The write way for love, p.28
The Write Way for Love, page 28
Turning his body slightly, Sam slipped his phone from his pocket, opening an old app he hadn’t accessed in many, many years – Adam’s Little Black Book of sexual conquests. Sam’s eyes read the number displayed there, a full three seconds before it truly sunk into his brain. It was a disgustingly large tally. If Adam’s LBB count was honestly that high, he had earned his title as the town’s most fun, and most frequent, hook up. Gagging, he slid his phone back into his pocket as he coughed and spluttered. Reece whacked him on the back. Everyone stared.
Hands still clasped with Eddie’s, Gran turned. “You okay, Sam?”
Through watering eyes, Sam managed, “I’m fine, Gran. Carry on.”
Locking eyes with Anita, he basked in her smile, eyes misting all over again. Who needed a tonne when you had The Right One? I love you, Anita. As though she’d heard him, he watched her mouth form the words, “I love you, Sam.”
After the ceremony, he sought her out, groaning slightly as he saw the company she was keeping. Shit. Taking a deep breath, he joined the energetic bunch. After a few moments, Anita caught his eye, a familiar smirk lighting her face.
“Oh, I know that look. Some kind of inspiration is hitting. Tell me, who inspired this next Sammie Hart love story? What do their feet look like?”
Sam exploded into laugher, draping his arm around her shoulders and bringing her face to his chest. “You sure have a way with words,” he chuckled into her hair. “But it’s The Knights, you see. They’re, uh, full of … ideas.”
“Oh, so many ideas.”
“You need to write about a king and a servant! Historical, you know. I love those,” Cecelia was saying to Sam, ignoring the youngster’s side-chat. Benjamin started to mumble something, but Ethel’s retort was louder.
“No!” she cried, gripping Sam’s arm tightly. “I think you should write one of those monster romances. You know, where some horribly sensual fantasy creature with tentacles–”
Coughing loudly, Sam tried desperately to cover the rest of that sentence, and unhear what they were saying. Benjamin continued mumbling, and Lucious had his hand cupped around his ear, clearly straining to follow the conversation. The women argued on.
Help. Sam tried to convey the wish in his eyes as he looked down on his witch. Anita, please. Her touch warmed his forearm. “Sorry, Knights, but I have to steal this one away.”
“Must you really leave so soon?” the refined Mary asked.
“Is it time for the reception?” Ethel’s eyes widened in her round face. “I want to draw out this shindig!”
“Last wedding I went to was decades ago!” Benjamin huffed into his beard. “I’m not ready to go back to Saint Jude’s.”
“We’re not going back,” Ethel scoffed. “Not yet! The night is still young!”
“Ethel. Benjamin.” Cecelia shook her head at the constantly bickering pair. “Let the youngsters go. Clearly, they have other business to attend to.” No one missed her innuendo, or her wicked wink. Used to their antics by now, Sam barely even blushed.
“That’s right,” Anita said, winking right back. “But we’ll see you soon.”
“At the reception?” Ethel clarified. “I’m so looking forward to the reception.”
“Yes, Ethel,” John offered, chuckling.
“You cheeky youngsters!” said Lucious. “Off with you!”
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Sam laughed, looking around for Anita.
“You coming, Was?” she called, already halfway across the park, heading to his car.
God, I love this woman.
He reached her in four long strides, running a hand through his hair. “So, you wanna get out of here? Blow this popsicle stand?”
“Blow popsicles, hey?” Anita’s dark brows rose suggestively and Sam’s skin heated.
“Not what I meant … but I’m not saying no! I, uh, have something to show you.”
Her burst of laughter drew so much attention, a sneaky get-away was impossible. “I think I’ve seen it, Was. But I don’t think we should leave Gran …”
“I have strawberries and chocolates in the car.” He purred the words against her earlobe.
Curling into his attentions, she admitted, “That does sound delicious.”
“Don’t worry about the newlyweds. We’ll see them for dinner. Just wave at Edith and come with me now.”
“Now?”
“I took a page from your grimoire and worked a bit of a spell on Gran, and she’s happy for us to go.”
