Chapter Two Sarah #2
At the abrupt end of the call, tears stung my eyes. At the emotions twisting and turning within me, I slammed my palm into the steering wheel and screamed, “FUCK!”
Since I was less than five minutes from Sammy’s, I clenched my teeth and willed myself to get control of my emotions. Practicing what I preached to clients, I recited, “I see a red light. I see a police car. I see a god of a man running in ridiculously short shorts.”
My drama was momentarily forgotten as my hungry gaze raked over the runner’s toned back and muscular thighs. Shaking my head, I huffed out a disgusted breath to get back on track.
“I can hear a car horn down the street. I can hear a muted Taylor Swift song on the radio.” The god in running shorts flashed in my mind. “I can hear my skin slapping against that fine man’s thick thighs as I ride him hard.”
I roll my eyes at my lust-filled thoughts. “Let it go, Sarah,” I mumble to myself. Lamenting on my lack of a relationship and horniness wasn’t going to get me anywhere today. Not when I was already at rock bottom.
After pulling into Sammy’s driveway, I eased up behind the group home’s van. I grabbed my bag out of the back–the one that held a gift for Sammy– and then started up the walkway.
Before I could even ring the doorbell camera, the door flung open, and Sammy’s beaming face framed by dark curls stared back at me. “Hiya.”
His infectious happiness sent a smile curving on my lips. “Hi, Mr. Sweetface.”
Launching himself at me, he wrapped me in a bear hug. Each and every time he hugged me, he treated it like it had been months, not a week, since he’d seen me. Not to mention, we Facetimed or texted almost every day.
After squeezing me tight, he pulled back and cocked his brows. “Did you bring me something?”
“Don’t I always?”
He clapped his hands with glee before thrusting his hand into the bag on my shoulder and making a mad grab for the item at the bottom. “Oomph, Sam. Can’t you wait for me to get it out?”
“Nope,” he replied with a maniacal laugh.
Instead of fighting him, I let him dig out the Batman-themed measuring cup. “Oh wow, it’s big,” he remarked.
With a smile, I said, “This one is the cup size. Now you have the whole set of measuring cups.”
For the last month, I’d divided up a set of Batman measuring cups that I’d had a friend hand paint. Sammy adored all things Batman. His bedroom was a shrine to the character. Lately, I’d had to become more creative with my presents, so they fit in nicely with his new cooking interest.
“Thanks, Sarah,” he said.
As I kissed the top of his head, I replied, “You’re welcome, Mr. Sweetface.”
Grabbing my hand, he tugged me into the house. “Sarah’s here!” he called.
I grinned at the cacophony of Sammy’s roommate's footsteps thundering from different directions in the house. Quint, Jason, and Kyle all came rushing into the foyer at once. Like Sammy, they were all in their early twenties.
“Hey guys,” I said.
Since the other guys’ families lived further away, I’d become an unofficial sister to each of them. My weekly presence also helped to limit the supervised hours they needed with staff checkins.
It certainly wasn’t a hardship spending one night a week with them. It didn’t hurt that they were all sweethearts. I was so thankful Sammy had been blessed with such a good group of roommates.
As they crowded around me for a group hug, a laugh bubbled from my lips. “I guess that means you’re glad to see me, huh?”
Kyle pulled back to pin me with a curious expression. “Did you bring us cupcakes?”
“Don’t I always?” After giving Sammy the stink-eye, I replied, “But they’re probably smushed after the way Sammy went about getting his present.”
While Sammy only giggled again, Kyle reasoned, “They’ll still taste good.”
“I hope so.”
Trying to change the subject, Sammy grabbed my hand and tugged me into the dining room. The table was set, and the delicious aroma of lasagna wafted through the air. “Hmm, something smells good,” I said, as I took my regular seat at the head of the table.
Sammy beamed. “It’s a new recipe.”
“He’s been working on it all day,” Quint grumbled.
As I placed a napkin in my lap, I glanced at Quint. “Was he hogging the kitchen again?”
Quint jogged his chin back and forth. “I could barely get in for tea time.”
Sammy rolled his eyes. “You have a setup in your room.”
With an indignant huff, Quint replied, “It’s only a Keurig. I can’t properly steep the tea leaves in my bedroom.”
“Oh brother,” Kyle muttered as he passed me the bread basket.
After taking a piece, I pinned Sammy with a look. “Samuel John Whitfield, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“It was a new recipe,” he argued.
Shaking my head, I replied, “You should share.”
“Fine,” he grunted before stuffing a bite of lasagna in his mouth.
“After dinner, I think it’s only fair you handle the dishes while Quint makes the two of us a lovely cup of tea.”
While Quint beamed, Sammy reluctantly nodded. After taking a bite of my lasagna, I moaned in appreciation. “This is better than Mom’s.
And with those simple words, I made Sammy’s week, and his smile made mine.