Page 4 of Sexting the Tattooed Outlaw
It’s Sam who asks this question, his brow knitting in concern.
“Just a little burn,” I shrug, looking at Dad instead of Sam.
“Why’d you get burned? How?” Sam presses. His tone suggests he’s not going to let me brush this off.
“It’s nothing. Just clumsiness,” I say flatly, still looking at Dad. “Burns tend to happen when you work with hot liquids for a living. It’s not a big deal, I’m fine. I just wanted to wash up and change clothes. Anna is closing the shop tonight, she’ll be fine without me.”
Dad nods. He’s so sweet, he remembers the names of all of my employees, and even the names of the seasonal drinks and specials that we run.
He’s so proud of me, and on some level, I know he wants to believe that everyone is doing alright in the world even as he gets older and sicker, worried about what will become of his wife and daughter when he’s not here to take care of us anymore. So I try to be strong in front of him, even on a bad day.
I glance at Sam. He’s still looking at me with that concern on his dumb, handsome face.
Heat flows through me. My nipples tighten.
Damn you, Sam Wallace.
“I’m going to go, then,” I blurt out quickly, darting for the stairs before anyone can stop me.
I want to know why the hell Sam Wallace is sitting in our family room, but I’ll find out later, after Sam has left and I can pump Mom for information.
Once I’m upstairs, I close the door and exhale sharply. I close my eyes. Sam’s probably just here to visit while he’s passing through town. Saying hi to my mom and dad who, unlike me, are always willing to turn the other cheek no matter how hard they’ve been hit.
Blame it on their southern Christian upbringing, I guess. My parents are probably the nicest rich people you will ever meet. It’s honestly amazing that they have any money at all, because they are always willing to give and give...and give and give.
Thinking about this makes me feel angry at Sam all over again. It’s bad enough he had to betray everyone’s trust and then abandon us without even explaining why. Now he’s back and taking advantage of my parents’ kindness once again.
“He’s such anasshole!” I mutter to myself as I strip my coffee-stained clothes off.
I examine the red burn mark on my thigh, brushing my fingertip against the tender skin. Despite what I told my dad just now, it actually is a pretty bad burn. Bigger than I expected, and deeper than just the topmost layer of my skin.
I’ll probably have a blister tomorrow. This is going to take weeks to heal.
Damn.
All because I let myself get distracted by Sam.
Maybe I shouldn’t have left him down there with my parents. Who knows what kind of shady schemes Sam is up to these days? As a teen, he was in and out of trouble all the time.
Maybe he’s gotten even worse.
Maybe he’s here to ask for money, or to steal from my parents, or-
“Why are you hiding from me?”
I scream, whirling away from the door and shielding myself from Sam’s eyes. I look at the bed, trying to find my clothes.
“Get out!”
“Not until you tell me why you’re hiding from me.”
I find my shirt, pulling it over my head. Where are my pants? I can’t find my pants, dammit.
“This ismyroom!” I shout over my shoulder.
“I know. I remember it well.”
How does his deep, sultry voice manage to give me full body tingles like this?