“Seriously?” Anita sought the newly wed bride through the crowd. Clutching Eddie’s arm, her beaming dentures were aimed straight at them, and she winked. With a flick of her hand, she encouraged them to leave. Her mouth formed an exaggerated GO.
“See? C’mon, lettuce get out of here!”
“How do you make salad sound so sexy?” Anita chuckled, calling through the crowd, “See you later, Edith and Eddie!” Sam unlocked the car and they slid in.
“So, can I know where you’re taking me?”
“Does it matter?” Anywhere with you is Heaven …
“Not in the slightest.” She leant across to kiss his cheek before clicking her seatbelt on. “You could take me to moon and back, Sammie Hart.”
“Aaaaand another right here? Samuel Harthrup, I think we’ve circled Moonshine four times already! Where. Are. We. Going?” Laughing, Anita shook her head. “The old colonial planners really must’ve enjoyed the bootleg liquor this town is named after. There are no other reasons for the dog-leg corners and five-way intersections that seem to end in a series of cul-de-sacs. Was, I’m new to this whole living-in-one-place-and-getting-to-know-each-street-thing, but even I know you’re just cruising randomly.” Biting her lip, she looked out the windscreen. “Are we there yet?”
“Actually, yes. We’re here.” Sam pulled the car to the side of the road, killing the engine. “This is it. Wentworth Avenue.” One of the most expensive streets in Moonshine. Sam surveyed the vast, neat lawns and heritage homes that lined the street. Nearly every property was bordered by thick, tidy hedges and the white picket fences Anita adored, all shadowed in a shifting, dappled light from huge trees that arched the width of the road.
“I agree about the town planners by the way,” he mused, his eyes following thick trunks into their casings of tar. The roads had been built wide and around the towering trees, unlike newer cities where trees were cut and the earth paved over.
“WOW! Was, isn’t it beautiful?” she sighed, hands unconsciously sliding to rest on her stomach. He looked to her, so bright and full of life.
“Sure is.” Sam’s eyes were glued on Anita, to the growing baby beneath her loving touch. “Simply amazing.”
Gone were her worn bohemian rags, replaced with the formal dress that hugged every curve and flowed to her feet in long waves. While she had always been beautiful, now Anita positively glowed. She had changed his whole world, in the simple act of choosing him, choosing them. Something he’d never dreamed possible. But the little witch wasn’t done altering his world – not yet. She was in the process of transforming herself, too. He watched her kick off her heels and bury her toes into the soft grass by the footpath, moaning with pleasure.
“You know, if I didn’t know any better,” he mumbled down into her hair, bending slightly to wrap his arms around her waist, “I’d think that life in Moonshine suited you.” The fullness of her felt like heaven as she moulded her body to his.
“It does,” she said, arching her neck to catch his lips once.
Sam pointed one crooked finger. “Number Three. C’mon.”
Taking her hand, Sam led Anita up the footpath to the letterbox that proudly poked through the white wooden fence palings, the number 3 painted in a dark, luxurious font. As they turned to face the property face-on, he pointed out a meticulously hand-painted clown waving below the mail slot.
“That reminds me of Barney,” Anita said, gently stroking the figure. “He’s got great talent, you know. He designs and paints all the sets and props for Cirque de Fortuna.” Her voice became far-away as she leant into Sam’s side. “Did I tell you Barney was originally a Moonshine man? He ran away with the circus. Joined the family decades ago, after meeting Claus by the Ferris wheel.” She sighed, surveying the property.
“You didn’t tell me that, no. But Claus mentioned that they always planned to retire here.”
“Really? He told you that?” With a sigh, she added, “I’d love to see them here.”
“For the last twenty years, they’ve kept this house for that one purpose,” Sam said, nodding towards Number Three. “But they’re not ready to retire yet, apparently. They’re not done with Adrian, they said.”
Her face soured. “Well, I am.”
Resting his chin on the top of her head, he inhaled the sweet lavender scent of her. “It’s an amazing house, hey? The kind of place I can see two old clowns with twin rocking chairs on the porch.”
