Page 107 of Scandalous Lover

Sam curls his warm body around mine where I sit, and I laugh in spite of my gloomy thoughts, wiggling and sliding down until I’m laying face to face with him on the narrow couch. We’re both on our sides, slotted together like little sardines.

“Do you have enough room?” he asks.

I’m on the inside, pressed against the soft back of the sofa. I wriggle myself into the back a few more inches, because I’m sure Sam’s back is hanging off the edge. “Yeah. Do you?”

He smiles. “You might have to hold onto me.”

I lock my arms behind his back, taking my job very seriously.

Sam closes his eyes and slips right into his nap. I watch him for a few minutes, matching my breathing to his. Is he really so carefree about this whole thing? The peaceful look on his face as he sleeps sure looks like it.

And here I am, totally and completely wrecked. I don’t know what to do. I can almost feel myself preparing to run, even though I don’t want to. I want this.

Tears bubble up in my eyes, and I hold them closed to hide it, just in case Sam opens his.

I wake with a start when Sam performs the masterful acrobatic move of rolling over in my arms, balanced on his six inches of couch.

I wait for him to settle his back into me like the little spoon, and then I curl around him, holding him tighter than ever. I drift back off to nap-land convinced I can hold him forever.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Sam

“You escaped.”

I smile up at Naomi from my seat on the front porch. “I didn’t want to wake you. I made coffee if you want a cup.”

“Can I just have a sip of yours?”

I hand over my favorite yellow mug, a gift from an employee at the end of last season, and watch Naomi drink from it and smile. “Gotta love a man who knows how to make a cup of coffee.”

I keep my smile in place but say nothing. I have no idea how to respond to that.

She grimaces slightly and looks up at me apologetically. “I just meant…” Her eyes fall back to the cup. “Good coffee.”

I’ll make it for you every day for the rest of your life, princess.

“Thanks.”

“So, what’s on the agenda for today? More raking?” She goes for a subject change, and I allow it.

“You did seem to take to that rake like a natural.”

Naomi smirks. “Yeah, well. I’m multi-talented.”

“Honestly, I thought we could work in the bedroom today.” I break off and join her in a laugh as the words leave my mouth. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” I shake my head and try again. “It’s supposed to be a hot one, so I thought I’d kick on the AC in the new bunk room, and we could work on getting it finished. I think all it needs is a good sweep, some white paint on the windowsills, and then the mattress dragged down.”

“And sheets and blankets and pillows,” she says, handing my cup back.

I nod. “Yup. I have all that. Fresh sheets are on the line right now, in fact.”

Naomi takes to painting in the same adorable way she took to raking—with the solemn concentration and determination of someone who has definitely never done this before. She’s just finishing up the third of eight windowsills when the questions start.

“Why don’t you ever go on vacation?”

I smile over at her from where I’m reattaching a light switch cover. “I do.”

I know exactly what she’s asking, but for some reason, I’m nervous to get into my personal stuff. I should be offering it right up on a silver platter after her intimate confessions from the night before, but I’m not used to sharing deeply personal information with people who don’t already know the answers.

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