Yes, Sam's dad loves hot peppers. I've been warned that her brother Cameron loves them even more, so I should, as Chuck put it, "spray some polyurethane varnish on your tongue before you eat anything Cam cooked up." Brilliant. I can impress Sam's brother by hacking my guts out during dinner. I've never cared much for hot peppers, anyway.
But for Sam, I will eat them. Even if it kills me.
In the late afternoon, Sam's brother calls to let everyone know he and his family have just landed at the airport. They'll arrive in an hour or so. I do not get nauseous when I hear that news. It must've been the chili after all.
Though everyone tells me I don't need to "gussy up" for the arrival of the last few Lockharts, I decide to exchange my jeans and T-shirt for khaki trousers and a button-down shirt with the top button undone. This is dress casual or some such bollocks. I don't want to look like a posh prince, but I also don't want to seem like a slob either. I've never spent this much time worrying about my clothes.
When I walk out into the living room wearing my dress casual outfit, Chuck smirks. "Didn't we say you don't need to get all gussied up? It's just my kid and his kids. Amy and the girls don't care if you look like a CEO or a frat boy."
"I know, but I wanted to make a good first impression."
"Didn't worry about that when Judy and I got here." He waggles his eyebrows. "As I recall, you were buck naked."
"You surprised us. And I was half-naked, wearing my boxers."
"Oh yeah, that's a big difference."
"Sorry. I know I'm being a bit precious about this, but I wanted to make a better first impression this time."
"I get that. But you don't need to try so hard."
"Right." I glance down at my clothes. "Should I change into something less… I don't know."
"You're fine. Relax, kid. It'll be over soon."
I might feel more relaxed if he hadn't said it will be over soon. That sounds awfully final. What will be over? I'm not walking away from Sam, no matter what her brother says or does. Even if she tells me to leave, I will do whatever it takes to convince her to let me stay.
Sam is in the kitchen with her mother right now. They seem to be discussing something important, speaking softly and leaning in close to each other. I assume they didn't hear anything Chuck just told me, and I can't help wondering what sort of conversation they're having that requires whispering.
Chuck peeks out the window that overlooks the front porch. Then he throws his head back and shouts, "I see a car. They're almost here."
Judy and Sam emerge from the kitchen to join us near the front door.
I do not feel nauseous. Not even a little.
Sam sidles up to me, slipping her hand into mine. She raises onto her tiptoes to whisper, "Stop tensing up. Cameron is a nice guy, not an assassin."
Was I tensing up? Since my shoulders have started to ache just a little, I think I must have been doing that. Pulling in a deep breath, I exhale it slowly and let the tension sift away. I suspect it's Sam, not my deep breathing, that relaxes me. She smells good, though not like perfume. It's just her natural, indescribable scent.
A knock rattles the front door.
Chuck swings it open and grins. "Merry Christmas! Come on in, guys. We've got a little surprise for you."
A tall man with broad shoulders and a dark beard that matches his dark hair saunters into the house. A petite redhead follows him, and two girls trail after her. One has auburn hair while the other has dark hair, like her father. The girls don't look old enough or tall enough to be teenagers, but they aren't small children either.
Cameron Lockhart gives his parents quick hugs, then approaches me and Sam. "Who's this guy? I'm guessing he's the surprise Dad mentioned."
"Um, yeah," Sam says, hunching her shoulders. "I guess he is the surprise."
I thrust my hand out to Sam's brother. "Bennett Montague. But you can call me Ben."
"Cameron Lockhart," he says a bit cautiously as he shakes my hand. "Where are you from? Don't sound American."
"I—Well, it's a long story. Essentially, I'm British."
"Uh-huh. Essentially? You must know where you're from. So why are you being cagey about it?"
I don't think I'm doing that. Am I? Well, maybe a little. I'd hoped to delay the "I'm a crown prince" rubbish until later, but clearly, Cameron wants answers now. I am sleeping with his sister, so I can't blame him for that.