Chapter 10
We step out of the stall, boots crunching in straw, the cold air rushing over my overheated skin like a slap of reality. The scent of hay cuts through the haze we were wrapped in only moments ago.
Sam’s hand brushes mine as we walk, and even though we don’t touch again, the ghost of it lingers like a promise.
Phern’s at the far end of the barn, crouched near a beam that's cracked clean through and sagging just above one of the far stalls.
“I was bringing in a fresh water bucket when I heard the pop,” she says, glancing back at us.
Sam’s expression hardens instantly. Gone is the easy smirk, the slow drawl. He moves with purpose now, stepping past me and crouching beside the beam with practiced precision.
“Support’s rotted out,” he mutters. “Snow must’ve pushed too much weight on the roof.”
“Think it’s safe for now?” I ask, stepping up beside Sam, my eyes scanning the cracked beam .
“No,” he says flatly, voice low and certain. “But there’s not much we can do until the snow’s done.”
He exhales, frustration flickering across his face. “The horses should be okay for now. We'll keep the door open so they can move in and out, but we’ll have to monitor that beam.”
Phern crosses her arms. “I’m not going to point out that I said I was afraid this would happen.”
Sam glances at her, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”
She smirks, unbothered. “I said I wasn’t going to. Totally different.”
Despite the tension thick in the air, Sam’s lips twitch into a smile, and something soft unfurls in my chest. He’s standing there, hands braced on his hips, snow clinging to his coat, barn creaking ominously overhead and he still has room for teasing.
I can’t help but compare it to someone else. If Kurt were here, I think, he’d be yelling. Blaming someone. Anyone. Making it worse. That’s who he was. Who he always turned into when things got hard.
But Sam?
He’s calm. Present. Kind. Even now.
And that slight difference?
It feels huge.
Like something I didn’t know I was starved for until this moment.
“Not much more we can do,” Sam says, his breath clouding in the freezing air. “Let’s head back to the main house.”
Before I can move, he reaches out and grabs my hand.
Phern lifts a brow, watching the motion with sharp interest .
Before I can come up with some casual, noncommittal excuse, Sam just tugs me along like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal.
Outside, the wind has picked up. Heavy snowflakes swirl through the air, blinding and biting. The barn vanishes behind us within a few steps, swallowed up by white.
I shiver and move closer, drawn by instinct. He doesn’t hesitate, just shifts slightly, shielding me from the wind as best he can with his body.
“Bet you’re glad you’re not stuck in that Prius right now,” he says, raising his voice over the wind.
I snort, teeth chattering. “No doubt about that. Although the seat warmers were nice.”
“You’ve got me now,” he teases, squeezing my hand gently. “Human seat warmer. Limited edition.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.
We trudge through the snow together, the ranch muted under a blanket of white. I can barely see ten feet in front of me, but Sam knows exactly where he’s going.
Once the main house comes into view, its windows glowing like a beacon, he says, “Once everything settles down, we’ll use the satellite phone to call into town. Get everything squared away with your car. Your stuff.”
“Thanks,” I say, glancing up at him.
He looks down at me, snowflakes caught in his lashes, his cheeks pink from the cold.
“No need to thank me, darlin’.”
And the way he says darlin’—soft, certain, like it’s not just a nickname but a promise—warms me from the inside out.
Phern rushes past us up the steps, muttering something about hot tea and frozen toes as she disappears into the house .
Sam waits until the door clicks shut behind her before leaning in, his body blocking the wind, his hand still wrapped around mine. Then, without warning, he dips his head and brushes his lips against mine. The kiss barely lasts a heartbeat, but it leaves me breathless.
“One more question?” he murmurs, voice warm despite the chill.
I nod, my breath catching in my throat.
Sam’s mouth curls into that slow, sinful smile I’m beginning to crave.
“Alright,” he says, brushing a snowflake from my cheek with his thumb. “What’s your favorite position?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”
He shrugs, all easy charm and devilish innocence. “You said one more question.”
I try to glare at him, but my grin betrays me. “That’s private.”
“Oh, now you’re shy?”
I lean up on my toes, close enough for my lips to just barely graze his. “I like being on top.”
His breath hitches, and that playful glint in his eyes turns downright wicked.
“Careful, Charlie,” he murmurs. “Keep talkin’ like that, and I can’t promise to be a gentleman.”
I press one more kiss to the corner of his mouth, then tug the door open and step into the warmth of the house with a smug little smile.
“Maybe I don’t want you to be a gentleman,” I toss over my shoulder.