“True. But …” she sighed, hands on her belly once more. “Plans change, Was.” Turning to him, she lifted her chin, eyes lighting up as she added, “Wanna snoop?”
“You? Snoop?” She grinned up at him as he laughed, “I thought you’d never ask.”
Hands clasped tight, they strode across the manicured yard, stopping at the small front porch.
“Use that spell,” Sam whispered. “The one where you find people’s spare keys and let yourself into their place, like you did with my flat.”
“Why are you whispering?” she whispered back with a low chuckle, starting to circle her arms over an imaginary cauldron. “Hocus pocus, eye of newt … Gods Sam’s sexy in a suit. We need a place to go make out … So pocus hocus, Gods help me out!”
Sam fought a smile, fighting the blush creeping up his neck. “That’s it?”
“Well, what did you expect me to say?” Her laughter warmed his soul. “But look! A key!” Bending to kick the mat aside, she slid a silver key into his palm.
“It worked? Shit, maybe you are a witch!”
“Or, hear me out … maybe I just know the usual places people leave their spare keys?” She shot Sam a knowing look. “Under the door mat or in a pot plant really isn’t the safest hiding place, you know.”
“You do this a lot?”
She offered a shrug, nodding to the cherry red door. “Go on, open it.”
“On one condition.”
“And what’s that? I already have my shoes off …” Her grin near cut her face in half and all he could do was reflect it back at her.
“No, you infuriating woman. This isn’t about feet, though yours are particularly attractive. I want to carry you over the threshold.”
“Really? Sam, no.”
“I mean, I know it’s corny –”
She rolled her eyes. “Here we go ...”
“Cheesy even –”
“Dear Gods.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, mimicking him. “The food puns …”
“C’mon, Anita, I want to. Will you let me?”
“Can you? I mean, I’m–”
“Gorgeous.” He cut off any other adjective she might have used. “Exceptional.”
Her blue eyes rolled. “Alright. But if you drop me …”
“Doctor Dickhead will be here in one minute flat.”
“Oh, that’s comforting.”
The key slid in, releasing the lock with a soft click. “Ready?” Bending his knees, he caught Anita as she jumped lightly into his arms, curling against his chest and around his neck. “Mmmm,” she murmured into his neck. “You smell so good. Clean and fresh.” He squirmed as she nuzzled into him.
“Stop wiggling!” he huffed into her hair, gripping her tightly. “There’s a good little witch.”
“I’m hardly little, Was.”
Carefully, he manoeuvred her feet around the door frame, swinging her gently into the room before placing her down on the hard wood floor with a kiss.
“Babe, you’re like, half my height. You’re tiny to a giant like me.”
“Giant, huh?” She let her eyes flick to his crotch and his blush hit in full force. As she moved further into the house, her hand grazed over his trousers, circling as she took in their surroundings. “This house … it takes my breath away.”
“Go on,” Sam encouraged, loosening the tie from his crimson neck. “Explore.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. Giggling, she took off, commenting the entire time about the grand home, the ornate cornices and wide windows, the sparkling wooden bannisters and the modern kitchen Sam was sure to drool over.
“Was?” her voice drifted through the hallways. “Where are you?”
“In here!”
“Where?”
“Follow my voice!”
Anita hadn’t realised they made houses this big, without calling them ‘villas’, ‘chateaux’ or ‘castles’. But her friend’s home was worthy of such a title, especially after so many years in her tiny vardo trailer. The sheer size and scale of the ceilings, the windows, the spaces … “Breathtaking.”
“Don’t get distracted!” Sam’s chuckle echoed off the clean, crisp walls. “Follow my voice!”
“Sam?”
She found him in the kitchen, of course. Fiddling with a copy of his latest novel, Chef’s Kiss, he adjusted his spectacles, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
“Was? What’s wrong.”
“Nothing.” He drew her close. “Absolutely nothing, Anita.” Placing her hands on his chest, she looked up at him, marvelling at this man who put so much faith into her. Into them.
