Compromising Positions (14 page)

Sarah hopped down from the counter and gave Amelia a quick hug. “Thanks,” she murmured.

“No problem.”

She watched Sarah hurry out of the kitchen before turning back to the last few dishes in the sink. Maybe she hadn't completely ended things with Edward to give herself a safety net. As insurance in case everything else in her life fell apart, she'd have at least one person who'd still love her.

She'd thought herself so brave to walk away from her family and make a new life for herself. But in truth, there were a few strings she hadn't snipped.

Was she in love with Sam? It felt as if he'd invaded her heart and her soul, and she could no longer tell where she ended and he began. He could pull her into his arms and they'd fit, perfectly, as if they'd been made especially for each other.

And yet there was something holding her back, keeping her from admitting exactly what it was that frightened her about him. She'd always suspected that honesty was the most important quality in a relationship. She had to do exactly as she'd urged Sarah to do: trust her heart and tell him how she felt.

She put the last dish in the drainer and wiped her hands on a towel.

“What are you doing, Amelia?”

She spun around to find Sam standing in the kitchen doorway, his shoulder braced against the doorjamb. “Just finishing up for Sarah.”

The tension that had followed them around since their encounter in the snow was still there, invisible yet palpable. He didn't seem angry, Amelia mused. Just... Her gaze scanned his features, searching for a clue.

She cleared her throat. “I was thinking, if the roads are clear, I'll leave on Monday. I'm a little worried about hauling that trailer if there's ice.”

He shook his head. “You don't have to leave. I don't want you to leave.”

A wave of tears rushed over her and she tried to fight them back. What was this game he was playing with her? She didn't understand the rules. “What do you want?” she asked, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Look at yourself,” he said. “Are you happy doing this? Washing dishes? Making beds? Stacking firewood?”

“I was trying to help you,” she said. “You could say ‘thank you' like your sister did instead of acting as if I've done something wrong.”

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“You're welcome.” She threw the towel down and tried to get past him at the door. But he caught her arm and pulled her in front of him.

“Don't try to convince yourself that this life is for you, Millie.” He leaned close, his breath warm on her cheek. “Don't tell yourself that you can be happy here, because you can't. It may seem like a pleasant way to pass a few days, but, believe me, it will suck the happiness out of you over time.”

“Do you really hate it all that much?” she asked.

“I hate that I can't offer you more than this,” he muttered.

“Is that what this is all about?” Amelia asked. “Are you still comparing yourself to Edward?”

“Edward. Your family. Your friends. It's a whole different existence, Millie. You come from a world where people wait on you. You don't wait on people.”

“You really don't know me at all, do you? I lived that life and I never felt as if it fit. I tried to turn myself into one of them, but I couldn't. For them—my parents, Edward, his parents—money is everything. It's happiness and success. But I always thought that love made a person happy and successful.” She inhaled a ragged breath. “I told you before, money can't buy happiness.”

“I've never believed that. Money buys boilers and new roofs and water heaters and copper plumbing. Money buys a decent sleep at night and worry-free days. It buys time away from a job that feels as if it's going to smother you alive.”

“If money is so important to you, then you could always marry me,” Amelia said.

He frowned. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. You could marry me. Remember? I inherit ten million dollars when I get married. Ten million would buy a lot of water heaters.”

“I'm not going to marry you for your money,” he said.

“And why not? Don't you believe that money buys happiness? It seems like you'd jump at that kind of chance.”

“I just won't do it.”

“Because you don't want to be happy. You could leave the inn if you wanted to. Your father would understand if you wanted to sell it. Sarah and James would probably take it from you. But you'd rather suffer. And that's why I can't stay. Because if I did, I'd twist myself into knots to make you happy. Just like I did with my parents.” She reached out and took his hand. “And then we'd both be miserable.”

“Is this the end, then? Because I don't want it to be,” Sam said.

She grasped his other hand. “I don't know what to do with these feelings any more than you do,” Amelia assured him, her voice soft and pleading. “It doesn't have to be goodbye. Maybe in time we'll get it sorted out. Find a way we can both be happy.”

“So how do we do that?” he asked, pulling her wrist to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her pulse point, then wrapped her arm around his neck.

“We live three hours apart,” she said. “It's not like you're on a different planet. I could spend every weekend here. You could spend every weekend in Boston.”

“I have an inn to run,” he reminded her.

“You have Sarah,” she said. “And James.”

Sam smiled. “That does look hopeful.”

“Our plans don't have to be carved in stone.”

“No, they don't.”

She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her palm smoothing over his cheek. “Can we go to bed now? We have an early day tomorrow and I could really use some sleep. I'm tired of fighting with you.”

“We don't usually sleep when we go to bed,” he said.

“I realize that. But tonight we need to be practical and try to ignore our desires for just one night. Do you think you can manage that?”

“I can try,” he said.

“I have to find my boots before we head out to the cottage.”

“We don't have to go to the cottage,” he said. “We can sleep in my room. Or we've got three rooms left in the east wing. Take your pick.”

Amelia hadn't seen the manager's quarters yet. She was curious about how Sam and Sarah lived day to day. “Your room,” she said. “Definitely your room.”

He led her through a door behind the reception desk and down a long, narrow hallway. The hall opened into a small apartment tucked into one corner of the east wing. It wasn't much more than a sitting room and three small bedrooms.

“Is Sarah here?” Amelia whispered.

Sam shook his head. “They took one of the empty rooms. Bigger bed.”

“How big is your bed?”

Sam opened the door to his room and flipped on the lights. Slowly, Amelia stepped inside, and when she took it all in, she laughed. “Wow.”

“Wow you're impressed or wow this is the most pathetic thing I've ever seen?”

