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

Chapter 8

O ne week later…

Samantha hummed as she made her bed after her quick morning shower.

She was glad this room had been the first to be redone. That was only because Gary hadn’t bothered paying his first ex to do any real damage to the second floor.

It was all just cosmetic, and Michael and his crew had managed to strip, repaint, and polish every inch of the upstairs in a matter of days.

He’d insisted she needed a clear place to sleep, and even though she was not convinced it was smart, Samantha was sure glad she’d agreed.

Even better than her bedroom was the fact Gary had seemed to stop texting her. Her ex was such a piece of shit. But ever since everything was finalized, he seemed happy to stay away from her.

Thank fuck.

She didn’t know what she ever saw in Gary. Michael, though? She knew what she saw in him. Besides the obvious.

The man was simply gorgeous. But better than that, he really listened to her, using the real wood floors beneath the garish carpets and using muted beiges and grays to paint the walls.

The windows were all fine, the only change she’d asked for was in the main bedroom. Samantha wanted to be able to walk onto the terrace that was facing the backyard.

Michael agreed only after he checked to make sure it was sound. Then he swapped out the window and took out some of the wall for an enormous sheet of tempered glass with one-way visibility and yes, he added a sliding glass door.

Sam hung a dozen pretty, gauzy curtains up just because she liked them. They went with the wood and neutral color theme she had going on. Sage and blush pink accent pillows and throw blankets made it warm and cozy.

Everything she always wanted .

Samantha was thrilled so far. She couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for downstairs.

Is that all you’re interested in?

She rolled her eyes, ignoring her inner voice. Michael was gorgeous, sweet, and kind. If she were looking for a man, and no, she was not, he would be just the kind of man she’d wish for.

Only, she was fairly certain he didn’t even think about her like that at all. In fact, no one on the crew of above average looking men and one woman seemed to notice Samantha in the least.

She wasn’t conceited. And yeah, she knew she looked different, older, plumper, than before, but she was still her. Still pretty.

That wasn’t conceit, it was fact.

Anyway, none of them seemed to care and not one of the guys glanced at her twice.

Maybe Gary was right, and she was losing her sex appeal.

Oh, fuck Gary. Who cares what he thinks?

Whatever.

She did not have the bandwidth to entertain why Michael or any of his crew didn’t find her worth even glancing at.

She’d thought because he’d called her Sunshine that maybe he was attracted. But apparently not .

Shit. She was being idiotic.

Think about the house.

It might cost a small fortune, but she was going to make this happen. Samantha poured over all the interior design mockups she’d printed from the internet last night.

My goodness , she mused.

Samantha had spent the remainder of yesterday after Michael had left and well into the night, brainstorming what she could do to her house to make it exactly what she wanted.

The fact was, she needed a job to make it happen. Her earnings wouldn’t keep her forever.

Her former modeling agent and her lawyer had both tried to counsel her. They believed all the publicity from her divorce would benefit her greatly if she would only agree to an interview.

And lose all the integrity I have left? No thanks.

Her agent had readily accepted her as a client once again, but Samantha had been firm about her conditions.

She would have nothing to do with her ex-husband.

That included interviews about her former marriage. As far as Samantha was concerned, that chapter of her life was done .

Finito .

Clicking through her email, she snorted. The only offers she had were from a pornographic magazine and a reality show that exploited ex-trophy wives.

Hard pass.

If she couldn’t model, maybe there was something else in Maccon City for her.

But what?

There had to be something she could do to earn a living.

“Ugh. I can’t believe that this is all that’s out there,” she grumbled and banged her head against her hands.

“This is getting me nowhere,” she moaned aloud in the solitary room.

Needing to stretch, she got up and took a stroll through the house. Picking up her checkbook from the kitchen counter, Samantha looked at the recent entries in her balance book.

After what she intended to pay Michael when he arrived today, she would have little funds left.

Crap.

She walked to the back door and slid her feet into her sneakers. A brisk walk in the cool autumn morning was a perfect way to start the day .

Many people wondered if plus-sized models needed to stay in shape. Of course, they did. During the height of her career, Sam had been a size ten and shy two inches of six feet. Hardly plus sized, in her opinion.

Now, she was a size fourteen, okay, more like a sixteen, especially when she ate too much ice cream. So yeah, she gained weight. But her health was good, and she worked hard to maintain balance in her life.

Maccon City really was a pretty town, she mused as she took in the residential streets and smoothly paved roads. The leaves on the trees glittered with dew in the rising sunlight, a million shades of red and gold and green.

Nature held all the real beauty. She felt peaceful here. Happy for the first time in a long time. Money was a problem, but maybe she could do something else.

Maybe getting back into modeling was not what she wanted or needed. It wasn’t even realistic.

She pushed her legs to move faster up the hill of the cul de sac where her house sat. Thirty-five minutes was as good a walk as any.

She felt out of breath and exhausted by the time she reached her driveway, grateful for the privacy on her street and the almost non-existent flow of traffic that morning.

Sam perked up when she saw a familiar pickup truck blocking her Jeep.

“Hello,” she called out and walked around to the back to see what used to be her living room.

Stunned, her mouth hung open. The entire back wall had been knocked out, and the interior was almost already emptied.

A large, red dumpster was parked in the yard. Sam couldn’t believe how quickly this was all happening.

Just then, another truck arrived, and Samantha gasped aloud. Hopefully, it was there to take away the hideous dining room and living room furniture.

