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

Chapter 3

A s she was grabbing some clothes, her phone pinged, and she saw a text from an unknown number. She read the message, frowned, and deleted it.

Fucking Gary.

Texting her nasty things was just one way he tried to belittle and demean her over the years.

Saw a photo of you today, Doll, might want to take up the treadmill again. Aging is one thing, but you don’t want to get any fatter, do you?

It was not signed, but she knew it was from him.

Fat. Crazy. Old.

Those were all things Gary had said to her over the past couple of years. Yeah, her ex had taken the free spirited young woman she once was and turned her into this. An insecure thirty-something with too many bad memories to count.

But that was on her. She was always throwing caution to the wind and diving in headfirst.

Irrational.

Foolhardy.

Disgustingly na?ve.

Those were just some of Gary’s favorite adjectives for her.

Her ex-husband was a master at making her doubt herself. She’d been confident once, she realized. Had to be, otherwise she’d never have been able to walk into her modeling career, head held high and back straight.

So many people thought model was another word for airhead. People like Gary. But Samantha had a good brain. She loved to read and go to museums.

Immediately, her brain flashed back to the time Gary once brought some business acquaintances home to find her lounging in the backyard in a long-sleeved t-shirt and loose pants reading a book.

“Are you trying to embarrass me, Doll? Cause you’re just embarrassing yourself.”

He’d tossed the book into the pool after they’d left, and he’d finished scolding her .

She’d kept her tears hidden, understanding for the first time in their marriage what her role was to be. He’d rather she’d have been sunbathing in the nude for his guests.

The infamous curvy June calendar girl in the flesh.

With her wealth of red hair and statuesque body, once upon a time, young Sam was a photographer’s wet dream.

Actually, she’d been most of America’s wet dream during the height of her career.

A fact she was neither proud nor embarrassed of. It simply was.

Beauty was a funny thing if you thought about it.

She did nothing to earn her face. Sam was just lucky enough to be born with it.

Well, she did a little upkeep.

To her, that just meant a good cleansing and hydration routine.

To Gary, that had meant surgery at twenty-nine.

A facelift, to be exact.

One she’d flat out refused, and he went wild, canceling credit cards and selling off pieces of art she’d acquired over the years. When she’d refused to budge, he’d dumped her.

Plain and simple .

“Plain and simple,” she said as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

She’d often wondered what it would’ve been like to be born plain and simple. To not have her big, hazel eyes and bright, multi-faceted auburn hair that so many photographers and fashion magazines had likened to a living flame.

Would she still have made it here now without her once perfect figure and full, pink lips?

She was chubbier now. Older. Grays streaked her hair and crow's feet crinkled at the corners of her eyes. Laugh lines, though not as many as she would have liked, framed her lips.

“Yes, I would still be here,” she said softly, and then again, this time with more conviction. “Yes.”

She pulled clothes out of her closet and dressed quietly. Gary wasn’t here now.

He was not a part of her life. He would no longer dictate how she lived.

Period.

Nodding, she headed back downstairs to the hunky handyman who was waiting for her. Samantha decided then and there it was okay to be open to new feelings.

Feelings a certain sexy man with a tool belt just so happened to inspire. She was an adult. Perfectly capable of acknowledging and reciprocating consensual attraction. That’s all this was.

They were strangers. They were good looking. So yeah, it was only natural. But nothing had to come of it.

She could allow herself to feel flattered. That was totally fine.

Yes.