Her Werewolf Lover: Michael and Samantha (The Macconwood Pack Tales #15)

Chapter 1

“ W hat is it, Samantha? Are you okay?” exclaimed Eileen.

The lovable fifty-ish woman hurried into the living room, looking alarmed. She was the property caretaker, but now that Sam would live there permanently, she had hired her to come in a few evenings every week, and even more for the foreseeable future, until she got things organized.

Samantha needed help to clean up and organize the large house. Maccon City was fairly large, and her house was in a fairly secluded section next to a small wooded area that connected to the Pine Barrens.

Yes, she needed Eileen. Especially now. It was a mess since she’d just moved in and had her belongings delivered.

“Eileen, this is it.”

“The lawyer. Did he call?” Eileen asked, excitement sparkling in her eyes.

“Yes! I am officially back to being Ms. Jones! The divorce is final,” Sam twirled around the room with her phone and replayed the message for Eileen.

“Good news, indeed, Samantha. No more Mr. Gary! I hope you will be happy now, mija ,” the older woman replied with feeling.

Eileen clasped her hands together in front of her. She was a petite woman, shorter than Samantha by at least a foot, but she was incredibly strong, which she demonstrated by hauling the younger woman into a bearish embrace that had Sam giggling despite the alarming cracking sounds in her bones.

“Isn’t it great, Eileen?”

“He won’t be happy, you know. He doesn’t like to give up on things, mija ,” she whispered.

The poor woman had worked there for years, but she never liked to be around when Gary was home. Sam didn’t blame her in all honesty.

“Oh, I’m not worried about him anymore, and I won’t let you worry either. You have been wonderful taking care of everything and explaining things to me while I’ve been in the city these past few months. I know you worked for Gary first, but you’ve been indispensable in helping me set up the house and move in. I can’t thank you enough, Eileen,” Sam told her.

She hugged the older woman and squeezed her for just a minute.

“Yes, but he is a snake. Always listening, always plotting. He will try to make this hard on you,” Eileen replied.

She patted Sam’s back and looked at her with wide, dark brown eyes that seemed to glow like warm honey in the dim lighting.

Such a nice color.

“Not this time, Eileen. I won’t let him near me or my life again.”

“Out of all of Mr. Gary’s wives, you were always the best. So smart and kind. Too good for the likes of him.”

“Eileen, thank you so much. Now come on, dance with me!” Sam felt so light and free. She recommenced her little dance, dragging Eileen with her.

“Samantha!”

“I don’t care if he has a hissy fit right in the middle of Madison Square Garden, Eileen! I feel great, so very great. Come on, let’s celebrate! ”

She shimmied over to her wireless speaker and turned up the volume. The sweet, sultry sounds coming from the speakers had her shaking her hips around the living room as she opened the small fridge behind the built-in bar and took out a bottle of champagne.

The good stuff .

Sam popped the bottle triumphantly and poured two flutes, handing one to Eileen.

“He must’ve forgotten to empty this out. Serves him right. Here’s to, heck , here’s to me,” Sam said.

She lifted the flute to her mouth and frowned when Eileen did not take hers, “What’s wrong?”

“Sweetie, you must be open to finding real happiness. Promise me, yes?”

“Sure. I can be happy. I will be happy alone.”

“No, the right man will come. You’ll see.” Eileen sipped her own champagne and patted Samantha’s hand.

She took in the large living room and its hideous décor. Eileen grimaced, but tried not to show it.

Bless her heart.

“You know, you need some help. I am too old to do this, but you are going to work yourself into an early grave if you try to tackle this remodel alone. Come on, sit, sit, sit. Here, let me get you something to eat,” Eileen murmured.

The older woman produced a plate of homemade cinnamon cookies from the sidebar and shoved them towards Samantha.

Sam had to admit, she liked the coddling. Loved the way it felt to have someone looking out for her.

“Oooh!” Sam sighed and took a bite of sinfully sweet heaven.

“Now, about this place,” Eileen started.

She nodded at the red velvet curtains and gilded mirrors throughout the room with muted horror showing on her face. The woman had flawless skin. Sam appreciated beauty, and older or not, Eileen looked great.

“You’re right, Eileen. It is terrible.”

Samantha smirked and picked up a gold fringed pillow. She threw it across the room to join the other one. An audible sigh escaped her lips as she nibbled on another deliciously soft cinnamon cookie.

“You need to fix this mess, mija .”

“Yeah, but paint isn’t going to do it. What I need is someone to help put this place together my way. I mean, all those interior designers Gary used to deal with. Ugh. They wanted everything their way, and I am tired of listening to everyone telling me who I am.”

“I understand, Samantha, I do.”

“No, you’re right. I don’t know how to take this place apart myself. But it needs to be done.”

Weary and anxious, Samantha leaned on Eileen and let the woman fuss with getting her a napkin and another cookie.

It felt good being fretted over.

“What you want is not a designer. What you want is my Miguelito .” Eileen grinned, as if an imaginary light bulb blinked on over the top of her salt and pepper curls.

“What, or rather who is Miguelito ?”

Samantha bit into one of Eileen’s magical cinnamon cookies, trying not to look around at the ugly as sin room.

Dear God, how many gold and red fringed pillows were there in the world?

She sighed as she ate. Licking the cinnamon sugar from her lips, Samantha listened to Eileen go on and on about her little Miguel.

“ Miguel es mi sobrino. Un carpintero. His company started right here in Maccon City. He works so hard. And he is a very good boy, my Miguelito. ”

Samantha, hopeless at any language, including English , pieced together that Miguel was Eileen’s nephew. A carpenter who had a talent for painting, marble, woodwork, plumbing, lighting, gardening, heck, anything you could think of that dealt with one’s hands.

Eileen sang his praises in between sips of champagne, and though Samantha had her misgivings, she decided she would give him a shot.

A handyman was a foolish thing to waste.

She vaguely remembered Eileen mentioning him a few times when she’d first arrived a few months ago. He definitely had a kid. A son maybe. But Sam could not recall if he was married.

Hmmm, a handyman, huh?

She wondered what else he could do with his hands.

Christ, had it really been that long since she’d had decent sex?

If talking about a handyman made her all hot and bothered, then the answer was obvious.

She really needed to get herself together and stop trying to picture a sexy bare-chested contractor in nothing but a tool belt.

OMG. Stop it!

She needed his hands for her house, not her body. Sex was not on the agenda. An estimate for remodeling was.

“Okay, Eileen, call him and tell him to come in for a proposal and an estimate. We’ll see what he can do, okay?”

“Excellent! It will be so good for you both. Yes, I’ll call him. Good, good, now eat another galleta . You are getting so skinny!”

Samantha chuckled, but she also grabbed another cookie. She wasn’t a total moron.