Chapter 12
Asteroid Fields and Other Dangers
Angie stared up into Sam’s haunted blue eyes.
The way they looked now reminded her of that first day he had appeared next door, all gawky limbs, his face drained of color, apprehension radiating from him like the ripples on a pond after a falling leaf breaks its surface.
She hadn’t even known him, and her heart had ached for the unsure teenager far from home.
His eyes had locked on to hers that day, like a drowning man clinging to a life ring.
Something in him had called to something in her.
Without questioning the force that drove her, she’d mentally unfolded her arms and held them wide to welcome him inside.
He’d been so lost, fragile even, despite being made up of solid bone and sinewy muscle.
And they had become fast friends and stayed that way, despite Brianna sinking her claws into him.
“Maybe we could watch your favorite Star Wars movie?” he ventured.
An array of red lights pulsed inside her like warning beacons. Danger and heartache threatened beyond her defenses. She knew where this would lead, and half of her didn’t want to walk that road again, while the other half yearned to run down it, hoping for a different outcome.
She was older and wiser now. Hurts, betrayals, and disappointments over the years had scarred her once-pristine heart and honed her edges to a razor sharpness.
She no longer held herself open like she had back when she’d first met Sam.
Instead, she had built up a wall of ice to guard and protect her tender feelings.
But it was getting cold and lonely inside her fortress.
Before she could formulate an answer, he ran a finger down her wrist, over the back of her hand. “Or maybe not. I’ll go.”
Her emotions went to war. Could she send him away when he was obviously hurting—hurting because she had brought up his painful memories?
The shadow of that girl whose heartstrings hummed when his soul called out still lived inside her—the way he called out right now.
But could she say yes and walk that tightrope between friendship and giving in to a desire that was growing stronger ever day?
It’s for the best. She swallowed. “Good night, Sam. I’ll see you in therapy in a few days. Call or come by the clinic if the pain gets worse.”
With a nod, he turned slowly on his heel, as if giving her one last chance to invite him to stay. She steeled her spine and watched him shuffle down her walkway, even as fissures formed in her resolve.
Angie showered and slipped on a robe, her spirits knotted and bleak.
Questions and what-ifs clogged her brain, and she couldn’t turn it off for all the circles it continually raced around, like the water from her shower had whirlpooled down the drain.
Her head hurt. She needed the oblivion of sleep, so she poured herself a healthy glass of red wine, settled into the couch with a blanket, and turned on The Empire Strikes Back, hoping the banter between Han Solo and Princess Leia could take her to a galaxy far, far away.
Only minutes into the movie, a sharp knock at her door had her almost dumping the wine on her lap.
She set down her glass, crept toward the front door, and peeked through the peephole.
Her visitor stood hunched on her front stoop, where the porch light threw shadows over his face.
She didn’t need to see it fully to know who waited for her to answer.
Sam looked up at the peephole and gave her a wan smile. “It’s only me, Ange.”
Heart thrashing in her chest, she cinched her robe tight and opened the front door. He leaned in, his arms braced on either side of the door frame, his form filling the opening so it blotted out the street beyond.
“What are you doing here?” she squeaked.
“I brought you something.” He held out a small plastic bag with a logo she didn’t recognize. He had changed from his suit into a dark hoodie over a sage-green T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His hair was a damp, tousled mess that made her fingers itch to straighten it.
She took his offering. “What is it?”
“Bear spray.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You got me bear spray? Tonight?”
“Figured it was an emergency.”
“Bear spray is an emergency?”
“It is when you need it.” His mouth curved slightly at the corners, hinting at that lopsided grin that had a way of liquefying her knees.
Dumbfounded, she stared at the bag a beat before lifting that stare to him. “Oh. Um, thank you?”
His amused expression faded. “Also, you said to come see you if the pain gets worse.”
Befuddled, she glanced down at his ankle. “What’s going on with your ankle?”
“It’s not my ankle, Ange.” Misery veiled his eyes, making her heart wobble behind its fortifications. He flicked his hand toward her TV, which stood on a console at one end of her tiny living room. “Do I hear Han trying to repair the Millenium Falcon?” Optimism lifted his tone.
