Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Anticipating the magical scent of warm vanilla, I smiled at Sam as he moved to open the door for me. Instead of the decadent aroma I expected, I hit a wall of overpowering perfume. My gaze shifted to the only other two people in the place as I entered.
“Do you know anywhere else that’s hiring?” a girl, who looked around my age and was dressed in all black, asked the server behind the counter.
“Maybe the pumpkin farm outside of town,” the server said, “but it’d only be seasonal help.”
“Thanks.” The girl turned, her head ducked low and her face partially obscured by the black ball cap she wore. I glimpsed golden skin and straight black hair as she walked past.
Head swimming with confusion, but not sure why, I stared after her as she left. Was it her perfume? Maybe because I didn’t recognize her?
Trying to shake the odd feeling, I glanced at Sam to apologize for just standing there.
But he was staring after her, too.
I glanced at her retreating form again. Her baggy clothes hid her shape, but I could tell by the way she moved that she was athletic. Was that Sam’s type?
Don’t do it, Clarity. His type isn’t your business.
I moved toward the counter.
“Is there anything you’d like to sample?” the server asked.
Yeah, the guy behind me.
I stomped on that thought. “Could I try the Death by Chocolate, please?”
She handed over the sample.
“The vanilla, please.”
Sam’s voice, so close behind me, sent a shiver through me, and the decadent bite of chocolate in my mouth had nothing on the thrill I felt from his nearness. The earlier confusion I felt vanished completely, and I suddenly saw what I’d overlooked.
If Sam was gay, why was he staring at girls?
“Here you go,” the woman said, giving him his sample.
He turned and caught me staring.
“Want to try?”
Share? With me? Heck yes.
I bit half the sample from the stick and watched him pop the rest into his mouth. The way he licked the stick clean didn’t mean anything—guys would eat a goldfish live on a dare. Yet, like a crush-struck idiot, I saw it as an indirect kiss and imagined he was savoring my taste.
The way he’d stared after the girl wormed its way into my head again.
Maybe he’d been admiring her fashion sense.
Straight men can be fashionable too.
Not liking what my inner voice was whispering and the hope it was stirring up, I turned toward the flavors to drown it out.
Gay Sam was a Mom-approved friend. Straight Sam would send her into a spiral. That didn’t stop my heart from skipping a beat at the possibility he was straight and had licked the sample stick because it’d been in my mouth, though.
Maybe I needed to lay off the werewolf romances after this batch.
The server left the counter and went to prop the door open.
“Sorry. I need to air it out for a minute, or I’ll get a headache,” she said, already returning to the counter. “I’m glad wearing perfume isn’t a thing anymore.”
“Yeah, her perfume was really strong,” Sam agreed. “I couldn’t smell anything else when I walked in.”
Understanding why he’d been staring, I placed him firmly back into his “safely gay” spot. His gayness was less disappointing than thinking he’d been staring at another girl.
Within minutes, we left the shop, each with a scoop of ice cream in a fresh vanilla waffle cone. Butter pecan, my fallback, was less likely to leave a noticeable evidence trail on my coat during the walk home.
“Is it good?” Sam asked.
Of course he asked mid-bite.
“Hmm-mmm.”
He chuckled and reached out to wipe my bottom lip with his thumb. Embarrassment didn't have time to register before he licked the ice cream off his skin.
“Mmm. Better than mine. Want a taste?”
My heart was freaking out from yet another indirect kiss incident, and he was casually offering a lick of his cone? That wasn’t what I wanted to lick. Why was fate so cruel?
“Clarity?”
I blinked, swallowed, then licked his ice cream.
Heat exploded in my chest with a sharp intensity I’d never experienced before. It stole my breath and made me crave things I knew I shouldn’t crave.
This was probably how your mom ended up pregnant, Clarity. Pull your hormones together.
“It’s good,” I said. “Mine’s better.”
He grinned, darted in, and took a huge bite out of mine. My outraged gasp died in a fit of disbelieving laughter. Goaded by my reaction, he tried for another bite. I managed to dodge, but it turned into a game of chase and grapple on the sidewalk that I had no chance of winning.
Especially when I liked the way he caught me so much.
In the end, we shared both cones. I told myself it didn’t mean anything. Friends shared food. Not that I ever had, but I’d witnessed it a time or two at school.
Flushed from the cold and our time together, I stopped on the sidewalk between our houses. Despite his “safe” label, I didn’t want to flaunt my time with him in front of Mom.
He didn’t question why I’d stopped there.
“Thanks for today,” he said. “I would have been bored by myself.”
“Where are your parents?”
