Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Sam
We walk toward the diner slowly. Several people on their own lunch breaks or out to enjoy walks in the springy sunshine give us looks like they don’t understand what we’re doing.
Grant scowls at them in return, and I’m reminded of my first impression of him.
It’s so different from who I know him to be now.
Not that he’s always a ray of sunshine, because he’s not.
That wouldn’t fit him anyway. But his grumpy, overprotective demeanor that overshadowed everything about him in the beginning is only one small part of who I can see in him now.
He’s actually quite soft-hearted, and so concerned for those he loves, I’m starting to wonder if he’s pushing himself too much for their sakes.
Grant’s not a simple man, and I wouldn’t want him to be.
It’s more that the last few days have made me realize I don’t have to keep punishing myself for having been with Andrew. Even my lunch date with Evie reminded me that smart, amazing women end up with terrible men, and it’s awful. But it doesn’t mean they’re doomed to repeat the pattern.
More than that, my time in Juniper View is making me realize I have been living half a life.
I’ve been stuck in survival mode so long, I didn’t even know how to dream when I got here.
And the beautiful reality is that this small town, and yes, this man, are better than anything I could’ve dreamed up anyway.
It’s that feeling that has me threading my fingers through his when Jerry’s comes into view around the corner. Maybe it makes me weak, but I want to be near him, close to him, hear his voice. I want more of him, and I’m suddenly anxious that I don’t know when I’ll get it.
He stops a half block from where the windows of Jerry’s starts and tugs me to the side, slipping us into the tight alley between buildings.
He’s still holding my hand, and our eyes are locked on each other’s.
His eyes are bluer than the sky right now—they’re so ridiculously beautiful, and set into his ruggedly handsome face, I don’t know what to do with myself.
He steps closer, his gaze dropping to my lips before coming back to my eyes. “Can I—”
“Yes.”
It’s less than a second from when I interrupt his question to when his mouth is on mine.
One of his big, warm hands is pressing into my back and the other is cradling my face.
His touch is gentle, almost tentative at first. It’s not the need-filled demands like we had before.
It’s tender and searching. He’s asking with a soft press, do you want this?
I’m answering with my fingers sifting into his hair and accidentally knocking his cowboy hat from his head, body arching close to his, “Yes, yes, yes.”
All I can seem to communicate to him is yes, more, and keep going, but reality is waiting for us, and I can’t ignore the alarm blaring through my phone speaker.
We break apart, both breathing deliciously hard, and I love the flush on his cheeks and the way I messed up his hair. He bends down to grab his hat where it fell and fits it back on his head.
I press my hand to the center of his chest, the buttons of his shirt under my palm. “I am deeply sorry I have to go.”
“Jerry won’t mind, will she? Tell her you want to make out some more and she’ll support an extended lunch break.”
The devilish little smirk on his face has me laughing. “I worry if she finds out I’ve been kissing you, she might not.”
I pat him twice, then turn to go. But before I make it back to the street, he grabs my hand and twirls me back toward him, pulling me straight into his arms and planting another firm, sound kiss on my lips. He leans back, his hands holding my face, and says, “Alright. Be gone with you.”
But he doesn’t let go, and instead, kisses me again.
“Go on,” he insists, then steals one more kiss before he finally releases me.
“Bye, Grant.” I can’t stop looking back at him as I go.
He pushes off the wall and follows me onto the sidewalk, touching two fingers to the brim of his hat. “Bye, Sam.”
It is a painful three days until I see him again.
One might think we should be able to spend more time together, but he’s a single dad to two kids, and I’m working as many shifts as Jerry will give me so I can afford to pay for my life and register for the summer semester.
Right now, I can only register for one class at a time.
But this summer, I might be able to go closer to full time.
But tonight, I escape to Evie’s for a girls’ night. We both needed it, and as much as I love the Ryan family Friday night dinners, I wasn’t up for the crowd tonight.
“One of these days, we’ll have to do a girls’ night on Saturday so we can invite May. Maybe even Eirinn.” Evie slides a bright yellow polish along her fingernail.
“I’d love that. I get the feeling Eirinn is pretty intense. And May is so dang busy, I can’t even guess how many things she’s involved in.”
I’m not sure I’ve met someone more compelled to be busy. But it’s never frivolous things. It’s always projects to improve Juniper View or small business ventures.
She makes me think of the lines in Hamilton: The Musical where they talk about how he’s writing like he’s running out of time, but for May, she’s doing like she’s running out of time.
If I can pin her down long enough one of these days, I want to figure out what that ticking clock is counting down to for her.
“They are, but they’re amazing women from what I’ve seen. Dr. Ryan certainly speaks highly of his sisters.” Her eyes flick up to me. “Not that his opinion matters, just that he’s told me things that make me like them.”
I smirk. “Ah, yeah. You couldn’t possibly care what his opinion is.”
She lets her eyelids droop down, unimpressed. “You’re one to talk. I heard you were kissing the sheriff right there on the street earlier this week.”
My mouth drops open. “Who said that?”
She giggles. “Shalita Johnson. She came in with her husband for an appointment on Wednesday after lunch and apparently, she said the sheriff was, and I quote, ‘gettin’ it good right there on the sidewalk.’”
I am horrified. She must see this all over my face because she laughs large and loud, still holding that little yellow nail polish brush in one hand. “I asked her to clarify, and her husband butted in and said you were kissing, but still.” She wiggles her brows. “Sounds hot.”
My cheeks could start a fire if I pressed a sheet of paper to them, but I’m laughing and sighing now, too. “I’m not going to lie, it was very hot.”
She squeals, and I bury my face in a pillow. But even as I hide the absolute flames coming from my cheeks, I’m loving this moment. I love that I have a friend like her, someone I can share real things with, and who’ll tease me about liking a guy, and who’ll celebrate it with me, too.
I recap my conversation with Grant before the kiss, and she’s practically bouncing out of her seat by the end.
“I love this for you. I need to see you guys together. He’s so handsome and you’re so pretty and you would be such a sweet little family.” Her eyes well with tears. “Sorry. Hormonal. But for real.”
I exhale sharply. “I’m not sure we’re that serious.”
It’s not even a question. We’re not. We haven’t even been on a date. But we have been sharing our lives in fits and starts, and I feel like he’s close. We’re close. And I knew from the second I learned he’s a father that being with him is a big deal.
He’s not a man who’s going to casually date.
We have things to talk about, but at no point has he made me feel this would be purely surface level.
I’m not sure the man would know the meaning of the concept.
And so as wild as it sounds to be thinking about being a part of his family, it’s not not something I’ve thought about.
“Fair enough. But you’ve thought about it.”
She steals the words right out of my brain.
“Yeah. I have. It’d be irresponsible not to.”
She points at me. “Exactly. Thank you. If I date someone at some future time when I can wrap my head around wanting an actual available human man and not the completely unavailable fantasy version I work with every day, I need them to come into it knowing I can’t be casual.
Not in the same way someone without kids can.
Just admitting that takes trust, so the fact that he’s being so forthcoming tells me he’s all in. ”
Her words swirl around in my head for the rest of the night—through our watching of Pride and Prejudice, on my drive home, and as I pull into the drive.
And it’s what propels me toward his back yard when I smell the scent of burning wood and see the rise of smoke. He’s out at his fire pit, and he might want the space. But I can at least say hi.
I can at least show him I’m in, too.