Breaking eye contact with him for a tick while she regained her wits, she glanced over her shoulder and nodded. “Yes.”
His entire face brightened. “This is the best part! They’re about to figure out they’re stranded in the exogorth’s mouth and it’s going to swallow them.”
She turned back to him. “Not quite there yet.” Now rays of hope danced in his navy blues where sadness had glimmered seconds before, and she couldn’t resist his infectious excitement. It was a scene they’d watched together over and over, and it was, in fact, one of his favorites. Hers too.
Rules and what-ifs be damned. What was wrong with two old friends sharing a moment they’d enjoyed many times before?
“You can come in, but only for this one scene. After that, you’ll have to leave.”
“But that’s the part where they navigate the asteroid field to shake off Imperial warships.
It’s the same sequence!” he protested. He even stuck out his lower lip, which she found infuriatingly cute.
“The way Han pilots the Falcon is so freaking fire! You know it’s true.
You used to go on and on about how badass Han was because of that scene.
I’m pretty sure you had a major crush on him after watching it the first time. ”
Lord, sometimes he knew her too well. Without another word, she surrendered and opened the door, sweeping her hand to the side as she deadpanned, “By all means, come in and watch the space slug and the badass pilot battle it out.”
“Thanks, Ange,” he enthused, reminding her of teenage Sam.
As he brushed past her, his spicy-woodsy smell drifted over her.
The intoxicating scent was all adult-male Sam, and the notion hit her that she might soon be navigating her own perilous asteroid field.
She flipped the lock and followed his fragrance into the living room.
He flopped onto the edge of her small couch, his long legs spread so wide he practically filled the entire thing.
“Make yourself at home,” she muttered. “I’m having wine. Want some?”
His eyes were already glued to the screen. “Sure.”
She returned with the bottle and a wineglass, which she filled before topping off her own. “Um, do you think you could scoot over and make room for me?”
“Sorry. Yeah.”
He moved little more than a few inches, and she nestled into the side of the couch as far from him as she could, hyperaware she wore nothing under the robe.
It was one of those satin-on-the-outside, terry-on-the-inside things they carried in spas, and it hung heavy and cozy on her frame all the way to the floor—like a warm blanket against her skin.
It was her go-to on nights like this, and she debated swapping it for something with more than a tie holding it together.
Except the baggy garment hid more than leggings and a tee would.
If she didn’t wiggle around, it would stay closed and reveal nothing. Yeah, that would work.
He took a sip of wine, seeming to barely register that he did it. “Do you still have a crush on Han?”
“Are you asking me or the TV?”
He slid her a confused look. “That makes no sense. Why would I ask the TV if it’s crushing on a character in a movie?”
“So you were listening.”
“Of course I was,” he grunted. “Can you back it up? I missed what they were saying.”
“You can’t just recite it from memory?” she quipped.
“Been a while.”
She obliged him, and soon her attention, like his, locked on to the screen. They both recited the dialogue verbatim, quietly enough to hear the actors’ delivery.
Fifteen minutes later, she was still riveted, barely registering that Sam was refilling his wineglass and holding up the bottle to her without actually looking at her or her glass. “More?”
“No, I’m good.” The imagined taste of chocolate suddenly filled her mouth, and she rose to fetch some brownies from the kitchen.
Sam sipped his wine. “Where are you going?” Again, he did this without looking at her, and it was so typical of him she nearly burst out with a laugh. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she acknowledged that he was settled in for the duration of the movie, and strangely enough, she didn’t mind.
“I’m on a chocolate run.”
“Great idea. Want me to pause it?”
She glanced at the screen. This bit was too exciting to miss. “Yes, please. I’ll be right back.”
In the kitchen, she hunted for the brownies but came up empty. After stress-baking, she’d had a lot of goodies left, despite giving a bunch away. As she often did when she had a surplus, she’d hidden them. Trouble was, she didn’t always remember where.
Oh, now I remember!
She grabbed a step stool, scaled it, and opened an upper cabinet. She felt Sam behind her before she heard him rumble, “What are you doing?”