“They’re staying at their friends’ farm. Dad isn’t a fan of town living.”
“Why did they buy a house in town then?”
“They didn’t. I bought it.”
He rubbed the back of his neck when he saw my shock.
People struggled to find jobs, let alone afford homes. If not for my dad’s life insurance payout, we wouldn’t own our home. And Sam had purchased one at eighteen?
“What do your parents do for a living?” I asked.
“Dad does security risk assessment in the States and Canada. Mom’s a data analyst. Remote work, so she can travel wherever Dad needs to go.”
Normal enough working-class jobs.
“What do you do for a living, then?”
He smiled slightly. “I’m an analyst like my mom. A different field, though. Environmental. I graduated when I was fifteen and started working.”
“Working in between running wild?”
“Running wild was part of the research.” A twinkle of mischief lit his gaze.
He wasn’t some rich kid then. Just someone who’d been working for several years already…while living with his parents. If he’d saved all of his earnings and had a stable job, buying a house made sense. But why here?
“I don’t get it,” I said. “What potential did your mom see that you’d want to buy a house here instead of traveling with them?”
“Maybe she saw you and knew I wouldn’t be lonely.”
I frowned, not sure what to make of his answer.
“That’s a hint that my door’s always open. Come over when you’re ready to switch books.”
The warmth in his easy smile replaced the “why here” question with complete awe at how beautiful he was.
Beautiful?
The absurdity of that thought snapped me out of my haze.
“Got it,” I said. “I’d better go.”
“Wait,” he said. “Do you want to go to the pumpkin farm tomorrow?”
More than anything, but I wasn’t sure what Mom’s mood would be once I got home.
“I don’t want to be the only house on the block without one on my porch,” he added.
He wasn’t. Mom and I didn’t have one either. But he’d echoed what I’d felt so many times since moving here—a desire to belong, even if only in some small way.
“Can I let you know in the morning?” I asked.
“Yeah. Sure.” He seemed to recall he was still holding my bag and handed it back. “Good night, Clarity.”
Why did hearing that make me feel so…huggable?
My emotions were all over the place whenever I was with Sam, which made it hard to stay rational. Thankfully, I managed a smooth, “Goodnight.”
Mom was watching from the window as I walked up our sidewalk and let myself in.
“Still think he’s gay?” she asked.
I kicked off my shoes and removed my jacket.
“Gay or already following the footsteps of previous crushes. He looked at another girl today. She was dressed in a goth-emo style. I couldn’t tell if he was interested or just people watching. And no, I didn’t ask which. But he did pick out three more werewolf romances to read.”
“What color were her fingernails?”
The random change in subject surprised me a little.
“No idea. Her perfume was so strong I didn’t notice.”
“That makes sense then.” Mom visibly relaxed. “His kind doesn’t like chemicals. Her perfume probably hurt his nose.”
And we were back to her werewolf beliefs. Feeling defeated, I didn’t respond.
“Did you eat while you were out?” she asked.
“Yeah. We got ice cream.”
“Okay.”
That was it? Just an okay to ice cream?
“Are we going to talk about what’s happening?” I asked.
“I tried, but you’re not ready to listen. Until you are, there’s not much point. Dinner will be ready in a few hours.”
Ignore her paranoid delusions until I was ready? I was on board with that option.
“What are we having?” I asked.
“Tacos.”
“Taco salad?”
“No. Just tacos.”
She was definitely up to something. Was she worried I really wanted to leave after that call?
Unsure of her mood, I decided to wait to bring up the pumpkin farm.
“Okay. I’m going to finish my chores and read.”
She sat on the couch and opened her reader, which she primarily used to pay bills and balance her checking account.
“Dinner’s ready!”
I closed my book and made a face. So far, the story had been following the pattern I’d noticed in the previous shifter books: He sees her, wants her, and tries different ways to force time together.
His method made her uncomfortable and guarded enough to avoid him.
And of course, the male lead was already feeling guilty about not telling her the truth and wanting to reveal what he was.
Mulling over the character's interactions, I joined Mom at the table. She hadn’t made up tacos for me, instead leaving everything out so I could build my own.
Is this a test?
I hoped not because I was going to fail. I loved tacos.
After filling two shells, I sat across from Mom.
“What are the odds you’ll let me go to the pumpkin farm with Sam tomorrow?” I asked.
“I’d rather you not do anything with him, but I understand the more I oppose it, the more I’m driving you away. So, I won’t stop you. Just remember what I said about not going anywhere alone.”
“Does that mean I can borrow the car after you’re done shopping?”
“You can use my car to carpool with your book friend from school.”
“What if she can’t go?”