Page 7 of The Reward of You

Sam stills, his broad back to me before turning slowly. His smile is wry. “Nothing to take pictures of, baby. Not yet.”

I’m confused and my furrowed brow must give me away. He sighs and returns to perch on the edge of the couch by my legs. “Noelle, I didn’t go to college. Hell, I barely made it through high school. Not because I didn’t want to. But life in a youth home can be… rough. Hard to study when someone has a beef with you. And when there are twenty angry teenagers under one roof, someonealwayshas a problem they want to air.”

“You weren’t adopted?”

His smile is sad and resigned. “Too old when I went into the system and admittedly, I had a chip on my shoulder. I was about Bea’s age when it happened. Cycled through around ten foster homes before landing in the group home. It wasn’t great, but at least it was stable. The minute I was told graduation was official, I enlisted. Didn’t even stick around for the ceremony. Nobody to come watch anyway.”

His tone is so even and devoid of emotion, I know it had to have hurt. My heart aches for the young Sam setting out to face the world, feeling completely alone. Instinctively, I lace my fingers through his. “And now? No wife or serious girlfriend in your past?”

Amazingly, Sam starts blushing. “No. I, uh… just read the book, please? It will explain better than I can.”

I stare down at his phone bewildered. “Is this book about you?”

“Sort of.” He pulls his hand free from mine and stands abruptly, then disappears down the hallway. Part of me demands I get up and supervise to ensure his laundry sorting is up to snuff and that he knows what settings to choose for each load. But then I sag back against the cushions. He offered to help and I’m not going to rain on that parade. Instead, I blindly flip to the next page hoping for some insights on my curiously adorable and sexy neighbor.

I force myself to keep my attention focused on the task at hand, rather than sit and watch Noelle read the fictionalized version of my life. It’s not exactly accurate, but close enough to do the job of explaining things. I have no doubt she’ll decide I’m not worth her efforts after this and we’ll go back to simply being neighbors, maybe a bit more friendly than before. Too stuck in my single ways I can practically hear her say. After the first load of laundry goes in, I tour all the upstairs bedrooms and strip the beds. Might as well do all the washing now. When I go back to collect the towels from the main bathroom and Noelle’s, I’m once again confronted with the calendar flashback. I grin as I pull it off the nail and fold it closed.

Not sure what Noelle usually does with it, but I’ll bet it’s stored not very far away. I set it in one of the drawers for now. One of the other guys from back then is getting married this year. I wonder if I can convince Noelle to part with November? Framed, that would make a downright evil wedding gift for my friend and his new bride.

I peek around the corner to check on Noelle. Her eyes don’t gravitate from the phone, so satisfied she’s adjusting well to lounging, I go hunt up some more chores. Her house is immaculate, so there’s not much to find. After switching loads, I return to the kitchen to evaluate the options for lunch.

Noelle looks up from my phone. “How on earth do you know a romance author? Are you sure she’s not a former girlfriend?” Her tone is so suspicious I can’t hold back the grin.

“Sheis a dude weighing in at 220, babe. Not my type.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “You’re joking. But the author’s name is…” she flips back to find it.

“A pen name, beautiful. He got started writing books for injured soldiers, help get them out of the funk.”

“Oh! Does that mean you were…” Her voice falters like she’s not quite sure how to ask.

“Yep. Six months in the hospital for various injuries and a solid case of lack of inspiration. I found a family of sorts in the Navy. And then it was pulled out from under me without any warning. I lacked motivation to start over.”

With a sudden flurry of movement, Noelle sweeps her blankets and pillows aside. The next thing I know, I’m being hugged within an inch of my life. I love it.

“Careful with that arm, beautiful. Don’t undo all my gorgeous needlework.”

There’s a wet chuckle from somewhere around my heart that makes me experience unfamiliar feelings. They’re slightly uncomfortable, like new dress shoes but I have a feeling I could get used to them real fast.

Finally, she lifts her head, her ashy blond hair mussed. “You’re actually very shy, aren’t you, Sam?”

I blink in consternation. How did she figure that out so fast? “Yeah,” I admit slowly. “But how did you know?”

Her smile is wry. “I work with all sorts in my job. But honestly? I have some of those tendencies, too.”

She pauses for a moment and then shocks me to my core. “Kiss me? I need some encouragement for my own confession.” Her blue eyes gaze at me earnestly.

I’m no fool. I’m certainly not going to wait around for her to think better of that offer. I lower my mouth to meet hers, intending to give her only a respectable peck. But when our lips touch and I discover she tastes of the honey I slipped in her tea, I claim her mouth with a groan.

5

Sam’s lips ravish mine. It’s the most beautiful kind of possession. Like he’s excited to explore, to relish and taste all of me. After what seems like the most thrilling ride of my life, he pulls back slightly to suck on my lower lip. The small but intense sensation goes straight to my clit, making it throb with interest. Which also makes me suddenly aware of his growing erection pressing against the front of his jeans and into my belly. Instead of pulling back in dismay, I nestle closer, reaching my arms up to make sure his head stays within reach of my lips. I’m not ready for this to end. What if it never happens again?

When his tongue slips between my parted lips, I sigh with satisfaction and immediately freeze with uncertainty. I don’t know what to do.

Instantly, Sam steps back. “Noelle?” His deep voice holds only concern, not reproach. Closing my eyes because despite the spectacular beginning, there’s no avoiding this awkward conversation. There’s no way Sam is going back to being just a neighbor that stays on his side of the fence, and I don’t want that. Not really.

I tug him over to the couch and push him down without a word. He lets me, but when I start to move to one of the adjacent chairs, he stops my trajectory with a long arm wrapped around my thighs. “Whatever it is, beautiful, you can say it right here. I’m not running away so neither should you.”

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