Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy #1)(34)
Yeah, he was so damned screwed.
Clay stood at the far end of the bar, his gaze coming to rest on the object of his search. While Tara and Gina worked the service area, Samantha wove around the crowded tables, delivering drinks and food and taking orders. She was completely relaxed and glowing, no doubt from the three orgasms he’d given her earlier. The uncivilized caveman side of him took pride in the shine radiating from her porcelain skin and those luminous blue eyes.
She smiled at customers and laughed at something one of them said to her. The guy followed up his comment with a wink—which made Clay clench his jaw in irritation. Watching other men flirt and hit on Samantha was the worst part of her working at the bar. He didn’t like seeing it happen nightly any more than he appreciated the fact that he felt that way about her at all.
Clay had never been a jealous, possessive kind of guy, and he had no business feeling that way now. He didn’t do messy or complicated relationships with women, and he reminded himself that Samantha was no different. What they had was a short-term fling. He was too f*cked up from his shitty past, too jaded by life in general, and too used to being alone to think otherwise. And mostly, he was too emotionally damaged to give any woman—Samantha, especially—the kind of love and forever promises she deserved and no doubt wanted.
He just didn’t have it in him, and knowing that truth about himself had always enabled Clay to keep women compartmentalized in a way that ensured there were no misunderstandings, no unrealistic expectations. Just hot, uncomplicated sex. He attempted to keep Samantha in that same neat, temporary box in his brain—because he knew her time here was brief and merely a reprieve from her real life. It wouldn’t be long before she either figured out what she wanted to do with her future and moved on or succumbed to parental pressure and returned home to marry the gutless bastard her father had chosen for her.
Clay’s stomach twisted with real f*cking pain at the notion, something he preferred not to think about now—or ever—even though he realistically knew that he’d never fit into her world. Socially, they were polar opposites. One way or another, her leaving was inevitable, and there was no way he’d try and stop her when the day arrived. In fact, he’d be doing her a huge favor by waving good-bye when the time came.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Whatever worked to let her go. As long as she didn’t resort to option number two and choose home, along with the * waiting to put a ring on her finger. In the meantime, he’d do all he could to keep her happy while she was here—another anomaly for him, but f*ck it. He wanted her happy, and that included encouraging her to pursue her interest in being a pastry chef.
Clay had given a lot of thought to the ways he could help Samantha in that regard. She didn’t have a resume or the hands-on experience to impress a potential employer, but she was a certified pastry chef, and thanks to the housekeeper who’d initially taught her, she had honed her skills over the years. Her best bet was to find someone who’d let her prove her value and expertise in a less traditional way. It was an idea Clay was working on, and with Katrina’s help, he had a surprise for Samantha he hoped would be ready tomorrow.
Out of the corner of his eye, Clay saw a guy sit a few barstools down from where he was standing. Reluctantly dragging his gaze away from Samantha, he turned toward the customer, only to realize that it was his youngest brother, Levi, who hadn’t been in all week, which was fairly normal for Levi since he wasn’t into the bar scene. So the fact that he was here now, on a very crowded night, told Clay that he’d stopped by for a specific purpose. And it wasn’t difficult to figure out what that reason was, or whose big, fat mouth had gossiped like a f*cking girl to their brother.
Tamping down his annoyance, he strolled over to where Levi was sitting. His twenty-four-year-old brother was the fairest of the three of them, with light green eyes and sandy blond hair. Clay had always assumed Levi had taken after whoever had fathered him, since he had none of their mother’s features like he and Mason did.
“I take it you’ve talked to Mason?” Clay asked by way of a greeting.
“Not personally, though he did text me to tell me that you have a woman living with you,” Levi replied with a raised brow. “You’d think big news like that would come directly from you, instead.”
“She’s not living with me in the way you mean,” Clay explained, trying not to sound defensive.
“Doesn’t matter why she’s living with you,” his brother said, his tone and gaze serious. “The fact that you let a woman stay in your apartment for more than a night is quite shocking and fascinating.” Levi narrowed his gaze, studying Clay in that pensive way of his.
Even as a young boy, Levi had been the quiet one, always contemplating and analyzing a situation, and Clay had no doubt he was doing so now. Being a cop only amplified that personality trait, and Clay didn’t like all that knowing speculation directed at him.
Glancing away, Clay grabbed a glass and filled it with ice to make Levi’s drink of choice—orange juice and soda water. Yeah, his brother was a teetotaler. After witnessing the harsh effects that alcohol and drugs had on a person’s disposition as a kid, he’d never touched the stuff, unlike Mason, whose personality ran toward more destructive traits. Their middle brother got high however he could to forget the past and numb the pain.
“Samantha didn’t have anywhere else to go since her family cut her off financially,” Clay said, turning his thoughts back to Samantha as he poured the juice and soda water into the glass at the same time so they mixed together. “I’m just helping her get back on her feet.”