Chapter Three
By six o’clock, Sam had repaired five window frames, mended Grandma’s rocking chair, and tackled the loose boards on the front porch. Meanwhile, I’d swept, dusted, and vacuumed all the rooms, washed the windows, and scoured the kitchen and bathroom. I was so filthy that I couldn’t have looked less sexy. Sam, on the other hand, resembled a hot lumberjack no matter how sweaty he got. Maybe out of deference to me, he’d put his shirt back on, but it didn’t diminish his appeal one bit.
After taking a quick shower, I got the pasta started and grabbed a jar of homemade pesto from my box of groceries. I tried not to dwell on the fact that Sam was currently using my shower, standing naked under the spray as the water flowed over his muscular body.
True, I’d only known him for eight hours, but his presence had ignited a fire inside of me. A fire that my toxic ex had extinguished after he’d dumped me for someone “richer and hotter” (his exact words). Our breakup had left me so disheartened that I’d been single for over a year. No dating. No hookups. Nothing. But suddenly, I was itching to get back in the game.
Even so, it wasn’t right to objectify Sam.
But when he came into the kitchen wrapped only in a towel, his body glistening with water droplets, it was all I could do not to stare. I forced myself to speak calmly. “Ah… everything okay?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I was wondering if you have a clean shirt I could borrow. Mine’s pretty rank.”
Damn.Seeing as how he was built like a boulder, nothing I owned would fit him. Until I recalled packing an oversized T-shirt in my suitcase. I ran into the bedroom and retrieved it, then paused to take a few deep breaths. So what if I was alone in my cabin with a ripped, half-naked mountain man? I needed to get my hormones under control.
I returned to the kitchen, holding an XXXL Bruce Springsteen concert T-shirt. “Here you go. I got it for a steal because this was the only size left.”
“That’ll do. Thanks.” As he took the shirt, his hand brushed mine, sending electric tingles through me. He went back into the bathroom, and when he returned, he was clad in the same faded jeans as before, along with the T-shirt, which stretched tightly across his broad frame. A little better than being shirtless, but not much.
“What can I do to help?” he asked.
“There’s a bottle of red wine on the counter if you want to open it. Then you can sit back and relax. You’ve done a lot today.” I found a corkscrew in one of the drawers and handed it to him.
“I enjoyed it. Felt good to make so much progress.”
“Thanks for everything. You were a huge help.” I made the mistake of looking up at him, only to flush when he met my gaze with an affectionate smile. Like we were true friends, rather than two strangers who’d only met this morning. As the heat rose in my cheeks, I focused on chopping up the tomatoes I’d gathered from Grandma’s vegetable garden.
Dinner was simple but delicious: linguine with pesto, garlic bread, and a salad. I waited until we were halfway through the meal before I asked Sam the question that was nagging me. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but what do you do when you’re not fixing up old cabins?”
“I started out in carpentry, but now I spend most of my time working as an artist. I create carvings and sculptures from locally sourced wood, and I’ve been in a few galleries.”
All of a sudden, I knew exactly who he was. “Wait. You’re Sam Bennett. You were in a show at Studio 74 in Fresno, right?”
He nodded, but his expression was humble. I couldn’t believe I was sitting across from a world-class artist. He hadn’t just been in “a few galleries,” he’d been the focus of at least three solo shows. His pieces sold for thousands of dollars.
“You’ve seen my work?” he asked.
“Yeah. It’s incredible. I’m an artist, too. Not of your caliber, but….” My throat clogged with shame. Here he was, selling his work to high-end galleries, and I was trying to make a living illustrating picture books. A career my ex and my family had dismissed as childish.
“But what?” His warm brown eyes captured mine. “I saw you bring in a box of art supplies. Are you a painter?”
“I do freelance work in graphic design, but I’m trying to make a go of illustrating children’s books. It’s no big deal.” I gave a little shrug, even though I was incredibly proud of what I’d accomplished.
“Maggie, it’s a huge deal. Think of all those kids looking at your artwork when their parents read them bedtime stories. Sure, some rich guy might buy one of my sculptures and put it in his foyer, but your pictures will touch thousands of children. Do you have any of your books with you? I’d love to see your illustrations.”
His praise made my heart soar. “I could show you some of my mock-ups, but the books haven’t been published yet. My first two will be out next spring.”
“That’s great. I’ll bet your parents are so proud of you.”
“Hardly.” I blew out a jagged breath. “Since they’re obsessed with money, they consider me the failure of the family.”
“And yet, you’re the one who ended up with your grandmother’s cabin. I’d say you did something right.”
His thoughtful words made me swoon. But before I got in too deep, I needed to be sure he was single. “So… um… do you live alone?”
“I do now. Back in October, I built a studio behind my grandpa’s cabin so I could work on my art. I love being surrounded by nature, but it’s a little lonely now that he’s living with my brother. My last girlfriend ended things six months ago. She didn’t appreciate the isolation.”
Last girlfriend. Now there was a promising phrase. “We’re notthat isolated. Kernville’s only twenty minutes away. It’s so gorgeous here that it’s totally worth it.”
“I feel the same way, but she wasn’t willing to budge. What about you—are you planning on moving into the cabin permanently?”
“It depends on whether I can make enough money to support myself.” When his brow creased, I was afraid I’d disappointed him. I flashed him a hopeful smile. “If I can swing it, I’d love to stay up here.”
He held up his wineglass in a salute. “I’d like that.”
Me, too.
After dinner, we cleaned up together, then went into the sitting room. Since Grandma had never owned a TV, I brought out her backgammon board. To my delight, Sam not only knew how to play, but he was also very good at it. After a few games, we sat and talked until the day’s work caught up with me, and my head began to droop.
Sam stood and stretched. “It’s getting late. I should head back to my place.”
For the first time that day, I realized he hadn’t driven over here. “I don’t know if I can get behind the wheel. I’ve had a lot of wine.” Together, we’d polished off the entire bottle.
“I don’t mind walking. I’ve got a flashlight in my toolbox.”
Maybe it was the wine talking, but I spoke up before I lost my nerve. “If you want, you could… um… stay here tonight. With me.”
He gave a rueful shake of his head. “I’d better not.”
I looked away, too humiliated to face him. “Sorry. I think I had too much to drink.”
He crouched down until he was at my level. “Maggie? There’s no need to apologize.”
I forced myself to meet his eyes, only to tremble with desire as he stroked his fingers against my cheek. My breath caught, and I leaned toward him, desperately hoping for a kiss. The heat in his gaze was so palpable I was certain he wanted it as much as I did.
Instead, he pulled his hand away from my cheek. “I’d love to stay, but not yet. I’d like to spend more time getting to know you first.”
I was so stunned by his words that I could barely form a coherent response. “Um… sure. That would be great. I thought maybe you didn’t…”
“Want you? Hell, yes, I want you. But I’m prepared to wait.” He straightened up and grinned at me. “Nothing like a little longing to build up the anticipation.”
With that, he grabbed his toolbox, switched on his flashlight, and took off.
And I was left alone, all but ready to burst into flames.