Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Samantha
The next morning, I was up before Caleb. Mrs. D. and I chatted over coffee and I showed her my dress for Ani’s wedding, a pretty salmony-pink satin gown with a lacy bodice. When Mr. D. refused any help in making breakfast, I decided to go for a run. As I was lacing up my sneakers, he handed me something. It was a UW sweatshirt, faded red and soft in the way that only a well-loved old sweatshirt can be. “Wear this,” he said. “Mornings are still a little chilly.”
I thanked him, put it on without thinking much about it, and went for a good run.
When I returned, Caleb was sitting at the island, talking animatedly to his dad about baseball as his dad loaded burrito shells with a mouthwatering mixture of scrambled eggs, cheese, and onions and peppers. I poured myself a coffee and sat down as far away from Caleb as I could get.
It wasn’t long before his gaze wandered over to me. “That’s my lucky sweatshirt,” he said.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” I said, setting down my mug of coffee with a soft thud. “Your lucky what ?”
“My lucky sweatshirt,” he confirmed. “I was wearing it when I found out I got into med school.”
I rolled my eyes. The man was a total sentimentalist. “At least it’s not your get lucky sweatshirt.”
Mr. D. gave a snort. “Good one.” He handed me a steaming breakfast burrito that he’d tossed onto a plate, the cheese sticking in long gooey delicious strings to the spatula.
I took the plate and held my breath, knowing that Caleb’s competitive streak would not allow him to be outdone.
“Hmm,” he said, rubbing his chin and looking thoughtful. “Come to think of it, it might’ve been that too.”
I set down the plate and smiled sweetly. “If I would’ve known that, I would’ve burned it instead of worn it.” I took a bite of the burrito—which tasted as amazing as it looked—and immediately moved to take it off. Halfway through, I felt his hand on my arm. I poked my head out of the shirt to find him laughing hysterically.
His laugh was rumbly and hearty, reverberating in pleasant waves around me. “I’m teasing,” he said, grinning. “Gotcha.”
I pursed my lips and shook my head, pretending to be offended.
“Oh, come on, it was a little funny.”
“No, it really wasn’t. It was gross.”
“Sorry,” he said. I put on the most hardened, skeptical expression I could. “Really sorry,” he persisted. “See?” He pushed out his lower lip and made a sad face.
He looked so ridiculous that I burst out laughing. Even though I didn’t want to.
As my completely inappropriate guffaw faded, my breath caught, half from trying to stop and half from the realization that something strange was happening to me. I felt… caffeinated. A little tingly, a little out of breath.
I took another sip of coffee to buy myself some time to get it together. I remember thinking that his eyes were so intense, that odd shade of green, so, so… No. I was not interested. Definitely not interested.
I definitely did not see a spark of heat in those eyes aimed right at me, straight as Cupid’s arrow.
That was when I choked on my coffee. I stood up, coughing and trying to catch my breath.
He stood too, poured me a glass of water, and handed it to me, slapping me on the back.
“What med school did you go to?” I asked between gasps, “Because that’s not what you’re supposed to do when someone’s choking.”
“If I tried the Heimlich on you, you’d probably elbow me to death.”
I wanted to tell him he was absolutely right, but I was still choking. When I could finally breathe again, he was still standing next to me, his lips turned up in the slightest smile. Nice, full lips, I couldn’t help noticing, probably because everything had gotten so weird, and once that happens, it’s like I couldn’t stop that inner voice from tormenting me. He’s hot.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Caleb’s parents exchange looks. I couldn’t tear that shirt off fast enough. I handed it to him.
“Keep it,” he said. “It looks good on you.”
* * *
Caleb
Sam caught me in the hallway, on her way upstairs to pack up for our trip.
I was a little off-kilter from what had just happened in the kitchen. Parleying with her had been fun. Exhilarating actually, if I was being completely honest. When I managed to forget the trouble she’d gotten me into with Lilly, that is.
“How did things go with Lilly yesterday?” Sam asked. She’d halted on the second stair, her hand on the railing. Her hair was messy from the run, and she was wearing a gray T-shirt that said I got an A in Anatomy . Which seemed just like her—I had no doubt that she’d graduated at the top of her class. Yet there was no denying that her personal anatomy was indeed A plus. But I digress.
I knew she was trying to help and that she felt bad about things. But unfortunately, the damage had already been done. Frankly, things hadn’t gone that great with Lilly. Yesterday I’d tried to connect with her on the way to her shop. Oh, she’d been friendly enough, but when I’d tried to remind her of all our good times by bringing up a memory or pointing out a place we used to hang out, she’d gone radio silent.
I knew that I needed to show her, not just tell her, that I wasn’t the guy she’d heard those rumors about. My sense was that she didn’t quite believe me. Also, she kept fielding a beehive of texts on her phone as she walked, which also wasn’t an ego boost.
“That good, huh?” Sam was regarding me from the step, from a vantage point of height. I felt like she could somehow peek right into my brain at all the jumbled thoughts swirling around there.
