9. Samuel
CHAPTER NINE
Samuel
Bowling wasn’t my thing.
Not because I was bad at it. I wasn’t. I had a decent arm, enough control to avoid completely humiliating myself.
But the whole spectacle of it? The town coming together every Thursday night like this was some kind of national event?
That was what always got me.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like community—I owned a damn restaurant in the heart of Medford, after all—but something about these nights brought out the competitive side of everyone in town.
And tonight?
Tonight was going to be a war.
“The firehouse boys are already talking shit,” Adam said, dropping onto the bench beside me as I laced up my bowling shoes. “Jaxon said he’s gonna wipe the floor with us.”
I smirked. “He says that every week.”
“And every week, he backs it up,” Kai pointed out, crossing his arms as he surveyed the lanes.
The firehouse team—Jaxon, Ryan, Colt, and Nate—were already warming up, laughing and clapping each other on the back like they had this in the bag.
Then there was the police team, Frank Davis and Bryan Hall standing with their arms crossed, watching the competition unfold with knowing grins.
The Grady brothers were here too, along with Aurora, and from the way they were sizing up the lanes, they had every intention of putting up a fight.
But the real wildcard?
The lumberjacks.
“Since when do the damn lumberjacks bowl?” I muttered, watching Garrett Wolfe roll his shoulders like he was about to step into a boxing ring.
Kai huffed out a quiet laugh. “Since Asher heard there was a cash prize at the end of the year.”
I looked over at Asher, who was leaning against the ball return, grinning like he’d already won.
His brother Beckett, on the other hand, stood a little apart from the crowd, arms crossed, expression stoic.
Typical.
Just as I lined up my shot and gripped the bowling ball, the noise in the alley shifted.
A ripple of attention pulled toward the entrance, murmurs passing between the crowd like a slow-building wave.
I kept my focus on the pins, blocking it out.
Didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered except nailing this frame.
Jaxon had already thrown a strike, and I wasn’t about to let that cocky bastard get ahead.
I exhaled slowly, set my stance, and just as I stepped forward…
Adam let out a low whistle.
“Damn, sugar, you clean up nice.”
My grip faltered.
My step stuttered.
And then, like some cruel, slow-motion disaster, my wrist twisted just enough to send the ball veering wildly off course.
It smacked into the gutter with a heavy thud.
Silence.
Then a burst of laughter from Jaxon.
“Well, damn,” he called out. “Didn’t know you were the type to choke under pressure, Samuel.”
I ground my teeth, slowly turning toward the source of my distraction.
And there she was.
Sadie.
I had seen her every damn day for the past few weeks.
I’d watched her hold her own in the kitchen, spar with Adam, and roll her eyes at Kai’s quiet smirks.
I had seen her hair tied back, sleeves rolled up, sweat beading at her temples as she worked beside us.
But this?
This was something else.
Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She wasn’t in her usual jeans and tee, but a fitted little number that hugged her curves in a way that made my jaw tighten. She had sleek heeled boots on, and her lips were painted some deep shade I didn’t have the words for.
It hit me all at once.
And from the smug look on Adam’s face, he fucking knew it.
“She’s here for us, by the way,” Adam said, way too pleased with himself. “Thought it’d be fun to have a little moral support.”
Moral support.
Yeah. Right.
Sadie’s gaze swept the room before landing on me. Her lips twitched.
“You okay, Samuel?” she asked, all innocent-like. “That was a rough shot.”
Jaxon chuckled. “Yeah, maybe you need to sit this round out, man. Regain your composure.”
I rolled my shoulders back, straightening. “I don’t sit rounds out.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
The rest of the teams were watching now, eating this up.
The Grady brothers looked amused, Aurora was smiling behind her hand, and even Beckett Wolfe—the human embodiment of a thundercloud—had the hint of a smirk.
I turned back to Adam. “You invited her.”
He grinned. “I sure did.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose, leveling him with a glare before looking at Sadie again.
She just raised a brow, waiting.
Fine.
I stepped back to grab my ball, schooling my expression as I lined up another shot. This time, I blocked everything out.
Adam’s smugness.
Jaxon’s taunts.
Sadie’s goddamn everything.
I took the shot.
Strike.
The room erupted in cheers, and I turned back to Jaxon, smirking. “Guess I just needed a warmup.”
Jaxon groaned. “Oh, it’s on now.”
I tried to keep my focus on the lane, but it was useless. I could feel her. Like the pull of gravity. Like the hum of a live wire just beneath my skin.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed, either.
Kai had been standing near the bar, drink in hand, relaxed. But the second Sadie walked in, his expression shifted.
His fingers tightened around the glass, his jaw ticking as his gaze flicked over her, like he knew her in a way that no one else did.
I knew Kai. I knew his tells, the little cracks in his composure that most people never noticed.
And right now? Right now, he was fighting… well, I wasn’t sure what.
I’d suspected for a while that he and Sadie had history. There was an easiness between them, a shorthand that spoke of years rather than weeks.
