Page 54 of No Turning Back
"Talk about what?"
"The fact that you're staring at me like I'm dessert," he says, a slow smile spreading across his face.
My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. "I am not."
"Are too." Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on the island counter. "You've been doing it since I got naked."
I take a bite of salad to avoid responding, but the leafy greens might as well be cardboard for all I taste them.
"It's okay," he continues, voice dropping lower. "I don't mind."
"You're imagining things," I say, but even I can hear the lack of conviction in my voice.
Sam takes another bite of steak, his eyes never leaving mine. A small drop of juice clings to his bottom lip, and I watch, transfixed, as his tongue darts out to catch it.
"Maybe," he says. "Or maybe you liked what you saw."
Heat blooms in my cheeks. "You're awfully confident tonight."
"Just observant." He reaches across the island, his fingers brushing mine as he steals a cucumber slice from my plate.
I swallow hard, needing to change the subject before I do something reckless. "Therewassomeone living in the bunkhouse, huh?"
He looks at me like he doesn't want to let our moment go, but finally relents with a small sigh. "Yes, if you count a family of skunks."
"Must've been there a while," I say, focusing intently on spearing another piece of lettuce. "Were they hard to get rid of?"
Sam cuts another piece of steak, his knife scraping against the plate. "Not particularly. Once I caught the mama and her babies, I relocated them far into the woods." He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. "They weren't happy about the eviction notice."
"Explains the four rounds of shampoo," I say, finally meeting his eyes again. The intensity from before has dimmed, but hasn't completely disappeared. "How many babies were there?"
"Five. Tiny little things, honestly kind of cute if you ignore the whole stink bomb situation." He takes another bite. "The mama was just protecting them. Can't blame her for that."
"No, you can't," I agree, though my attention has now driftedback to the way his jaw moves when he chews. His face catches the kitchen light differently now, creating shadows that emphasise the strong line of his jaw. I force myself to look down at my salad again. "What are you going to do with the bunkhouse now that it's... habitable?"
"Clean it, I suppose. Give it a proper airing out." Sam pushes his empty plate away, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied exhale. "Might take a few days for the smell to completely fade, but it's structurally sound. Better than I expected, actually."
"That's great about the bunkhouse. It could be useful for something." I nod, gathering our plates. Sam stops me with a gentle hand on my arm.
"You cooked. I'll clean. Go wash up for bed." His fingers are warm against my skin, lingering a moment longer than necessary.
"You sure?" I ask, though I'm already letting go of the dishes. "You've had a long day of skunk wrangling."
"Positive." He takes the plates from my hands, his fingers brushing mine. "Besides, you look tired."
I am tired, suddenly. The weight of the day settles into my bones as I relinquish dish duty. "Okay. Thanks."
Blue follows me up the stairs, her nails clicking against the hardwood. I can hear Sam in the kitchen, water running, plates clinking. There's something so domestic about it all, me cooking, him cleaning, us sharing a meal together. It feels right in a way I hadn't expected.
In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face, trying to wash away the heat that's been simmering under my skin since I came home. My reflection stares back at me, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. I look... different. Feverish almost.
"Get it together, Quinn," I whisper to myself, pressing cool palms against my hot face. "It's just a beard trim."
But it's not just the beard, is it? It's everything about him. Theway he moves through my space like he belongs here. The way he looks at me like he can see right through me. The way my stomach flips when he smiles.
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. I'm acting like a teenager with her first crush, all blushing cheeks and racing pulse. I haven't felt this way since... well, since never. Not even with Markus, and we were married. That thought stops me cold.
I straighten up, meeting my own eyes in the mirror. "This is ridiculous," I tell my reflection firmly. "You're a grown woman with a doctorate. Stop swooning over your roommate."