The blast of heat from the fireplace greets me the second I step inside, the scent of wood smoke curling around the air. My cheeks are flushed and not just from the cold, but from the look Sam gave me just before I walked in .
He follows a beat later, brushing snow from his shoulders, that wrecked groan still echoing in my ears.
“You’re gonna be hell on my self-control,” he mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.
I toss him a look over my shoulder. “That’s the idea.”
From the living room, Phern calls out, “If you two are done flirting in the snow, I made cocoa.”
Sam leans closer, voice low. “You’re lucky she walked in when she did.”
I grin, pulling off my coat. “Am I?”
His eyes darken again, but this time there’s something else mixed in. And it hits me low and deep. This isn’t just playful. It’s building. It’s real.
He helps me out of the last stubborn sleeve, fingers brushing mine.
I glance up at him.
He looks like he’s one step from kissing me again.
And if it weren’t for the sound of Phern banging mugs around in the kitchen, I think he would’ve.
Instead, he steps back, clears his throat, and says, “Come on, Charlie. Let’s get warm.”
And the way he says my name?
Yeah. I’m already on fire.
I lean back, tugging Sam gently by the arm, bringing him to a stop just inside the foyer. His body’s still humming with tension, barely holding the line between restraint and something far messier.
“One more?” I murmur, lips barely brushing his.
Heat flashes in his eyes like a spark caught dry. “Fuck. Yes.”
I smile, wicked and soft all at once. “It’s not a question,” I whisper, pressing close, “but a statement.”
His brow lifts, breath held .
“My panties,” I breathe against the shell of his ear, “are wrecked.”
He exhales so hard it’s almost a growl.
“Fuck, Charlie. I think I can help with that,” he rasps, voice wrecked and low, hands hovering like he’s one second away from pinning me to the wall.
I step back with a grin. “Oh really? Such a gentleman.” Then I raise my voice, sweet as sugar. “Be right there, Phern!”
Sam’s jaw flexes like it physically hurts him to let me go. His fingers twitch at his sides. His eyes track every inch of me like he’s memorizing it for later.
And the way he looks at me? It says he will help with that. Eventually. When that time comes, I’m going to let him.
We meet Phern in the kitchen, the air thick with the scent of chocolate, cinnamon, and something rich and comforting. She slides two oversized mugs across the counter with practiced ease.
“Thanks,” I say, wrapping my hands around mine. I take a sip and nearly moan. “Oh wow. This is really good.”
Phern gives me a rare, pleased smile. “Thanks. It’s my recipe.”
“You’re very talented.”
“Well,” she says, taking a seat on the other side of the island, “you have to have something out here to occupy your time.”
I nod slowly, but when I glance at Sam, his gaze is already on me. The corner of his mouth lifts, and heat creeps up my face.
Yeah.
I can think of a few things that might keep me occupied out here .
Phern leans back in her chair, sipping her cocoa. “Thank god none of my papers are due while the Wi-Fi is out.”
“What are you in school for?” I ask, genuinely curious.
She shrugs a shoulder. “Undecided.”
Sam scoffs. “Don’t let my baby sister fool you. She already has a master’s in business and is working toward her PhD.”
Phern gives him a look, but there’s no real bite to it. “Yeah, well. Some people cope with grief by moving to Nashville. I went to grad school.”
The room goes quiet for a beat, the weight of her words settling gently between us.
Sam doesn’t flinch. Just looks at her with something quiet in his eyes. Understanding. Respect. Maybe a little guilt.
And I realize in that moment how much history I’ve stepped into. How deep it runs here. And how easy it would be to fall straight into it, too.
Especially when Sam’s thigh brushes mine and stays there.
We all make small talk, getting to know each other until our drinks are gone.
Phern rinses her mug in the sink and says, “I’m going to read my next chapter and then take a nap.”
Sam says, “A nap sounds great. Perfect weather for it.”
She waves and disappears down the hall.
“Nap?” I echo. “I can’t remember the last time I took a nap.”
“Oh, darlin’, I can promise we won’t be doing much sleepin’ if we go to my room right now.”
Heat rushes through me like a wildfire.
“Is that so? ”
“It is.” He moves closer. “Seems there’s some clothing you might need some help getting off.”
“Getting off,” I hum. “What a good idea.”
I hold out my hand and he takes it. Our pace is slow and measured as we walk down the hall toward his room.
“Where is Phern’s room?” I ask as we reach his door.
“Other side of the house.”
“Thank god.”
His lips twitch. “That’s why we have locks, darlin’.”
“Oh, it’s not that.” I step into the room. “I just get real loud in the bedroom.”