Page 29 of Wishing Hearts

I huff a somewhat strained laugh, coming to a stop in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Fuck. Somehow, in only a matter of days, I forgot what it felt like to be in the presence of this man. How intoxicating he is. How his very words possess the unique ability to wrap around me and tug.

The man is temptation personified. At least, he is to me. And I so badly want to let him pull me in.

“Y’know, I realized somethin’,” Sam says quietly, taking a step that puts us nearly toe to toe. “It’s hard to call somebody for a date when you don’t have their number.”

I wince, and Sam raises an eyebrow. As soon as I left Plum Valley, I realized we never exchanged numbers, but I thought it was for the best. I figured my fling—if you could call our storage shed hookup that—had flung. It’s what I wanted.

At least, it’s what I thought I wanted before the man decided to waltz back into my life. I didn’t expect Sam to go through the effort of tracking me down. I didn’t expect to be so thrilled he did.

“Walk outside with me?” I ask before glancing over my shoulder. A few of my coworkers are watching us with rapt attention. Deborah, in particular, has a massive smile on her face. I know she won’t hesitate to grill me later, but none of them need front-row seats to my personal life as it’s unfolding.

“Sure,” Sam says easily.

Sam follows me out and around the side of the building, where we have a fenced-in area for the boarding dogs to go outside. There’s a picnic table nearby for the employees to use when the weather is nice, and I take a seat. Instead of sitting across from me, Sam plops down on the same bench, straddling the wood plank so close that his knee touches my thigh. He’s not wearing a hat at the moment, and his brown eyes sparkle with golden flecks in the sun.

He’s beautiful.

“Sorry about the phone number,” I start.

But Sam leans forward, halting me with a hand on my leg. “Were you tryin’ to blow me off?”

“No,” I admit, even though I wasn’t sure whether or not I intended to follow through on a date should Sam call. But it wasn’t my intention to ghost him.

“Then nothin’ to be sorry ’bout,” he says. “Now, when can I take you out?”

I huff a laugh, running my hand through my hair. “God, Sam.”

“What?” he presses.

“It’s just… You’re relentless.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s really what you want?” I ask.

He cants his head. “What d’you mean?”

“You want to date me? Not just fuck me?”

Sam’s lips twitch, and his hand tightens briefly on my thigh. “Are the two mutually exclusive?”

My breath punches from my lungs. “Why?” I ask. Why me?

Sam blinks once. “You know why, Harrison.”

“You want me that much?”

“Again, yes,” he says. The wind ripples through the trees around us, and even though Sam’s hair is too short to flutter in the breeze, his shirt billows open slightly at the collar. “Say you’ll go on a date with me.”

It’s a plea or a demand. I’m not sure which.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I’ve tried this before. I’ve tried, and I’ve failed. What reason is there to expect it’d be any different with Sam?

I don’t want to fail him. I don’t want him to fail me.

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