made out she’d risen and was fumbling with the leash c
lip for the Lab’s collar. He pulled out his phone, and using the flashlight helped her fasten it. She sniffled and thanked him.

  Other than her quiet thanks, they worked silently as the dogs were tucked into their travel harnesses. Sami had her hand on the driver’s door handle. “Can I give you a lift? Or are you still planning to call a cab?”

  Flynn shook his head and placed his hand over hers on the handle. “Let me drive you,” he said.

  She opened her mouth. He could tell she was about to say something stupid like she was fine and didn’t need any one’s help.

  He leaned close and put a gentle finger against her lips. “Please?”

  Sami gave a sound somewhere between a hiccup and laugh. “Oh, okay.” She started around the car. Flynn followed and opened the passenger door for her. Naturally the Corgi barked.

  Flynn slid behind the wheel and started the car. He looked over at Sami. “Do you know where you’re staying tonight?”

  She shook her head.

  Flynn pulled the car away from the curb. At the end of the block, he turned in the direction of downtown. On his other business trips to Nashville, he’d seen plenty of pampered pooches in the lobby of the downtown Hilton. He liked the hotel, its location and the thoughtful way the staff remembered his favorite suite and made sure to give him the same one every stay. It made traveling so much easier, a bit of home away from home.

  “Where are you heading?” Sami asked.

  “You can stay with me tonight.”

  “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly inconvenience you one nanosecond longer than I already have. And you shouldn’t be driving. It’s not at all like me to have slept so long during the trip here. You suffered that concussion less than twenty-four hours ago.”

  Flynn smiled. He figured if Sami was talking in those convoluted sentences she favored, she had to be feeling more like herself.

  She was tugging her phone out of her bag. “I will locate a pet friendly hotel and book a reservation for one night. In the morning I’ll decide what to do next.”

  “The downtown Hilton is pet friendly,” Flynn said.

  “Is that close to your hotel?” She was skimming through her phone.

  “Yep.”

  “Oh, dear, it’s full.” Sami glanced out the window, then back at her phone. “It’s graduation weekend. Hmm.”

  “I have a two-bedroom suite,” Flynn said. “At the Hilton. We’ll be there in less than ten minutes. After the day—and evening—you’ve had, I think you’d enjoy checking in and not having to worry about where you’re going to lay that pretty head of yours.”

  Sami shot him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. Maybe he should have left the adjective off of “head.” “Two bedrooms,” he said. “You can lock your door. Scout’s honor.”

  She put her phone away. Slowly. “I accept. But only if I pay half.”

  Flynn shrugged. He figured he’d won this round, though why he thought of it in those terms he couldn’t quite say. The night was young. A city full of bright lights and plenty of places for good times was his for the taking. Yet, as things stood now, he was heading for a king-size bed all to himself.

  With a barking Corgi in the next room.

  Darned if he didn’t start whistling.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sami scraped the last bite of the chocolate confection, popped it into her mouth and placed the dish on the room service tray. All three dogs were sleeping happily, no doubt dreaming of the filet mignon Flynn had insisted on ordering for them. Sami sighed and glanced at Flynn, seated opposite her. “Thank you,” she said. She could have added a string of words and phrases to express her appreciation for his support, but the simple two words felt like the right ones.

  Flynn dug his spoon into his untouched mousse and leaned toward her. “Another bite?”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t,” Sami said, eyeing the temptation.

  Flynn shrugged. “Rules and restrictions are so overvalued.” He waved the spoon.

  “Don’t you want it?” Her mouth was watering.

  “It’s for you.”

  Sami scooted closer and opened her mouth.

  “That’s better,” Flynn said, and fed her the mouthful.

  Sami savored the bite. Once it was done, she said, “I know my limits.”

  Flynn gathered the rest of the dishes onto the tray and carried it toward the door.

  With a sigh, she sank against the cushions of the love seat and wiggled her toes. Tomorrow she would call her friends, find a place to stay, and move on. Tonight, though, she was both too tired, and too sad, to operate with her usual analytic determination.

  Flynn joined her on the love seat. Not too close, but then, there wasn’t a lot of space on the small sofa.

  “Are you going out?” Sami asked. “I’m sure this is an early evening for you.”

  “Nope.”

  She was pleased, but curious. “I thought you said there were a lot of hot clubs in Nashville. It sounded like you meant to hit the scene.”

  Flynn shook his head and winced. “A wise doctor told me it’s best to take it easy after a concussion.”