“It’s early yet. I’m looking forward to spending time with her this weekend and showing her who I really am.”
“I could totally help, you know.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need it.” I didn’t want or need Sam’s help with Lilly, but I’m not going to lie, the matchmaking hocus-pocus stuff she’d mentioned sounded a little intriguing. Especially coming from a scientific, no-nonsense person like her who seemed to reject any kind of romantic notions about love. Wouldn’t it be amazing if someone could really tell if a couple was meant to be? It would save a whole lot of money on divorce attorneys, right?
I wasn’t that desperate. I felt certain that if Lilly could just spend some time with me, she’d see me for who I really was and realize how great we could be together.
I was going to be positive. I had an entire weekend to convince her. And I was going to make certain to clear this up once and for all.
“You should let me help,” the pain in my tuchus said. “At least let me put in a good word or two.”
Jeez, and my family thought that I had a tough time throwing in the towel on anything.
I studied her carefully. “I can handle this myself.” Please let me handle this myself, I almost added. But I was afraid that would sound desperate.
“Okay, if you insist.” She continued walking up the stairs. And I continued to not be interested in seeing her cute behind as she did that.
I had another way to get her off my case and keep her otherwise occupied. “Actually, there is something you can do.” She froze halfway up the stairs. “Quinn will be riding with us after all. I know you won’t mind sitting in the back seat with him.”
“No, of course not,” she said with a fake smile. “See you in the morning.”
I was determined to make Lilly see how sincere I was, and for that, the only thing I needed was together time at the farm. Beginning with the ride there tomorrow.
* * *
Samantha
“Have fun this weekend,” Mrs. D. said. “Here are some cookies for everyone for the road. Give Mia a kiss for me.” She gave me the cookies and a squeeze. “And Samantha, thank you—for going shopping with me. It was so much fun.”
“Thank you for making me feel so welcome,” I said as I hugged her back. I meant it more than she could ever know. I moved to head down the steps when she grabbed my arm.
“You are welcome here anytime,” she said, her gaze locking with mine so I couldn’t look away. “With or without my kids.”
A big ball formed in my throat. Those simple gestures—a hug, a kiss, someone handing me treats and sending me off into the world—brought a giant lump to my throat. She treated me like one of her own kids, and she had no idea how much that meant to me.
“Thanks for… everything,” I mumbled. Not the most articulate thank-you. I could have done better if my throat didn’t feel as if it were clogged with a Kleenex.
Just then, Caleb pulled up in his truck. He’d picked up Lilly and apparently had met up with Quinn and helped him park his car near the barn, and now we were ready to go. A quick glance showed the fuzzy outline of an unfamiliar face in the back seat surveying me. A sensation of dread diffused through me. I know that might sound harsh, but I’d been through this before: Guy desperate for love gives the hard push to go out. The last thing in the world I wanted was to cause conflict within this wedding party. I couldn’t see him very clearly, but he looked fresh-faced and eager, just as Mrs. D. had warned me. But maybe I was just being an alarmist.
I didn’t realize I was hesitating until Mrs. D. spoke. “Would you mind if I give you a piece of motherly advice?”
I felt my cheeks burning. Maybe she’d seen my apprehensive look. Or did this have something to do with Caleb and how we’d gotten caught up about that stupid sweatshirt in a way that might have seemed a tiny bit flirtatious? “Sure. Of course.” I braced myself for what was surely going to be a critique.
“You don’t have to be an adult all the time. It’s okay to let down your guard and follow your heart once in a while.”
That poor heart of mine plunged. I didn’t expect that. But Beth didn’t understand that I couldn’t have survived, let alone come as far as I had, by letting down my guard.
“I-I’m not sure what you mean.” Let loose this weekend down on the farm? Definitely not with Quinn. What other choices did I have? Mia would be with Brax, Caleb would be hanging out with Lilly, and I would have my friend Gabe, the officiant, who was gay and engaged. I didn’t understand what she was getting at.
“You need the chance to act young,” Beth said. “There’s plenty of time to act old and mature.” Before I could ask how to go about doing that, she kissed me on the cheek and said, “Now that I’ve given you advice, you must call me Beth.” Then she waved to her son, who had gotten out of the truck and took the front steps in two bounds. He looked hopeful and energized, probably from being with his lady love.
His glance bounced between both me and his mom before he gave her a puzzled look. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked.
“Just discussing last night’s score,” I said dryly.
He patted me on the arm. “Don’t cry. The Brewers will pull it off next time.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Actually, I was just telling Sam how wonderful she is,” Beth said cheerily.
That wasn’t awkward. With a shrug, he pecked his mother on the cheek. “Oh. Well, okay then,” he said. “Bye, Ma. Thanks for everything and see you in a couple of weeks.”
“Okay, honey. Bye.” As she hugged him, she gave me a wink.
“Bye, Beth,” I said with a wave. “Thanks for everything.”
Was she telling me that I’d become old before my time? And what did that even mean, follow my heart? I’d always had to act mature. I’d had to put my responsibilities first. If not, what would happen to Wynn?