Chapter 3 #2
Whoever’s joined her in the kitchen leans in behind her to grab the coffee carafe, and she’s surrounded by the scent of woodsy cinnamon and spice.
She breathes in appreciatively, then frowns.
That’s not her dad’s scent, and Charlie never wears cologne.
Until now, apparently. Maybe it was a gift from the new girlfriend.
‘Sleep OK?’ she asks, never taking her eyes from the cheese in front of her.
‘Well enough,’ comes the answer. The voice makes her freeze.
No. It can’t be …
She sets the block of cheese down and spins to face the voice’s owner.
Sam stands just inches away from her, transferring steaming coffee into a heavy-bottomed mug. He finishes his pour and glances up at her, a sleepy smile creeping over his face. Up close, she can see the rich colour of his eyes more clearly. ‘Morning, Mia.’
She has lost the power of speech. Her mind races along, struggling to process that Sam Williams is once again standing in her kitchen.
The sunlight is pouring through the windows at the back of the breakfast nook, the nearly cooked potatoes are filling the room with their earthy fragrance and Mia’s tongue is stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Damn it. Her one constant, her true companion, is her razor-sharp wit.
Why is it deserting her now? Perhaps because Sam flipping Williams is standing mere inches away from her, smelling like an enchanted forest. His feet are bare, peeking out from beneath royal blue pyjama bottoms. Mia swallows a groan.
She’s a sucker for a man in pyjama bottoms. And, there’s a little more exposed skin at his throat, where his dressing gown gapes slightly open.
Her eyes want to stay on that smooth vee of skin for days.
Sam shoots her a more alert smile and then tilts his head back to down a gulp of black coffee.
Mia is not ogling. She is simply watching the way his throat works as he swallows. Sam has great skin. Barely a pore in sight. Her fingers could simply glide across that smooth expanse, exploring to their hearts’ content. Mia is horrified at the effort it takes to restrain that impulse.
He shouldn’t be here. She hates him, will continue to hate him until her dying breath. It’s the least he deserves. But she’s not blind. And immunity to Sam’s charms has never been a strength of hers.
And if he’s going to invade the sacred space of her family home at Christmas – before she’s even eaten – then the man deserves to be objectified.
He’s pretty. Too pretty. And while that may have caused her heartache years ago, it’s old news.
Today’s Mia is strong. Confident. In control of her future.
Comforted by her ability to successfully relegate Sam to a simple sex symbol, Mia turns back to her pile of cheese and scoops it into the waiting bowl, sneaking a few pinches into her mouth.
‘Care to fill me in on why you are still here, Sam?’ She pauses for effect.
‘A bit too much of Mum’s mulled wine, perhaps, to drive home? ’
Mia’s pleased by how normal and at ease she sounds.
Well done, she thinks to herself as she waits for Sam to answer.
After all, there must be a reasonable explanation for his presence, and drinking too much is an obvious choice.
Or the snowstorm – yes, that’s it! The storm delayed his departure and he’ll be on his way first thing this morning, once he drinks his obligatory coffee.
Of course he can take a moment to have his coffee before he gets on his way – Mia isn’t a monster.
She breathes a sigh of relief as she pours the eggs into the heated pan.
They sizzle merrily, and her heart rate returns to normal.
‘Your brother invited me to stay until Boxing Day,’ Sam replies. His voice has just the faintest touch of gravel in it, which definitely does not make her stomach clench in appreciation, but does make her take a second longer to process Sam’s words.
‘Sorry, Charlie did what?’
Sam shoots her a rueful look, as if he was expecting this kind of response. ‘I had hoped he would talk to you about it, but I guess that was wishful thinking. Charlie invited me to spend the week with you all. So, I wouldn’t be alone for Christmas.’
‘The party,’ Mia spouts out. ‘You said last night that he invited you to Mum’s party—’
Sam winces. ‘And the rest of the week. Yeah, I suppose I didn’t have a chance to get to that part.’
Mia leans against the stove for moral support. ‘You have your own family, Sam.’
‘True,’ he responds, before downing another gulp of coffee. ‘But they decided to go on a cruise for two weeks. A whole Mediterranean adventure kind of thing. And I couldn’t get the time off, so I wasn’t able to go with them.’
