Chapter 9 Blythe
BLYTHE
I’m not proud to admit that I’m avoiding Sam.
I don’t even know why. I saw him looking at me in the way someone does when they like what they see and panicked.
Meanwhile, I’d been sitting there while he slept for two hours, looking at him.
Like really looking. I spent an unreasonable amount of time studying the Celtic tattoo on his arm, which, to be fair, took time because it’s massive and highly detailed.
Compared to Maggi, he slept soundly. No talking or sporadic limb movements.
Definitely someone who’d be far more peaceful to sleep next to than my daughter.
And why am I thinking about sleeping next to this virtual stranger?
Because it has been over two years since you’ve been really touched, a voice taunts.
When I finished studying his arm, my eyes moved down to his legs.
Shorts highlighted his defined quads and calves, even at rest. I know he’s not playing rugby professionally anymore.
There were murmurs about his early retirement last night, but he clearly hasn’t let his body go.
I have never been the kind of person to let attraction draw me into a sport, but had I known, I may have joined Eric on occasion to watch.
“Can we go to the forest?” Maggi asks, already pulling me in the direction of the laneway.
Most of the guests took a shuttle to some castle ruins, but I figured Maggi would lose interest in that pretty quickly.
There is plenty around here to occupy a five-year-old but I didn’t think history was really the way to go today.
A long walk after she was stuck on a boat for two hours, yes, absolutely.
Martha offered to stay back, but since she watched Maggi while I watched…
monitored Sam, I politely declined and told her to go have fun.
I hid myself in the foyer while everyone loaded onto the shuttle, Sam included.
Watched as he hesitated and looked around before continuing up the steps.
He seemed better; his colour normal, and his smile easy while he chatted with other guests, not that I was paying too much attention.
As we walk, Maggi starts singing a song, making it up as she goes, incorporating things she sees into it.
Big rocks and little stones. Green trees and sweater bees.
I laugh to myself when she starts pondering whether the bumblebees are hot today in their sweaters.
She stops at a flowering shrub and whispers something I can’t hear before skipping off again, her voice carrying on the light breeze back to where I’m walking at a truly leisurely pace.
We’ve been walking for a while when we come upon the first cottage on the property.
I remember seeing it when we’d driven in for the first time and almost regretting I hadn’t booked one of the three available instead of being in the main house.
But last night as I carried Maggi back to our room, I remembered why I had ultimately decided on staying where most of the wedding was taking place.
“The prince!” Maggi squeals before taking off at a run toward the cottage.
“Maggi!” I call, running after her, cursing my inappropriate footwear as stones slip between my foot and the sole of my sandal.
“Hey, you.” His voice stops me dead. I hadn’t seen him sitting on the bench, but I definitely do as he rises to his full height. “What are you two doing down here?” he asks, leaning on the stone wall that matches the stone of the cottage.
“We’re looking for the good folk,” Maggi states, coming to a stop at the wall and looking up at Sam. “Do you want to come?” she asks without missing a beat.
“Oh, Ro—” I begin at the same time Sam offers an enthusiastic “Sure”, smiling at me as if daring me to say no.
“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” I sigh, stopping next to Maggi, who is focused back on Ness. “Her grandfather got it into her head that if she looks hard enough, she’ll find them.”
Sam glances down at Maggi, and I watch as a crooked grin appears before his brown eyes meet me again. “Nothing worth finding is ever easy.”
I don’t know, I think, finding you was pretty easy. Even though I don’t say it, my cheeks heat, and judging by the way his crooked grin only grows, it didn’t go unnoticed.
Clearing my throat, I reach down and take Maggi’s hand. “Sure you’re feeling up for it? No more nausea?”
Sam shakes his head. “Nope. Someone took very good care of me.” I should look away, but I can’t seem to. He has really nice eyes. That’s the only reason. “So, which way, fellow explorers?”
I’m amazed that this is the same man who, a few short hours ago, was as green as the moss on the cottage roof.
Maggi drops my hand and looks around dramatically, sighing every few seconds, like making this decision is weighing on her heavily. “That way,” she says, pointing to a path that leads away from the forest and through some large boulders.
“After you, princess,” he says, gesturing in a way that matches my daughter’s dramatic energy.
Maggi looks up at me with wide eyes and an even wider smile as if she cannot believe this guy is real. Join the club, kid, I think. The How is This Man Real Club, members Blythe and Maggi.
I’m reminded of the stones in my sandals the minute my attention is no longer zeroed in on Sam, and I’m too slow to stop myself from yelping when a particularly pointy one embeds itself in the arch of my foot.
Maggi whirls around so fast she nearly topples over. “Mommy!” she gasps, running to me.
“It’s only a stone, Roo. Don’t worry. You two keep walking and I’ll—” Before I can finish my sentence, Sam is squatting in front of me and undoing my sandal.
I slip my foot free when he’s done, and he taps the thin leather on his knee, knocking any rogue stones free.
Then he sets it back on the ground and guides my foot back into it.
“You look like Cinderella.” Maggi giggles.
“Cinderella when she’s in the basement, maybe.” I scoff, earning an eye roll that doesn’t bode well for life with teenage Maggi.
I catch a grunt, drawing my attention back to Sam as he kindly does my sandal up. He’s got very nice hair, I notice, taking in the new angle. Thick and lush, and begging for my fingers. Hair I could hold onto tightly while he’s—
“Alright.” Sam stands and claps. “Onward.” He turns from me without a glance, and my entire body flushes with an odd sense of rejection.
What the hell am I expecting? That this man I barely know would be so incredibly attracted to me that he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off me while my daughter waits patiently off to the side? It’s a delusional thought. I’m clearly suffering from an extreme case of jetlag.
I trail behind Maggi and Sam, watching as she looks up at him, babbling away about all the things she’s going to do while we’re here. Sam listens and replies when she gives him an opening, and I’m pretty sure that I could stop walking and neither of them would realize it.