“Trying to find a batch of brownies I baked and hid the other night. I gave some to my co-workers and one of my patients, but I stashed the rest somewhere safe so I wouldn’t eat them all. So safe I can’t find them now.”
“What patient?” he demanded.
She turned her head to peer down at him. “How is that any of your business?”
He smoothed the strands at the back of his head. “Just, uh, curious. I mean, was he an athlete, like me?”
She couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Exactly like you, only way more handsome and humble.” In truth, she’d given them to a sweet grandpa recovering from knee replacement surgery.
“You think I’m handsome?” Sam practically crowed.
Holding back a laugh, she rolled her eyes and turned back to grope around in the cabinet.
He came around and stood in front of her. “Hey, why don’t let me do that?” Before she could think to stop him, his big hands glided up the sides of her legs to her hips. His calluses caught on the silky fabric, pulling the robe apart as his hands climbed.
His eyes flared wide, and he dropped the robe and stood back, folding his arms over his chest. “Oops. Didn’t think it’d snag like that. My bad.”
She leveled him with a narrow-eyed glower. “Snag. Right. What did you think you were doing anyway?”
“I was trying to lift you off that rickety stool,” he protested. “How could I know your robe was going to open up like that? Or that you’re not wearing anything under—uh, you should let me do that. I’m taller.”
Even in the kitchen’s dim lighting, the flush heating his face was unmistakable, and it probably matched the one she felt heating her own cheeks. Maybe he hadn’t meant to expose her like that. Honest mistake, right?
“And let you rummage around in my stuff? I don’t think so.
Besides, I could dance a jig on this thing.
” She executed a quick shuffle and nearly toppled.
She grabbed the shelf for balance, pretending she was still searching for the goodies.
“Shoot, they’re not here.” She hastily stepped down from the stool, carefully clutching the bottom of her robe in her fist. He was fighting a grin when her bare feet touched the floor. “What?”
Letting his arms swing at his sides, he sang out, “Nothing.”
God, he was annoying! And God, did he smell good! His scent filled her nose. He looked good too. Downright yummy, damn him. He was all confident masculinity, standing there straight and tall with his stupid broad shoulders and stubble dotting his square jaw. Ugh!
She propped her hand on her hip. “That look says it’s not nothing.”
He stretched out his hands and cracked his knuckles. “I was just thinking back to a time when you didn’t mind me ‘rummaging around’ in your stuff. It’s a fantastic memory, in case you were wondering.” His eyes darkened as he regarded her.
She took up her protective stance, folding her arms over her chest. “I wasn’t, in case you were wondering.”
He nodded, but his lips continued quirking.
A variety of critters skittered in her tummy, causing tingles to spread and heat every inch of her skin.
I really need to get dressed. She stepped to the side and spun so she didn’t have to look at him anymore, roaming her eyes over her cabinets.
Why am I standing here again? Oh, right.
I’m looking for brownies. I’ll find them, give him some, and then I’ll get dressed.
Heat loomed behind her, and her pulse ping-ponged. He lifted a lock of her hair from her shoulder. “Did you just take a shower? Your hair’s damp.” His voice, low and rough, sent a bolt of electricity through her.
She froze. “No. I just ran twenty miles on the treadmill, and that’s sweat.” The lie—and his nearness—was starting to make her actually sweat.
“I don’t believe you.” He ducked his head, his chin hovering above her shoulder, and he took a long pull through his nose. “You smell so damn good.” No part of him touched any part of her, but she was surrounded by a sea of Sam.
She didn’t move for fear of backing into his hard body. “D-don’t you want brownies?”
“Not really feeling food right now.” His heat warmed her back, his scent filled her nose, and his breath caressed her neck. “Ange?”
She grasped the edges of the counter. “Yes?” Her voice was barely a whisper. Though the robe covered every part of her, her skin prickled with the awareness of how very naked she was beneath it.
Then he was touching her. One hand cupped her chin, tilting it up, his palm rough against her skin. The other hand wrapped gently around her throat. His nose nudged a spot below her ear. “I want you so bad I’m about to lose my fucking mind.”
And just like that, she entered that asteroid field and began to tumble, helpless to stop her fall. She prayed she had the badass skills to navigate it without crashing and burning.