“Nope, seize the day, brah.” Tabby dragged him forward. “Samantha, you remember Scott Sanderson, right? Neighbor, roller skate destroyer, British, etcetera.”
Scott supposed he should be relieved she hadn’t said ‘panty stealer.’ “Hello, Sam.”
Samantha turned and when their eyes met, electricity prickled through his body in a way he’d not felt since he was eighteen. All he could see were her eyes, the flickering, flashing blue. No other woman had inspired this joyful terror in him. Tabby was right, he was still in love with Sam.
Bloody hell.
He cleared his throat, because everyone was looking at him and the show needed to go on. “Congratulations, you were fantastic.”
Samantha smiled. “I don’t know about that, seeing as I didn’t win.”
“You should have. Your work was magnificent.”
She flushed a little—just a tiny bit and Scott grinned. He was on the verge of asking if she wanted a drink when one of the men Sam was talking to shoved a hand at him. “Matt. Steelworks Tattoos, seven years.”
Scott shook with his hand. “I’m Scott, how do you do?”
“Good thanks. What’s your line of work?”
“I’m in finance.”
Matt grimaced. “Tough luck.”
Scott forced himself to keep smiling. Matt had angled his body so it formed a barricade between himself and Sam. If he stayed, this was going to get butch. He and Steelworks Tattoos, Seven Years would compete for Sam’s attention and hustle to buy her drinks and ask her questions until she rejected one, or both of them. The smart thing to do would be to leave. Go home and try to get his head around everything that had happened already.
“So, where to next?” Matt asked. “Sammy, feel like heading to the Black Pearl? I’ve got a mate behind the bar, we could drink away your troubles?”
Sam held up her unopened bottle of Jack Daniels. “I think I’m sorted.”
Matt grinned. “Well how about we all go back to your place and open it? Have a house party.”
“Could work.” Samantha turned to him. “Want to come back to Brunners and have a drink?”
Scott’s stomach lurched. Sam’s place was positively sagging with memories and going there tonight would have the added bonus of a romantic rival. “Actually, I should head—”
“I’m hungry,” Tabby announced. “I want to get something to eat. Sam, can we go get something to eat?”
“We’re headed back to the house.”
“We don’t have any food in the house. I mean, except zucchini and eggs and stuff. I want trash-food. Let’s go to 8-bit or something.”
Sam pursed her lips. “I don’t know, I’m not that hungry.”
“Sam’s a big girl,” Matt said. “Why don’t we—”
“We need to get you some food,” Tabby interrupted. “Hey, I haven’t been to Trippy Taco since I got back. Let’s go there! Matt, you’re parked nearby, can you drive me?”
The tall man looked from Tabby to Sam. “Ah…sure. You’ll be coming too, right Sammy?”
“Of course she will,” Tabby interrupted. “Scott can help her pack up her equipment and then drive her right over, right Scott?”
“Sure,” Scott said, trying not to sound as though he was in intense pain. The heel of Tabby’s boot had just crushed his toes.
Tabby clapped her hands. “So it’s settled. See you all at Trippy Taco! I can’t wait!”
She gripped the tall man by his shirt-front and dragged them toward the door.
He and Sam looked at each other for a moment. “I think we’ve been set up.”