“It looks like the masculine version of my room at my parents'. It's as if I never escaped adolescence. As far as I know, they still have a pink canopy on my bed.”

“I should get rid of some of this stuff,” he said. “You're the first woman I've ever brought here. Probably the last.”

“Where do you take your women?” she asked.

“I own an inn. Twenty-six rooms. I have a wide choice.”

“Right. I guess I should have guessed that.” She crossed to a pair of shelves that held a crush of trophies. Amelia picked one up and examined it closely. “All State?”

“I was a pretty good baseball player in high school.”

“Some of these are for track,” she said.

“Hurdles. I was good at that, too.”

There was so much she had yet to learn about him. She knew nothing of his past beyond what she could see in this room. They hadn't discussed former lovers and girlfriends. She thought he'd attended college, but had he said what he'd majored in?

Then there were the little day-to-day familiarities: his favorite flavor of ice cream, the way he drank his coffee, the brand of toothpaste he used. She knew all of this about Edward and yet their relationship had fallen apart. Would she spend years learning about Sam only to have the same thing happen? And who would she be then? Would she have turned herself into what Sam wanted and have never lived for herself?

There was one thing she was sure about. How he'd react to her touch, to a kiss, how his body felt against hers. All the quiet intimacies that were burned into her memory forever.

“I don't see any trophies for sex,” she teased. “You're pretty good at that.” She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a playful look. “Or were you a late bloomer?”

“Are we really going to talk about this?” Sam asked.

She turned and walked toward him. “We have to talk about these things,” she said. “It's what people do to get to know each other.”

“Does that mean we're going to try to have a relationship?” Sam asked.

“Maybe,” she said. “But only if we're honest with each other and ourselves.”

“What if we still can't make each other happy?” Sam asked.

“Then we'll deal with that as it comes. But you have to give me at least a chance. Can you do that, Sam? Can you give me a chance?”

Sam reached out and cupped her face in his hands, then he kissed her, his tongue tracing the crease of her lips until she opened beneath him. “How can I refuse you anything, Amelia?”

* * *

W
EDDING
DAY
AT
the Blackstone Inn went off without a hitch. From the morning breakfast to the simple ceremony, to the dinner and reception, all the details worked to make it a memorable occasion.

The following day included a late brunch before all the guests finally departed and were delivered safely to their train.

Once the inn was quiet, Sarah, James, Amelia and Sam decided to have a small celebration of their own. They cracked open the last of the champagne and gathered in front of the fire in the front parlor to congratulate themselves on a job well done.

Strangely enough, Sam had found nothing to criticize over the course of the past forty-eight hours. Between the four of them they'd handled every emergency that had popped up and with smooth efficiency. Adding two more people to the staff had changed the whole mood of the workplace. They'd had fun—and inn-keeping hadn't been fun for him in a very long time.

“I have a toast to make,” Sam said, holding up his glass. “To a very successful weekend. We couldn't have done it without the help of Amelia and James. I'm sure our ancestors wouldn't mind if I named you honorary Blackstones. Thank you, both.”

Sarah threw her arms around James's neck and kissed him, falling into his lap and knocking over his champagne glass in the process. Sam winked at Amelia. Though he wanted nothing more than to kiss Amelia senseless, he was worried that once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop.

“I have a toast, too,” James said. He pulled Sarah to her feet and held her waist until she settled herself. Then he dropped to one knee in front of her. A gasp slipped from each of them as the scene unfolded.

“Sarah Blackstone, I've loved you from the moment we met that first day in high school. I promised myself that if I ever managed to grab your attention for longer than a few seconds, I'd tell you how I felt. So, here goes.”

Tears glistened in Sarah's eyes when she glanced over at Sam. He smiled and nodded to her.

“I think you're the most amazing woman I've ever met and I know I could make you happy for the rest of your life. So, I'd like the chance to do that, starting now. Sarah Blackstone, will you marry me?”

Sarah's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped open. “Really?”

James nodded, then laughed. “Oh, there's a ring, too.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a velvet-covered box and then opened it in front of her. A huge diamond twinkled from inside.

Sarah's hand trembled as she held it out while James slipped the ring on her finger.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I'll marry you, James.”

She dropped down to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him an enthusiastic kiss. Once she'd finished with James, she stumbled over to Sam and hugged him. Amelia was next and Sam saw that she'd grown teary-eyed, as well.

Sam shook James's hand and congratulated him on a very romantic proposal. Though he'd often worried about his sister's choices when it came to men, Sam had no doubt that Sarah and James were a good match. Their courtship had been ridiculously short, but they were meant to be.

Sarah stared down at her ring and gave James a fierce hug. “Thank you for sharing this with us,” she said excitedly to Sam and Amelia. “I can't imagine a more perfect proposal.”

“Now you'll have your own wedding to plan,” Amelia said.

“And I'll need you to help me,” Sarah said. “Will you be my maid of honor?”

Amelia nodded, the tears flooding her eyes once more. She gave Sarah a hug. “Of course.”

Sam accepted James's invitation to serve as best man and gave the handsome young plumber a hearty hug. The newly engaged pair made their excuses and said good-night, hurrying upstairs to the room they'd shared the previous night.

“That was sweet,” Amelia said, sitting on the sofa. She curled her feet up underneath her and fixed her gaze on the fire. “I've always wanted a sister. I would have settled for a brother, too, but that didn't happen for me.”

Sam sat and put his arm around her, tugging her close. “Do you know why your parents only had you?”

“I've speculated,” she said, “but my mother would never tell me the truth. I did overhear the servants talking once and they said that my mother never wanted me. She never wanted children at all. My father had threatened to divorce her if she didn't provide an heir. Nine months later, I appeared.”