6. Chapter Six #2
I continued to sit there for a long time.
Sam rarely touched me. Okay—never. And I refrained from touching him unless necessary.
We still hadn’t discussed the Christmas party.
The kiss. The epic disaster that had come from it.
Hell, we hadn’t even tiptoed around it. We were both acting like it’d never happened.
Whether that was the right approach or not, I couldn’t say.
I just knew the time would come where we’d have to put our cards on the table.
A constant pull drew me to him. I found him as attractive now as before.
More than physically, though. I enjoyed our chats.
Getting to know him was proving fascinating.
And every admission was like pulling teeth.
Tonight felt like a breakthrough—with his admission of love of art history.
So how can I use that to my advantage? A trip to Los Angeles for certain.
I should plan something for when the kittens are older and can be watched by someone else.
He’d said Mandy was on maternity leave, but would be back.
The problem was, I had no idea when she’d left or how long she’d be gone.
Some companies offered crap benefits and virtually no time off.
I offered a year’s paid leave. Except none of my employees had been pregnant or had a baby.
I also offered generous sick leave—but pretty much no one ever got sick—likely because they all worked from home and, like me, rarely got out.
No, that’s not true. I get out. Just not this week.
I tried to do at least one run a week into Foggy Basin.
That said, Christian had brought a load of groceries for me yesterday.
Noah’s husband worked at the store and had been happy to deliver everything I needed.
That way, I didn’t have to leave if I didn’t want to.
I still thought Sam and I should take a break while between feedings.
Perhaps I could convince him to have a meal at the Blue Star Diner.
Maybe brunch tomorrow? After the ten a.m. feeding? Something to consider.
Cleaning up took little time—I’d learned how to cook with minimal mess and to clean as I went along. I turned on the dishwasher, finished wiping down the counters, and then served two bowls of orange sorbet. Just small scoops.
Sam had let it slip this was his favorite frozen treat, and so asking Christian to bring a container had been a no-brainer.
As I stepped into the great room, he closed the crate door.
I clicked my tongue.
Tibby came to heel and gazed up at me.
“You’re a good girl.”
Sam turned. “Can I give her a treat?”
Tibby pressed against me—clearly understanding I held all the power in this relationship and would be the final arbiter of treat dispensation. I grinned. “Sure.” Then I held up the bowls. “One scoop of orange sorbet.”
His eyes widened and a grin spread across his face. “Really?”
I advanced toward him and handed over the bowl. “Let me get Tibby’s treat that you can give her. And yes, really. Least I can do. You’ve had a rough week.”
At first, I expected him to argue. Instead, he settled back on the couch and picked up the spoon.
I walked back into the kitchen, retrieved a treat from Tibby’s jar, and brought it back into the great room.
Sam put his bowl on the side table and took the treat from me. He held it up.
Tibby came to sit before him and waited patiently.
“Paw?”
She readily handed him her paw. Expectations were clear in this house—she always had to earn the treat. That enabled me to keep up the training in both formal and informal ways.
Sam held the jerky on his palm.
She lapped it up with great gentleness.
My guest sighed. “She really is the perfect dog. You’ve been caring for her and looking out for the kittens.”
“I’ll admit she’s an easy dog. Three walks a day and she’s happy as anything. She’s been good about keeping her distance when I’m taking care of the kittens. And watching them intently when they’ve tried to crawl around in the crate.”
Sam chuckled. Then he scratched Tibby’s ears. “I’ve always known you were a good dog. From the day I met you, I thought now, she’s going to be a special one.”
This time, I laughed. “Oh really?”
“Yep.”
“How could you tell?” Now I was curious. Is he saying this to flatter me, or does he really mean it?
He shrugged. “I have a sense for these things. Even as a puppy, she was more focused on you than her surroundings. She obeyed your commands and was great when she encountered other dogs. I used to look forward to her visits.”
A leaden weight settled in my stomach. I winced. “I’m sorry.”
After a long moment, he met my gaze. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
“Now, we both know that’s not true. I haven’t been into the store since Christmas.”
His eyes widened at the word.
I swallowed. “Can we talk about this? The elephant in the room? Or should I say the Christmas tree?”
He gave me a small smile. Small—but there nonetheless. “There’s nothing to talk about. It just…is what it is.”
“God, I hate that phrase. Because there should always be something that can be done. Is what it is implies that nothing can be altered. I don’t believe that.”
Sam cocked his head. “There are things in life that are unalterable. Take my circumstances. I can’t change things.”
I disagreed with that—but now wasn’t the time. “Look. About Christmas. I apologize.”
He attempted to speak, but I raised my hand.
“Nope, my turn.” I put my melting sorbet on the side table.
“I’m going to be brutally honest—I thought you’d agreed to the kiss.
I honestly believed I had consent. I would never, and I mean never, take what wasn’t freely given.
Seeing how things turned out, I suspect I read the situation completely wrong. ”
Sam swallowed. Visibly. Then he rubbed his head. He did it so often, that last night I’d asked him if he had a tension headache or a migraine. He’d responded he only did that when he was overtired and then he apologized.
I’d made it clear he had nothing to apologize for. Then had promptly ordered him to bed. That he’d complied had let me know just how tired the man really was.
“You—” He cleared his throat. “You weren’t wrong. I wanted that kiss as much as you, apparently. I offered my consent.”
“So then what went wrong?” I replayed the kiss over and over in my mind—as I had so very many times since that night.
He sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“I want to say we have all night, but you really need to go to bed.” Even though I want to demand answers. You just…look so tired.
He shook his head. “No. We need to talk about this. The Christmas tree in the room.” He offered a weak smile, picked up his bowl, and began to eat his sorbet.
I did the same.
And waited.
As patiently as I was capable of.