“This is …” he shook his head, starting again. “You are …”
“You word so good, Sammie.” Knowing he’d find the words, she held him, enjoying the feel of him against her.
“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Anita,” Sam said, threading his arms around her. “I donut know what I would do without you in my lie. You’ve given me so much already … a career that is only getting stronger, someone to smooch daily, a family I can be proud of …” His hand dipped to the curve of her stomach. “The only way you could make me happier right now is if you held a boombox above your head or stood at the door with a series of hand-written signs declaring your undying love.”
“You’ve been watching too many romantic movies, my darling,” she said, chuckling. She tapped her temple. “I love it. I’ll file that away for next time, Romeo.”
“Actually, I do have one kind of odd request … Something that would make me happy …”
She marvelled constantly at the deep blush that overtook him. Watching his face darken now, Anita shook her head in wonder. “But we did it this morning …”
“No, not that, you sex fiend. Jeeze, it’s like every time we hang out with the Knights–”
“Sam.” She cut him off with a chuckle. “What are you trying to say?”
“Anita Shithouse Fortuna,” Sam fell to one knee, Chef’s Kiss in his hands. “I love you. I adore you to pieces, in fact. And I …” he thrust the book toward her. “I want you to have this.”
“I already have it.” Her eyebrows scrunched. “And the drafts.”
“This copy is special. Open it ... carefully.”
Her blue eyes sparkled as she took the novel, carefully peeking inside the cover. Nothing. A few page flicks and she was wondering if she should be reading the words she’d helped write, edited and proofread a million times before now.
“Sam, I’m not sure what …” With another page turn, her breath caught. A hole had been cut through the centre of the book – just big enough to fit a small, navy-blue box. “Sam?”
Removing the book from her shaking hands, she watched him work the box from the core of his novel.
“Hand out,” he instructed, gently tracing the lines of her hand before resting the box in her palm. Sam started a slow removal of the rings on her other hand.
“You know,” he said, eyes wide and sincere, “I don’t have much.” He slid the ring from her thumb. “But what I do have, I want to share with you, always and forever.” Sam twisted a set of three stacked rings from her pointer finger. “I couldn’t be Samuel, let alone Sammie Hart, without you.” Another three rings were removed from her middle finger. “I need you, Anita. I want to live with you. Here.”
“Here?” She cast a look around the mansion of a house Barney and Claus owned.
“Sshh. I’m doing a thing.” He winked up at her from his bent knee.
“Sorry,” she whispered around the lump growing in her throat. “Go on. I’ll be quiet.”
The look he shot her screamed ‘Yeah right!’ but he drew her attention back to his careful ministrations with a kiss to her hand, sliding the remaining rings from her fingers and pocketing them. “So many,” he muttered, plucking the box from her open palm. “Anita.”
“Was?”
“Will you do me the honour of living in domestic bliss with this dweeb of a writer?” He clicked the box open, revealing a single blue key on a keyring. My favourite colour … Her heart swelled, fit to burst from her chest. Sam removed the key from the box, sliding the ring up one bare finger. “Live with me, here, till the clowns come to kick us out. They’re okay with this plan, by the way. Let’s cook in this kitchen and fill the rooms with laughter. Let’s raise our kids here. Let’s–”
“You’re giving me a … house?”
“Let’s make a home, Anita. You. Me. The baby. A black cat, if you insist.”
“Oh, Sam!” she breathed, crushing her lips to his. “Say the magic words!”
Chuckling against her mouth he spoke through kisses. “Bippity. Boppity. Boo.”
Acknowledgements
This book is my tribute to food puns and feet. I never thought I’d write that sentence, but there you go.
As I wrote The Write Way to Love, I found endless joy in a little group called ‘Feet Fridays‘, established with the sole purpose of freaking out my friend Rachel. To say Rach has an intense dislike of feet is probably an understatement, but the jokes led to inspiration and a whole lot of giggles as I wrote this novel. So thank you to the Feet Friday Crew – Ben, Beth, Caitlin, Cassie, Daniel, Jacob, James, Melissa and Rachel. Without you, Sam might have been a completely different dude.