She’d emailed the second-hand furniture contact Michael had sent her and after taking pictures and bartering back and forth, he’d made her an offer she could not refuse. Sam just couldn’t wait to get all that old junk out of there.

Whoopee!

“Morning,” Michael’s voice boomed out.

She looked up and almost swallowed her tongue. The man himself stood in the middle of what was left of her living room in tight blue jeans, a white dusty t-shirt, and a sledgehammer in his fist .

His chest was heaving with exertion as he handed the hammer to one of his men and gave instructions in rapid fire Spanish that was beyond her basic high school comprehension.

Holy fuck. He was so hot.

Samantha loved the way he sounded, his voice rough and sexy and in total command. She turned away, lest he should catch her blushing. There was dust liberally scattered about as men in hardhats removed pieces of wood and sheetrock from inside.

“Morning,” she said. “Where is the furniture? I, uh, made plans with that contact you sent me?—”

“Yeah, I know. It’s already being loaded. I had my team bring it all outside before we started.”

“That was quick! I only left for a short walk,” she said, eyes wide.

Michael’s gaze dropped, and she squirmed, rubbing her thighs together in her tight leggings. She’d paired them with a long-sleeved crop top that had a zippered pocket for her phone in case of emergencies. Luckily, there weren’t any.

“You enjoy the walk, Sunshine?” Michael asked, and something about his eyes in the morning light reminded her of an animal’s.

They were more gold than she recalled, and she gasped as he blinked. Holy cow. Back to brown .

“Um, yeah. Thanks,” she squeaked as he moved closer.

“Leaf,” he muttered, plucking a tiny red leaf from her ponytail.

Samantha was mortified. She thought for a second, maybe he was going to do something.

Like kiss her.

But that was crazy.

“Um, I didn’t know you were starting early today. Let me get some water and I’ll help,” she said.

“Okay,” he replied, and she faltered a step before moving on.

That was all he said. Just okay. But still. Michael was not like other men. They usually wanted to humor her or pet her on the head and tell her to go sit and be pretty.

But not him. He took her seriously when she said she was going to do some of the work. He did not seem to mind her efforts to help with the remodeling at all.

And when she did not know how to do something. He showed her how. It was like he knew what she needed.

Ten minutes later, and wearing a t-shirt similar to his, Samantha rejoined him.

“Hey, we’re just about to take down this last wall. Want to make the first hole?” he asked, a grin on his wickedly handsome face.

“Yeah, I do.”

He handed her a heavy sledgehammer, and she almost dropped it. He moved in, closing his hands around hers.

Then, standing right behind her, Michael took her hands in both of his, wrapped them securely around the hammer, and together, they raised it.

“Ready,” he growled near her ear, and shivers danced down her spine. “Hold on tight, Sunshine. The first time it connects you’re really gonna feel it.”

Samantha nodded. The sledgehammer felt heavy and solid in her hands as he moved with her, showing her how to swing the tool.

Samantha licked her lips and stared at the wall. Michael’s arms around her were wreaking havoc with her hormones. Hell. Her ovaries were likely to explode from just the feel of his arms around her.

But she forced herself to ignore that pesky one-sided attraction she felt. A squeak eeked out of her mouth as they made contact with the ugly burgundy painted wall.

“Again,” Michael growled, and she allowed him to guide her one more time .

Two more swings and the wall finally cracked. Samantha felt tears roll down her face.

This was it. The last impediment to her dream house. Pieces of sheet rock had tumbled to the floor. The final wall was no longer intact.

“Hey, come here,” Michael said, dropping the tool and turning her around in his arms.

He moved them quickly past the debris, away from the crew and into the kitchen where they were alone. Sobs wracked her body as more emotion than she allowed herself to feel in years flowed through her.

“It’s down. It’s finally down.” She whispered and hugged him tight to her.

Michael didn’t understand. He couldn’t know that destroying that wall was like knocking down everything that ever stood in the way of her truly living her life.

Everything that had ever made her feel insufficient or just plain bad about herself and her choices.

She’d been knocking down her past with every piece of plaster.

Wrecking every bit of condescension Gary and anyone else had ever inflicted on her.

Every snide remark he’d ever made whether in private or in company .

She no longer had to abide by his rules. Or anyone’s.

No longer had to beg for any hint of affection from the man who’d promised to love and cherish her.

Never again. She would never do that again.

“You’re goddamn right about that,” Michael growled, eyes glowing as he tilted her face up to his.

“Thank you so much, Michael,” she whispered, “You don’t know what this means to me. I’m finally going to have a home of my own. Someplace I’ll truly belong somewhere, not just as a decoration. I know it sounds dumb at my age. And maybe I am. I don’t know?—”

“You’re not dumb, Sunshine. But you are right about one thing. You belong right here. With me.”

“That’s awfully fast,” she whispered and tried to pull back, but he held on tightly, only allowing her to tilt her head back.

She was sweaty from her walk and gritty now after she’d swung that hammer with him.

It shouldn’t have felt so good to be pressed against someone, but this wasn’t just someone.

This was Michael.

And he was telling her something. Something big .

Samantha allowed him to hold her just a little bit longer. Her eyes were locked on his strange ones. Brown then gold, then brown again.

Like magic.

He leaned down and took a deep breath. Like he was inhaling her scent.

She didn’t understand that. Nor did she understand the rumbling growl that seemed to come from him.

“Michael—”

“Fuck, Sunshine, I know it’s too soon. I should wait, but I can’t. Need you.”

Then, her sexy as hell contractor smashed his mouth to hers, and the craziest thing happened next.

Samantha kissed him back.