‘You could have joined in part way,’ Mia says pointedly.
She stabs at the air with her spatula for emphasis.
‘Don’t cruises let people off at ports? Couldn’t you have boarded, in, I don’t know …
Venice? Barcelona? Athens?’ She clamps her lips tight before she reels off a dozen other Mediterranean cities.
Sam smiles sadly. It’s that crooked one and it tugs at her heart.
‘That’s what my sister said. And I could have, I guess.
But I suppose the idea of joining halfway felt a little pathetic, somehow?
So, I told her I had my own plans. And I’d see them for New Year.
’ He gives a sheepish shrug. ‘If I’m honest, I guess I was hurt that they made a plan for Christmas without asking whether I could make it. So, I opted out entirely.’
Mia is appalled by a sudden and unwanted stab of empathy.
She does not feel bad for him. Fine, maybe she does. A little. How awful would it be if her family left her high and dry, especially during Christmas? She shoves away the twinge of sympathy and tries to focus.
Sam sets the mug down on the counter and leans one hip against the edge. ‘Plus, I thought maybe we could work through some—’
The timer goes off, interrupting whatever he was going to say.
Mia has a pretty good suspicion, though, and her heart starts pounding as she leans over to pull the potatoes from the oven.
She does not want to go there. The past is just that, the past. She will focus on the present, and she will be her best self.
Today’s Mia can even be impressively polite. ‘Grab two plates, will you?’
The plates materialize next to her, and she spoons steaming potatoes on to each one. Then she adds cheesy eggs and a quick sprinkle of parsley. Turning around, she presents the dish to Sam, who’s suddenly looking ravenous.
He takes the offered plate, gratitude brimming in his expressive eyes. Mia shakes her head sternly as she heads towards the breakfast nook. ‘Don’t get any ideas. Your family ditched you for Christmas, which is a travesty. But you and me – this doesn’t change anything.’
Sam pads after her, taking the seat across from her.
The sunlight highlights the stubble dusted across his firm jaw, and Mia scowls down at her plate.
She. Is. Immune. They sit in relatively comfortable silence while they eat.
Once his plate is clear, Sam utters a satisfied groan and leans back, appreciation lighting his gaze.
‘Those are some spectacular slippers,’ he comments.
He reaches into the fruit bowl in the middle of the table and pulls out a banana, peeling it deftly.
Mia wiggles the foot crossed over her knee. ‘Aren’t they? They’re one of my latest finds. I had a heck of a time deciding between these and the T. rex ones.’
‘Why not both?’ Sam asks around a mouthful of banana, which makes her laugh.
‘I nearly did,’ she admits. ‘But my flat is small, and I have to save room for the next treasure, you know?’
He nods enthusiastically and Mia feels an unexpected sense of camaraderie.
This feels nice, like perhaps having Sam here all week won’t be the worst thing in the world.
After all, their history happened six years ago.
Mia was an entirely different person then.
She’s grown. Matured. Definitely developed more of a compassionate side.
Maybe it is time to let things go. But then Sam’s eyes flick up to her face, and he seems to cover a grin before asking, ‘And, ah, the commas under your eyes? Are those also found treasures?’
Mortified, Mia’s hands fly up to her face.
She’s completely forgotten about the under-eye patches.
Her hand brushes the crunchy strands of hair, and she’s surprised that her face doesn’t burst into literal flames.
Faded jammies, crazy hair, her face in a state.
Here she’s been, ogling Sam, feeding him and relaxing, and all the while she’s a hot mess.
Nothing here to ogle. Embarrassment reigns, a feeling that is horrifyingly familiar in Sam’s presence.
With a scoff, Mia shoves to her feet. ‘Glad to have been a source of amusement once again. You must really be enjoying this.’
‘Mia, wait.’
But she doesn’t wait. Instead, she flees up to the sanctuary of her room, where she scoops up a change of clothes and takes refuge in the bathroom.
As she steps under the scalding spray of the shower, she mutters curses against Sam Williams. And Charlie, while she’s at it.
Might as well curse James too. And actually?
Mia decides to just add the entire male gender to the list.