Goddess Rising (16 page)

“There’s a lot more detail in our paper, which you can get a copy of if you want, but you get the general premise,” Sam finished. “The big idea here is that anyone can become a reliable lie detector, particularly if you know what cues to watch for.”

“And
that
, ladies and gentlemen, is how you present good work,” Professor Hammond finished as she stood and gave them a hand as the class joined in.

Chris caught Sam up in a quick hug.

“Get your dancing shoes on, Sammy,” he whispered into her ear. “Saturday night, it’s you and me, showin’ ’em how it’s done.”

*

September—Early Saturday Night

Sam’s Apartment, College Station, Texas

S A M A N T H A

“So let me
get this straight,” Rita said slowly. “You like this Wesley guy, but you’re going out with the Chris guy, because you two aced a paper together?”

Sam reached into the top of her closet for her hatbox. “A deal’s a deal.” Chris wanted to take her line dancing, so cowboy boots and a cowboy hat it’d be.

“Yeah, but are you even interested in this dude?” Rita asked, her brows knitting. “I mean, aren’t they roommates? Or are you just going out with the Chris guy to make the Wesley guy jealous?”

“No,” Sam denied, pulling out her black Stetson, though she felt a pang of guilt as she said it. She wasn’t using Chris to get to Wes. It wasn’t like that. “I like Wes, but it’s complicated.”

“You like Wes. He likes you. How’s any of that complicated?”

Sam returned to her closet, picking through the row of jeans and t-shirts and sweaters, half-wondering what to wear out of her fairly generic line-up and half-avoiding Rita’s knowing eyes.

“I’m not trying to make Wes jealous,” Sam answered, thumbing through the hangers.

“Then what are you trying to do?”

Sam shrugged a little. “I guess I’m kind of trying to avoid him.”

“Kind of?” Rita pressed doggedly.

“Jesus, Rita!” Sam sighed in exasperation as she tossed a couple shirts on the bed. “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

Rita sat up on the bed and crossed her arms—a sure sign she was about to light into a speech. “One, you’re avoiding this Wes guy, and I want to know why. Two, you’re going out with this Chris guy even though it’s pretty obvious you just see him as a friend, and three, are you
seriously
going to go dancing in this shit?” she asked hotly, pointing at the clothes Sam was tossing on the bed. “You are the only chick I know who dresses
down
to go out with guys!” Rita said picking up Sam’s t-shirts. Sam struggled to snag them back, but Rita sat back on her haunches, holding the offending shirts high up in the air.

“
See?
This is how I know you’re not into Chris,” Rita declared, waving the shirts around. “If you were into this dude, you wouldn’t be picking between crewneck and boat neck. You’d be picking between lacey and strapless—”

“Give me that—” Sam lunged for the shirts.

Rita laughed, scrambling back. “Not until you tell me why you’re avoiding
chico guapo
!”

“Dammit, Rita!”

“You better tell me,
jaina
,” Rita cooed. “You know Jesus hates a liar!”

“Jesus couldn’t care less what I wear tonight, and you know it,” Sam sassed, hands on her hips. “If I’d known you were going to be such a giant pain in my ass, I’d have never invited you over to help me get ready.”

“You invited me over because you know you’re absolutely hopeless when it comes to dressing yourself for the opposite sex,” Rita pointed out. “And because you’re dying to tell me why you’re going out with Chris when you really want Wes to be the guy who tries to take you home tonight.”

“That’s not true.”

“Bull crap, it’s
absolutely
the truth,” Rita snorted. “Now spill.”

Sam tossed her hands up in exasperation. Rita wasn’t going to let up, and they both knew it. Besides which, her friend was more than a little right. But Sam already knew what she was going to say—Rita was going to tell her exactly what she would do in her place, which was drop poor Chris like a bad habit and go after Wes like her pants were on fire.

But Sam just wasn’t like Rita. Not by a long shot.

“I don’t trust Wes,” she confessed after a moment.

Rita blinked back in confusion. “Why not?”

“He’s—I don’t know…” Sam trailed off, rubbing her brow. “He’s wily.”

Rita’s mouth curved into a slow grin. “And
that’s
bad?”

“And he’s kind of slutty.”

Rita’s brows rose.

“And he’s sort of cocky,” Sam continued, though her protests sounded weak to her own ears.

“I’m waiting for you to get to the really bad stuff,” Rita drawled, unconvinced. “Most of us prefer guys with some
cajones
—so go on.”

“And he makes me uncomfortable,” Sam finally admitted, chewing her lip.

Understanding dawned in Rita’s eyes. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Sam shifted on her feet. “Wes is more trouble than he’s worth.”

“Or you’re worried he’s more trouble than you know how to handle,” Rita surmised, crossing her arms with a knowing smile. “And you’re not sure you know what to do with this guy because with Wes, you don’t think you have the upper hand.”

Sam debated arguing the point, but she figured she might as well come clean. “I look at Wes, and I can’t help but wonder what the heck he sees in a girl like me—”

Rita looked startled. “What the hell do you mean,
a girl like you?”

“Come on, Rita—I’m not the sort of girl a guy chases after,” Sam replied, turning back to her closet. “I know that. I’m a tomboy, I dress like—well, you said it. And I’ve seen the slutty bimbos Wes goes after. He dates the kinds of girls who are about a thousand times more likely to put out.” Sam pulled out a jean skirt and her favorite black cowboy boots. “So that leaves only a couple reasons he’s remotely interest in me: I’m a challenge and I’m rich. What else is there?”

“
What else is there?”
Rita asked, incredulous. “Jesus Christ, for a smart girl, Sammy—you sure are a stupid bitch.”