  “It has not been my observation during the brief time in which we have been acquainted that your first instinct is to accept—“

  “Shh,” Flynn said. “Don’t get all ramped up again in your talky voice.” He stretched his legs out and kicked off his shoes.

  “Does it make your head ache to parse my sentences?”

  Flynn smiled. “Maybe just a little.”

  “Oh.” Sami closed her eyes, reflecting. She felt Flynn’s hand brush the back of her neck and settle against her shoulder. It felt good. Too good. She fluttered her lids open. “Do you think that’s why guys don’t go out with me more than once? Because of my speech patterns?”

  He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Sweet Stuff, all I know is that my head hurts. I don’t know about other guys’ pains.”

  Sami glanced toward her dogs, all slumbering like canine angels. “I’m so sorry. That’s our fault.” She shifted toward Flynn. “Maybe I can give you a shoulder massage. That often helps cranial tension. The spinal nerves—“

  Flynn turned his back on her. “I accept your offer. Massage away,” he said.

  “It will be more effective and beneficial if you lie on the floor. Or perhaps we can put the cushions on the floor,” Sami said.

  “We’ve got two beds in this suite,” Flynn said.

  “Oh, no, Mr. Lawrence. You are not getting me into bed. Or anywhere near a bed.” Sami almost drew back from her offer to massage his shoulders. But it had been her dogs that had caused his fall and he’d driven far more hours than he should have, given his concussion. Plus, he’d been a solid, supportive rock during the awful time at her parents’ house.

  “Don’t worry,” Flynn said, pushing away the small table that had held their room service tray and slipping onto the floor in front of Sami. “I’ve no intention of losing that stupid wager you talked me into. Here, spread your legs and I’ll lean back.”

  Sami blushed, but did as he suggested. He nestled against the base of the sofa, his head and shoulders heating her inner thighs. She placed her hands on his trapezius muscles on either side of his neck. “Just relax,” she said.

  He made a funny noise. She shrugged and smoothed her hands over his shoulders. The cotton of his shirt was thick enough to make the sensation ineffective. “If you unbutton your shirt and pull it off your shoulders, you will receive a greater benefit.”

  He made that same noise, but the next thing Sami knew he had his shirt completely off, tossed to the side. The Corgi lifted its head, but seemed to find all in order.

  “Much better,” Sami said, placing her hands on his trap muscles once again.

  “Right as usual, Dr. Pepper,” Flynn said softly, settling against her legs.

  “Close your eyes,” Sami said. “Picture your place of perfect peace. Find that place and hold the image of yourself simply being there.” She kneaded the sides of his neck.


  “You would like my friend Holly,” Flynn said. “She talks just like that.”

  “The animal boarding friend?”

  He nodded.

  “She’s a friend who happens to be a woman?”

  “Yep.”

  “Not a girlfriend?” Sami flashed on Erika asking about her status with Flynn.

  “Not Holly.” Flynn cranked his head around. “Holly’s crazy. It would take a most unusual guy to join forces with her.”

  “Oh,” Sami said. She wondered if her dates thought of her as crazy. If only a percentage of them, well, a statistically significant percentage, had responded to her questionnaire, she might obtain some helpful data.

  “You’re doing it again,” Flynn said.

  “Doing what?”

  “Thinking too hard.”

  “How do you know that?” Sami rolled her shoulders to lessen the tightness.

  “Because you stopped the massage.”

  “Big leap without any input, but yes, I was thinking.” She went back to soothing his neck. “I’ll quit thinking if you find your place of peace.”

  “Right here, right now feels pretty good,” Flynn said. He traced a finger around her ankle. “Mmm, good.”

  “Maybe we should forget the place of peace,” Sami said. “Stick to the technical aspects of massage.”

  “I’ll shut up,” Flynn said. “What you’re doing feels too good to lose it.”

  Sami smiled. She kneaded his right trap, working her way into the latissimus dorsi. Flynn’s skin was fairly pale, which went with his red hair. A swath of freckles dusted his left shoulder. His muscles were taught and defined. She wondered what he did for exercise, but now wasn’t the time to ask.

  Or ever.

  He had taken her in for the evening. This suite was shelter in an emotional storm. Tomorrow she’d fend for herself.

  She sighed.

  Technical aspects. Damn. Those were the last thoughts in Flynn’s brain. Sandwiched between Sami’s thighs while her strong hands worked magic on his neck and shoulders took away his ability to think. “Perfect,” he said.