For Sam: A new-girl small town cowboy romance

Chapter 11 Sam

How can I be so comfortable and so stressed out at the same time?

Tommy feels like heaven and smells even better. He probably shouldn’t smell good after wolfing down twelve hot wings in a bar that, unsurprisingly, smells like fried food. There’s a little bit of that lingering on him, but the cedar and mint combination is coming through tenfold with my cheek resting against his chest.

Well, it’s on his right pec, to be specific.

Now I’m wondering what this pec looks like.

And his whole torso… and back.

Who am I kidding? I want to know what this man looks like in his birthday suit.

And for once, I’m thinking there’s a chance, because this feels like a date.

I don’t think I talked him into anything. Did I?

No, Tommy’s got the biggest heart, but he wouldn’t do something he wasn’t comfortable with.

I let out a little sigh as his fingers lightly trail from my elbow to my shoulder and back down, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Looking down at our hands, I realize that mine isn’t sweaty. For all that my brain is wondering about what the heck we’re doing, and not doing, something with Tommy soothes me. And turns me on. Especially since I can feel his abs. He’s not flexing or anything like that, but they’re definitely there.

From years of working on the ranch…throwing bales of hay, riding horses, moving feed, and who knows what else.

We shift every now and then, and I pull my feet up onto the sofa, but things are easy and unpressured. And then the movie ends and I realize I have no plan or protocol for what comes next.

“So?” Tommy asks.

So, what? So are we going back to my room? So what now? So…nice to see you?

“Um,” I begin, totally unsure how to tell what I was thinking he might have meant.

“What’d you think?” he asks, nodding toward the rolling credits.

I let out a nervous laugh. Of course that’s what he was wondering.

“Where’d your mind go?” he asks, amusement sparkling in his eyes as I sit up so I can face him.

We disentangle and I run both hands down my face, groaning.

“It was really cute,” I tell him, attempting to avoid his second question.

He pulls my hands away from my face. “Please don’t feel like you have to hide, not from me.”

There’s a gentle command in his eyes. But I still feel like I have complete control of the situation. How the hell does he do that?

“No hiding, I can do that. But you might have to remind me every now and then,” I tell him.

His eyes soften and he smiles. “I can keep that in mind. But I should get going, it’s technically past my bedtime.”

That answers the bedroom question.

“Of course, same here.” As if I’m going to fall asleep after he leaves. My head is already spinning.

Tommy grabs the glasses in one hand and the snacks in the others. I stare for a moment. He has some big hands.

And now I’m thinking about what else might be comparable in size as he walks to the kitchen.

Man, he has a cute butt. Especially in those jeans.

“You can just—”

“Truth or dare,” he says, cutting me off.

Narrowing my eyes at him because I don’t know where this is going, I take the brave route. “Dare.”

“I dare you stand there and let me put this all away.”

My mouth falls open as I take a breath to speak. But nothing comes out.

Tommy looks smug and watches me.

The only sound I make is a pathetic squeaking one because my brain is not sure that it processed his last statement correctly.

“Do you accept?” he asks.

At least his prompting pushes my brain into an automatic response. “Yes.”

“Excellent,” he says, looking at the bottom of the glasses. “Dishwasher safe. Do you hand-wash these anyway?”

I shake my head. What is this man up to?

He opens the dishwasher and I groan because it’s half-full. Which means dirty dishes. He’s seeing my leftovers.

It’s not like he’s rifling through my dirty clothes, I remind myself.

Tommy pulls out the top rack, placing the glasses next to the three already there. He leaves the same amount of space between each one as I did and puts his hand on the end of the rack to push it in and pauses.

I look up and find his eyes on me.

“What are you going to change?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“When I leave, are you going to move these into a different place?” he clarifies.

“Actually, no.”

“Okay,” he says, closing the dishwasher until it clicks. He reaches for the cracker box, with those big hands of his, on the counter. Instead of grabbing the bag right away, he looks inside the box for a moment and gently unfolds it. He pours the crackers back into the bag, refolds it just as it was, and closes the box. The mixture of attraction and confusion at what I’m witnessing is unbelievable. No one has ever done anything like this before.

“Would you like to point to the cupboard where these belong or do I get to explore?” he asks.

This is the most bizarre dare I’ve ever experienced. I’m sure that Tommy would be incredibly amusing while trying to locate the right spot, but my hand has a mind of its own and points to the one next to the fridge. Half a heartbeat later, he’s looking inside and setting the box in the one open space.

“What will you change when I leave?” he asks.

“That box sits on its side because it’s easier to see the flavor from the top flaps.” I cringe. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s better to keep those quirks quiet.

“Ooh, smart.” He tips the box over and pushes it back in.

What? That’s his response? Nothing about me being neurotic like my ex said?

As my brain tries to go down a rabbit hole, Tommy already has his face in the fridge. The door shuts and he pours the blueberries gently into their container.

“I don’t think I need any pointers for where this goes.” And he winks at me.

About blueberries.

Actually, he winks at me about putting blueberries properly away in my fridge.

Oh my, I have never been more attracted to another person in my entire life.