Sam shot her a look.

Rita shook her head. “Sam, you really have no idea, do you?” she asked in consternation. “You’ve got a wicked sense of humor, you’re easy to get along with, and you’re freaking hot, despite the fact that you wear the most boring outfits possible. And yeah, you just happen to be a challenge because you require more than a wink and smile to get into your pants. So what guy
wouldn’t
want to go out with you?”

Sam remained quiet.

“
Jaina
, you can’t seriously be worried about the money,” Rita continued. “Because even if this Wes dude is a gold digger, it’s not like he needs to sign a prenup or something to get to first base with you, right? I mean Jesus—when you gonna live a little?”

“I
live
,” Sam protested.

“Sam, you went on four dates last year. I counted,” Rita pointed out. “That’s like…so incredibly sad for a hot freshman girl. And now you’re going into your sophomore year already ass-backwards.”

“I don’t want to be used,” Sam countered.

“Well, hell, honey—none of us
want
to be used,” Rita replied, tart. “But maybe it’s not about that, huh? Maybe it’s about going out with someone who makes you feel all hot and bothered and living to gossip about it the next day. What’s wrong with just going out and having fun?” Rita crossed her arms and sat back. “But if you’re really worried about who’s using who, isn’t that what
you’re
doing tonight?”

Startled, Sam caught her eyes. “What?”

“Aren’t you using Chris to ‘Wes-proof’ yourself?” Rita pointed out.

“That’s
not
what I’m doing,” Sam insisted. “I just don’t need any added complications right now—and Chris is just easy and fun to be around. He’s playful and light-hearted—”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Rita interrupted, sitting back.

Sam chewed on her lip. Count on Rita to call her out.

“Sounds to me like you’re going for light and easy when you really want complicated, wild, and sexy,” Rita observed, twirling one of Sam’s shirts idly.

“It’s just a date, Rita,
damn,
” Sam finally answered, though her friend was admittedly hitting a little too close to home. “I figured you’d be happy. You’re always on my ass about getting out more.”

“Well, that is true,” Rita agreed reluctantly. “Just please promise me that you’ll let your hair down a little, okay? I mean, why’s everything got to be so serious all the time?”

“I’m not serious
all
the time.”

“Uh, yeah—you kinda are,” Rita replied, tossing her a black tank top. “Wear this tonight with that jean skirt!”

Sam looked at the thin black top a little dubiously. “It’s a little tight,” she said, uncertain.

“Exactly,” Rita replied with a saucy little smile. “This guy’s tongue will be hanging halfway out of his mouth before you even get out the car. You may be with the wrong guy tonight, but if you’re gonna do it, might as well go all out.”

Sam held up the top, not recognizing it. “Is this even mine?”

Rita winked. “It is now.”

*

September—Saturday Night

Dukes, College Station, Texas

W E S L E Y

“I like it,
I love it, I want some more of it!”

Wes watched the band belt out the Tim McGraw cover as the crowd boozing by the bar shouted along to the chorus. Dukes was packed, with dozens of couples all
boot-scoot-n’-boogying
in a wide circle around the large dance floor. Dukes was the kind of big honky-tonk that packed a solid crowd of college kids and locals on a weekend night, everyone looking to let loose a little, usually to a good live band.

“There you are!”

Wes turned, recognizing the voice of one of his friends. He watched in amusement as Ty Burrell pushed his way through the crowd toward him, his left arm in a cast and his right arm holding a beer stein nearly as big as the cowboy hat on his head.

“What the hell happened to you?” Wes asked.

“Met the wrong side of the bull,” Ty replied with a quick grin.

“Those rodeos are gonna be the death of you,” Wes laughed.

“Hey, gotta get all this shit outta my system before I get my ass shipped off to basic training in June, right?” Ty answered, sipping his beer.

“That’s right,” Wes murmured. “You’re going into the Marines next year, aren’t you?”

“Yup!” Ty nodded, eyes snagging on someone in the crowd. “
Oooh-wee
, what a fox!” he exclaimed before his eyes widened in surprise. “
Holy shit
, I don’t believe it!”

“What is it?” Wes turned to look out at the dance floor.

“Sam Wyatt,” Ty replied. “I’ve only ever seen her in ROTC uniform.
Damn
, that girl cleans up good!”

Wes craned his neck, unexpected excitement buzzing through him as he looked for her. They hadn’t talked since he’d seen her at the bar, and he’d been wanting to find another excuse to see her again.

Suddenly, Wes spotted Chris’s large frame passing by. He was wearing his favorite blue jeans, a plaid shirt, and what could have been a 10-gallon white hat. He had his arm around Samantha as they two-stepped past the bar, and Wes could absolutely see why Ty looked a little dazzled. Sam was drop-dead gorgeous tonight, her long hair in waves down her bare shoulders. Her black cowgirl hat didn’t quite hide her grin as she sailed by, oblivious of her admirers as she laughed up at Chris.

Wes’s hand tightened on his beer.
Shit
, it should be him she was with, but Chris had gotten to her first. Wes’s mood darkened as he watched Chris snap her out in a fast twirl, tightening his arm at just the last second to bring her back into his arms. When Wes caught a load of her short denim skirt, and her tanned, lithe legs tucked in black cowgirl boots, he nearly swallowed his tongue.

“Lord, she’s so pretty, I’d rather watch her dance than eat a bucket of fried chicken,” Ty hooted. “Get a load of those legs! Where the hell has she been hiding those?!”

Wes found his voice as the gliding crowd swallowed them up. “You know her from ROTC?”