Samantha's Secret: Book 3 (The Elvis Angel Series)

Chapter Four

                             CHAPTER FOUR

        There were 8 cabins in all.  At first glance, Sam guessed them to be around 1000 square feet. While they were identical in construction and color--a rich chocolate brown--each house was also unique in their own way. For instance, house number 1 had emerald colored window shutters while the house next to it was trimmed in cool mint green. There were personal touches too, like wind chimes and lounge chairs on the front porch of cabin 3. But it was the last house, cabin 8 that really got Sam's attention. With a chimney flute rising from the roof line and a Jacuzzi on the back patio, it's safe to say cabin 8 was easily her favorite.  She was already imagining how that hot water would feel to her tired muscles by the end of the day. If she were going to stay, which of course, she was not. 

       She pulled into the first available parking spot and shut off the car. Her gaze drifted back to cabin 8. 

       "I see you found your cabin," a familiar voice hollered and Sam looked over her shoulder, out the back window to Jimmy, who was fast stepping it her way. 

      When Sam had reunited with Jimmy at Dalton's, she had no idea who he was. It had been more than 10 years since she'd seen him and neither her father nor Heather had mentioned a guest was joining them for dinner.  He was indeed a surprise.  Sam didn't even realize who Jimmy was until her father introduced him and even then he had to practically spell it out.  As she thought back, she remembered how he looked that night, dressed in a gray business suit and pink tie.  He wasn't the lanky pimply-faced boy she remembered from high school.  And except for the pink tie, he looked very much like a church administrator should, composed and steady.

     But today, he looked more like the boy she remembered.  He wore a white tee-shirt that said 'Hang Loose,' with the famous Hawaiian shaka hand sign—thumb and pinky finger extended up—on the front of it.  When she noticed the light blue wave-breaker shorts he had on and the way the sun was highlighting the blonde streaks in his brown hair, all Sam could see was Jimmy at 18.  But he wasn't a young boy anymore; he was a man in his 30's.  Virile—yes—she could see that clearly, as his chest muscles flexed against the fabric while he raced across the parking lot to greet her. But she didn't know this man, not really. Where had the last 12 years taken him?  Was he still a B-movie buff?  Did he still dip his french-fries in his strawberry shake?  Did she even care?   

    In need of some air, she pulled on the car's door handle until it cracked a tad.      

  "Here, let me help," Jim picked up the pace, tapping the trunk on his way around to her side. When he arrived, he grabbed the door handle and stepped back, swinging it wide so that Sam could step out.  As she exited, she was careful to keep the door between them.  

   Lord forbid you get all that heated muscle pressed up against you, Sam, she thought mockingly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. What woman wants that? Turning her back to Jim, she leaned into the back seat for her purse.

 "Are your bags in the trunk?" He tilted his head enough to see over her shoulder.

 "Yeah…about my bags," she said, turning around to face him.

  "Don't tell me you forgot them," he flashed a smile that in Sam's mind could only be rivaled by the million dollar grin of her angel. Trying not to stare, she shifted her gaze and began to fiddle with the controls on her key ring.  

  "You know, it's a funny thing," she flashed a grin that she feared looked more like an expression of pain then humor. "But I-I actually thought this was a day trip."