Page 21 of The Hermit on the Hill

"Me, too," Sam said, his scowl dropping. "Glad to hear he's doing so well in Boston."

"Yeah," Tabitha said. "Just wish he wasn't so far away. I miss my niece and nephew."

"What was he like as a kid?" I asked.

Sam grunted. "Tabby. Just tell her I'm not a dangerous guy, so she'll let me into her apartment."

It wouldn't hurt to learn more about him, even if I had already decided I was going to let him in.

"I need more information before I'll feel safe." I winked at Tabitha, and her eyes sparkled. "Tell me something good."

"Well." Tabitha drew the word out into about six syllables as she looked around her bakery. There were only a few people seated at the small tables. "The dark and horrible truth is that Sam wasn't always this big grump of a guy. He was a really sweet kid. My brother was the one who locked me in the basement. Sam brought me water and snacks after he did it."

I looked at Sam, who was scowling like Tabitha had just told me he used to torture kittens for fun.

"So what made him into the reclusive grump we all know today?" I asked.

Tabitha frowned and shook her head. "That's not my story to tell."

"I didn't realize you knew that story," Sam said, his voice gruff and strained.

"I know. And I'm so, so sorry. Hunter, he… Well, you should call him sometime, Sam. He's got a lot of guilt about what happened."

I looked back and forth between them, dying to know what they were talking about, but also certain this was something neither of them would share easily.

"We should go," Sam said. "Are you going to let me into your apartment now, Jenna?"

"Oh. I was always going to let you in my apartment. I just wanted to see what stories I could pull out of Tabitha."

"I've got more stories," Tabitha said. "Stop by anytime. There's a great one involving a cow patty and a bullfrog."

"Tabby." A warning note rang in Sam's tone.

Tabitha just laughed.

Sam let me take the lead out of the bakery, following a few steps behind.

My hands shook as I unlocked the door to the apartment, probably because I was so hungry.

Sam walked inside and looked around, his expression not showing what he thought of the place. It was a decent-sized apartment, with huge windows on the front that overlooked downtown, and I thought I'd done a nice job of decorating with replicas of my favorite folk-art on the walls and my big comfy couch and plants in every space I could find or make.

I grabbed a pair of dirty socks from the floor next to the couch and picked up the throw I'd left in a ball on the end of the couch.

"You should sit," Sam said, still standing near the door.

"This place isn't suitable for a visit." I folded the dirty socks into the throw and placed it in a neat square over the back of the couch. "I haven't had anyone over in a while and I—" The dining table next to the kitchen in the open-plan apartment was covered in books and notebooks and balled up paper. Sam put a hand on my shoulder as I began to tidy that up.

"Stop, Jenna. Sit and eat. I can hear your stomach growling from here."

I stared, lost in him for a moment. The way the dim light from the lamp caressed the hard lines of his face, the fondness and worry in his gaze. "I should… Would you like something to drink?"

His lips twitched. "I'll get it, professor. You sit and eat. What can I bring you to drink?"

"Water would be great." I sat on the couch, because he was right. I was starving. So hungry, I struggled to think rationally. "Would you like a cinnamon bun?"

"No." In the kitchen, Sam opened every cupboard door, one by one, presumably looking for drinking glasses.

"Cabinet closest to the apartment door."

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