Page 13 of The Reward of You

It’s Miranda that clues me in. “He’s making it your move, Mom. Don’t screw this up.”

Great. Such confidence in me! But she’s not wrong and I’m back to feeling like an inadequately developed grown-up. Miranda is right. I need to swing at every ball that comes my way in regard to Sam. So what if I miss most of them?

“Then how do you feel about babysitting this afternoon?” I inquire sweetly, determined not to let Sam feel like all the effort is on his side.

Miranda rolls her eyes but gives a quick reluctant nod. Bea scowls. “Why? Why can’t we all do something together?”

“Maybe later. You wouldn’t like it if I sat in on all your activities with your friends, would you?”

Bea tilts her head thoughtfully to one side. “Nope.”

“Then get busy tidying your room. I promise to invite Sam to go with us to breakfast tomorrow.” That spurs her into action and she stuffs the final pancake in her mouth, syrup dripping down her chin before racing away and down the hall. We always go out to eat on Sunday morning, my way of celebrating a little and also keeping the kitchen clean for the big afternoon job of prepping school lunches for the week.

I set about tidying the rest of the house while Miranda cleans the bathrooms. Sam deserves a little time to himself, I decide, but not too much. I fix the girls sandwiches and then give Miranda a wave. “I won’t be gone long.”

She rolls her eyes like that was the wrong thing to say, but I’m not going to start ignoring my kids just because Sam came into the picture. I don’t think he’d let me anyway.

My nerves kick in when I walk down the driveway so I can walk up to his front door. Am I being too pushy? Not forward enough? Hell.

I knock softly, but when there’s no answer, I try again, harder. Still nothing. But his car is where he left it in my driveway, so he’s somewhere in the neighborhood. I think. I try the door handle, and surprisingly, the latch lifts and the door opens slightly.

“Sam?” I call out, leaning inside slightly.

“Back here!” I hear a faint call. Stepping in with more confidence, I shut the door behind me and try to take in his house as I make my way back to where the voice originated. Sam is definitely a bachelor, I decide, noting the lack of any decoration on the walls and a general preference for neutral colors to the point of depression.

I finally locate Sam in the very back corner of the house, ironing dress shirts, of all things. I pause in the doorway to take it all in. Hell, I don’t even iron anything these days. “This would make an even better calendar page,” I remark idly.

Sam looks up with a quick grin and warm silver eyes that rake over me. “Anytime you want to come watch, baby.”

I shake my head but stay where I am, as if I’m not allowed to touch. “No, it’s the come over part I want to talk to you about. I think I already confessed I’m crap at the whole dating thing. I never really did it, so I’m clueless as to the rules.”

Sam puts the iron down with a frown and turns to me. “There aren’t any rules, Noelle. Not between us, at any rate. What’s bothering you?”

I huff out a sigh of frustration. “It’s probably crazy to say I wish you’d just move in so we can get to the normal part, right? But that’s what I’m feeling.”

Sam’s smile grows wider slowly as he turns to pull me into his arms. Instead of kissing me, though, he nuzzles my throat. “Not crazy. Just maybe a little impractical. We both have work on Monday. You have your routine to get the girls ready for school and I’d only get in the way to start with. And then there’s the reality that you may get tired of me before you know it. Harder to get rid of me if all my shit is in your closet.”

I shake my head even as his lips nip lightly under my chin, making my pussy tingle with interest. “I won’t want to get rid of you,” I insist.

Sam steps back to raise both eyebrows. “As hard as this is for me to say, you might. You wouldn’t be the first.”

I frown harder. I never really asked him about his former relationships. I’m not sure I want to know. But a part of me needs to.

9

The washing machine dings just as Noelle’s lips part to ask the inevitable question. So I tug her over while I switch the wet laundry to the dryer before answering.

Shaking my head at my own youthful folly, I tell her the whole sad tale. “I finally got up the nerve to ask this brainy girl in high school out. The thing is, I waited until the very last minute, about two days before graduation.”

Noelle tilts her head in bewilderment but doesn’t say anything.

“She was busy with family stuff but agreed to go out with me. Via letter,” I amend. “Because I was enlisting the day of graduation. But I was thrilled and being the naïve ass I was, I believed all her flowery descriptions of our life together when I got out of the Navy.”

Noelle purses her lips lightly before saying gently, “I’m guessing you didn’t get to that point.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Came back on leave and wanted to surprise her at her college. Which I did. Along with her new boyfriend.”

“She didn’t bother to tell you?” Noelle winces in sympathy.

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