Page 20 of Scoop Me Up
Sam exhaled through their nose and shrugged one shoulder. “Hard. I’m not sure I know what I’m doing, but it’s got to be done. I want to get it done sooner than later, so I can start to seek out investors. I’m going to need a lot more than that five-thousand-dollar grant to get started, after all.”
I hesitated for only a second. “I could help you. With the business plan, I mean.” I wanted to offer myself as an investor, but it felt like that would be too much.
“You don’t have to do that,” Sam said, waving their hand to dismiss the idea. “I’m sure you have more important things to do.”
“I really don’t mind. That’s what I do. I’m sure I could help you find an investor or two.”Like me,I thought.Let me invest in the shop.It felt weird even thinking it. I was sure Sam would decline, considering we barely knew each other—not that you needed to be close friends with an investor for things to work out.
Sam nodded slowly. “Okay, then. I’ll take you up on that.” They looked down at their plate briefly, where their carrots and pot roast were swimming in a thin gravy, then up at me again. “Can you pass the rolls? I need something to mop up this sauce with. It’s so good.”
“Sure.” I grabbed the basket and held it out to them, and as they reached to take the basket out of my hand, their fingers brushed mine. A lump immediately formed in my throat, my chest tightening. For a second, neither of us moved, our fingers touching as we both held on to the bread basket.
“Daddy, may I be excused now?”
Ellie’s voice shattered the moment and we both pulled away at the same time, the bread basket turning over, bread tumbling to the floor.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Oh no,” Sam said at the same time. “That’s my fault. I’m sorry. I can be really clumsy sometimes.”
I took a steadying breath. “Ellie, why don’t you help me clean up the rolls while Mix gets out dessert?”
“Dessert,” she exclaimed, jumping up from her seat and hurrying to my side to pick up the bread.
Sam pushed their chair back and stood. “That sounds like a great plan.” A few minutes later, Sam was serving us bowls of ice cream, two scoops in each. As we ate, Sam told us more aboutthe ice cream creation process and how easy it was to make ice cream at home in small batches.
“Can you teach me how to make ice cream, Mix?”
“Don’t you already know how? Didn’t your dad teach you for the contest?”
She shrugged. “I just picked the flavor. Daddy did the hard stuff.”
With a grin and a sincere nod, Sam booped Ellie on the nose. “Of course I can. Next time, though, okay? It’s getting late and I bet it’s almost your bedtime.”
Ellie sighed dramatically and put her spoon down, her bowl of ice cream nearly empty. “Do I have to?”
I glanced at the clock on the stove. “Unfortunately, you do.”
“But tomorrow’s Sunday,” she protested.
Picking up my napkin, I reached out to her and wiped her mouth to remove remnants of chocolate and marshmallow. “Go get ready for bed, please,” I said firmly. At that, Ellie got up and headed toward her bedroom, sighing again.
“I mean, tomorrowisSunday,” Sam pointed out.
“Not you, too. She’s a monster if she doesn’t get enough sleep.”
Sam chuckled and the laugh made my chest feel light for a moment. “Fair,” they said before taking one final bite of their ice cream. As they did, chocolate dripped onto their chin from the scoop of s’mores.
Without thinking, I reached over and wiped their face with my napkin, clearing the drip away, Sam still chuckling. Their laughter faded as they froze. I realized what I was doing and pulled back as if I’d been burned. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” It felt like all we’d been doing all night was apologizing to one another.
Sam’s voice was quiet when they spoke. “It’s not a problem. Can I help you with the dishes?” They pushed their chair out and began to gather our bowls and plates.
“It’s okay, just put them in the sink. I’ll load up the dishwasher later.”
We cleaned up silently, the tension back between us, as I internally beat myself up for being so weird and awkward. What was Ithinking? The truth was, I hadn’t been thinking. Somehow, whenever I was near Sam, my usually clear mind turned to static.
Just as we finished up, Ellie’s voice echoed down the hall. “Daddy, I’m ready for my story.”
“Be there in a sec,” I called back. Sam and I stood, watching each other, my hands stuffed in my pockets where I thought I'd be safe from reaching out for any random touches.
