Page 92 of Wishing Hearts

Am I making a bigger deal out of this than I need to?

“Hugs first,” I remind her.

Winnie doesn’t set down her sleeping bag; she just steps into me and hugs me with one arm, letting go much too soon before she moves to Sam. He looks surprised when she hugs him, too, but he hugs her back, eyes closed for a second.

When Winnie steps back, I tell her, “Make sure to listen to Grandma and Grandpa tonight, okay?”

She nods. “I will.”

“Okay. Have a great night, Pumpkin.”

“You, too, Daddy,” she says before turning toward the front door, bouncing anxiously on her toes. Tigger steps up beside her, the pair looking out over the neighborhood.

“You’ll call if you need to?” I ask my mom quietly.

“Only if we need to,” she says. “Enjoy your night out, dear.”

My dad slaps me on the shoulder before opening the front door for Winnie. “Let’s go see these stars, kiddo.”

My daughter rushes for my parents’ car, my dad follows, and my mom gives me a kiss on the cheek before she, too, heads out the door. Then it’s just Sam, me, and Tigger, watching them drive out of sight.

“C’mon, stud,” Sam says gently. “Lemme show you a good time.”

My heart does a slow roll in my chest, and I give Sam a nod.

After letting Tigger outside one last time, Sam and I get into his truck. He doesn’t ask me to close my eyes or anything as we drive, and before long, Sam is pulling into the parking lot of…a bar?

“Sam,” I say a little shakily, looking his way.

“I know,” he says with a small shrug. “It’s simple for a date night.”

“But perfect,” I add quickly, and I mean it. God, this man hears me, doesn’t he? He’s always listening. Always surprising me in the best possible way.

He shoots me a relieved smile as he puts the truck in park. “Then c’mon. Let’s go get a beer.”

Inside the bar, Sam finds us a small booth in the corner of the room. The place is busy, and, as far as I can tell from a visual sweep, queer-friendly.

Sam doesn’t take a seat with me. He stays standing, one hand on the back of the booth and the other on the table as he leans close. His scent washes over me, and the muscles in his arms bunch. “What d’you want?” he asks.

What I want is Sam, but I know he’s talking about beer choices.

My lips quirk as my mind flashes back to the day we met. “How about a stout?”

Sam gives me a blinding smile and a wink before turning and heading toward the bar. My eyes slide down to his ass and stay glued there the entire time he’s walking away because damn, why the hell not? When he reaches the bar, he leans over the top, putting that denim-clad ass even further on display, and I must sigh or make a sound of some sort because the guy in the booth next to ours looks over at me.

“The one in the red shirt yours?” he asks.

I huff a laugh. “Yeah, he sure is.”

He gives me a smile. “The one in the black is mine. I’m Evan.”

Evan reaches over the back of the booth, and I shake his hand.

“Harrison,” I reply.

Evan nods, his light blonde hair flopping. “Nice to meet you, Harrison.” When he settles back in his seat, his gaze returns to the bar. “We’re on our third date. You?”

“Oh, well. I kind of lost count,” I admit.

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