And he called her ‘S’ like they’d a great bond. But they never talked about it. Not openly. Not in a way that gave me any real answers.
I didn’t want to push.
Not when I had my own little secret… our night in The Medford Inn.
The way she’d looked at me in the dark, her guard slipping just enough for me to see her rawness underneath.
I rolled my shoulders, forcing my grip to relax around the ball in my hand.
Now wasn’t the time for this shit. I had a game to finish, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to embarrass myself in front of half the damn town.
But even as I lined up for my next shot, even as I took a slow breath and set my focus, my eyes found her again.
She was standing near the score table now but she must have felt my gaze because she looked up, meeting my eyes across the lanes.
My pulse kicked.
Hard.
Her lips parted slightly, like she was about to speak, but she didn’t. She just held my stare, an intense flickering in those green eyes of hers, before she finally turned away.
I swallowed hard, pulled my focus back to the pins, and let the ball fly.
I didn’t miss.
But it didn’t matter.
Because Sadie Collins was in my head.
And I had no idea what the hell to do about it.
The night carried on in a blur of rolling balls, playful taunts, and competitive tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
But through all of it—every strike, every near-miss, every single goddamn moment—my attention kept drifting back to Sadie.
She wasn’t doing anything special.
Just standing there, laughing, playfully shoving Adam when he got too smug, biting her lip when she was concentrating on the game.
But fuck, was it distracting.
I told myself I wouldn’t make a fool of myself again. Wouldn’t let her get in my head like that first shot.
But when I caught her looking at me—when our eyes met across the lanes—I felt that same damn pull.
Like gravity.
Like I could fall into her, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to get back up.
And then she disappeared.
I caught sight of her slipping toward the bar, weaving through the crowd like she was looking for an escape from all the noise.
Maybe she just needed a drink. Maybe she just needed a minute. Either way, I wasn’t about to waste an opportunity.
So I followed.
By the time I reached the bar, she was leaning against it, waiting on the bartender.
I stepped in close, just enough for her to feel me behind her before I leaned down, my mouth near her ear.
“You always this much of a distraction, Collins? Or is it just for me?”
She startled slightly, but she didn’t pull away.
Instead, she turned her head just enough to meet my gaze, her lips curving at the corner.
“Oh, is that what happened? You got distracted? I thought maybe you were just bad at bowling.”
I chuckled, low and deep, letting my fingers brush against the bar beside her, caging her in just a little.
"That so? You planning on testing that theory?”
She raised a brow, her fingers curling around her freshly delivered drink as she took a slow sip.
“Maybe. You seem awfully invested in proving yourself, Samuel.”
“Only when it matters.”
I let the words linger between us, let them settle.
I’d been professional.
We had been professional.
But we weren’t at work now…
The bar was crowded, voices overlapping in a steady hum of conversation, but in this moment, it felt like it was just us.
She shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing mine. “Well, you did make a pretty solid comeback. But I don’t know… something tells me you had extra motivation.”
My gaze dropped to her lips, then lifted back up. “You saying you were cheering for me?”
She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “I’m saying you put on a show.”
I smirked. “And did you like what you saw?”
She didn’t answer right away.
Instead, she took another slow sip of her drink before setting the glass down and turning fully to face me.
The space between us was almost nonexistent now, her perfume threading through the air, all warm, delicious vanilla. Then she leaned in, close enough that her breath ghosted over my skin.
“I guess you’ll just have to wonder, won’t you?”
Then, just like that, she slipped past me, her fingers trailing along my forearm as she walked away.
And I just stood there, pulse hammering, watching her go.
Yeah. I was so screwed…
Or at least, I thought I was.
Because just as Sadie started to walk away, a blur of fur and mischief shot between her legs.
“Biscuit… whoa!”
One second, Sadie was all sultry confidence, brushing past me like she had the upper hand. The next, she was stumbling, arms flailing as the tiny corgi tangled himself in her boots.
Instinct kicked in.
I lunged forward, catching her just as she lost her balance. Her hands landed on my chest, fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt, while mine found the curve of her waist. For a beat, neither of us moved.
Her breath came fast, lips parted in surprise. “Did I?—?”
“Almost eat it?” I smirked. “Yeah.”
Biscuit, completely oblivious to the near-disaster he’d caused, gave an enthusiastic bark and started gnawing on Sadie’s boot like it was his new favorite chew toy.
A laugh bubbled up behind us, and I glanced over Sadie’s shoulder to see Lila standing there, hands on her hips, trying and failing to look stern.
“Biscuit, you absolute menace.”
The corgi wiggled his stubby little tail, zero remorse in those big brown eyes.
Sadie sighed, finally steadying herself and nudging the dog away. “You almost took me down, buddy. Again. I’m starting to think you have it in for me.”
Lila crouched, scratching Biscuit behind his ears. “Actually, I think he likes you.”
Biscuit barked again, as if he agreed.
I could see why. I liked her a lot, too.