Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy #1)(37)
It was incredibly frustrating, considering she wanted to know so much more about Clay Kincaid. He’d given her little tidbits of his past, just enough for her to know his childhood hadn’t been ideal. Unfortunately, he was excellent at deflecting any attempt she made to dig a little deeper in hopes of learning what experiences had molded him into the man he was today—one who was generous and reliable and decent, yet so emotionally guarded.
Last night, she’d come upstairs and had taken a shower, intending to wait up until Clay finally came up to the apartment. But the moment her tired body had sunk into his soft mattress and her head had hit the pillow, she’d been out. And by the time she’d gotten up this morning, he was already gone.
It felt as though they were back to square one, and Samantha refused to let Clay retreat from them, from her, after finally making progress with him yesterday afternoon.
She’d just finished drying the last dish when someone knocked on the door that led out of the apartment to the side lot, where deliveries to the bar were made, and where the employees parked their vehicles. She figured whoever was there, it had to be for Clay, but since he wasn’t around, she headed for the door.
She looked through the peephole and saw Katrina standing on the other side. Samantha unlocked and opened the door, happy to see someone she already considered a friend.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” Samantha asked curiously, her gaze taking in the other woman’s outfit. She experienced a moment of envy at the way Katrina could pull off wearing a dark brown suede top that laced together in the front and made her look tough and sexy at the same time. The tight fit pushed up her breasts and made them look amazing. She had on a matching miniskirt and cute beige suede ankle boots with a nice-sized heel.
“I have a delivery for you,” Katrina said, flashing a smile.
“Me?” Samantha laughed, now even more confused. “I don’t remember ordering anything.”
“You didn’t. Clay did.” Katrina shook her head and waved her hand in the air, making those colorful butterflies inked on her arm appear as if they were taking flight. “Or rather, Clay told me what he wanted to do, and I did the ordering because there is no way he could have pulled this off on his own,” she said, looking very pleased with herself.
Samantha had absolutely no idea what Katrina was talking about, but she was definitely intrigued. She followed the other woman’s pointing gesture down to the parking lot, where two young, muscular men stood next to a small, nondescript delivery truck, waiting.
“Bring it all up here, boys!” Katrina called out.
For the next fifteen minutes, Samantha stood in the living room with Katrina while the guys brought up delivery after delivery of boxes and large-handled bags from Williams-Sonoma—a high-end store that sold the best of kitchen equipment and small appliances, professional bakeware, and specialty items. She was so stunned she was speechless. When one of the men carried in a big box with a picture of an industrial-grade stand mixer on the side, Samantha’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor as understanding finally dawned.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed, both shocked and elated by what Clay had done. He’d taken her dream of being a pastry chef and was helping to make it a reality.
“He bought all this stuff for me to use to bake, didn’t he?” she asked incredulously.
“Yep,” Katrina confirmed. “I wasn’t sure what, exactly, you would need, so I asked a consultant at the store to put together everything a new pastry chef would need to have in her kitchen, including all the ingredients you might need to do the baking,” she said, sounding as excited as Samantha felt. “You should be well equipped since I pretty much cleared out the baking aisle at the grocery store.”
By the time the delivery guys had unloaded everything, the entire kitchen was filled with bags and boxes, and Samantha couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed on a multitude of levels. “It’s too much.” She pressed her hands to her warm cheeks when she thought about how much Clay had spent on her. A surge of guilt wasn’t far behind. “All this had to have cost him a small fortune.”
“Meh,” Katrina said with a shrug, as if money wasn’t an issue. “Clay didn’t hesitate when I told him how much everything was.”
He truly hadn’t spared any expense on her aspirations, and even without words, he was letting her know that he believed in her, when her parents never had and never would. He had no idea how much his generosity meant to her, or how much his confidence in her abilities boosted her own determination to make her dreams a reality. She didn’t want to let herself down, but more importantly, she didn’t want to let him down.
An emotional lump formed in Samantha’s throat, and tears pricked the backs of her eyes. All her life, she’d received ridiculously expensive presents—opulent jewelry, extravagant cars and trips, luxurious designer clothes and accessories—but she’d never been given a gift that was so personal and heartfelt. So thoughtful and meaningful. Even with her parents knowing how much she loved to bake and how badly she wanted to pursue being a pastry chef, not once had they ever encouraged her, let alone given her something to acknowledge her passion.
In that moment, Samantha felt that first flutter of sensation in her heart that told her she was on her way to falling in love with Clay Kincaid. She ought to provide herself with a stern lecture about this thing with Clay being just an affair, a warning about guarding her heart or else she’d get hurt. But as she stared at the abundance of items beckoning to her in the fully stocked kitchen in Clay’s apartment, she couldn’t find the words, or the will to ignore the feelings growing inside her. And she no longer wanted to, she realized.