“And that’s why you’re sneezing?”
He nodded. “I’m allergic to dairy. It’ll pass in a minute.”
“Wow,” I said as he sneezed again. “That is unfortunate.”
When the sneezing subsided, Sam pointed toward my empty cappuccino. “Would another one of those make you happy?”
“Very,” I said, smiling when his hand brushed over my shoulder to grab my cup.
There was a gentleman hiding underneath that obnoxious player and he was too adorable for me. Just too freaking adorable. He could spend three months in the wilderness, come back looking like a mountain man, and I’d still want to nibble every inch of him.
“How much longer do you have in grad school?” he asked, placing a fresh cappuccino in front of me.
“Until I finish my dissertation, which is a small eternity. Still figuring those pieces out. I haven’t exactly committed to a topic yet.” I gestured to Sam, and his cup of tea. “You said you’re an architect, right?”
“Right,” he said. He produced a small bottle of hand sanitizer from his pocket and worked the liquid into his skin. It was methodical, and more than a little mesmerizing. “We specialize in sustainable preservation, which is basically the idea that the most ecologically sound option in building is to restore and improve existing buildings.”
“That’s cool,” I said. “And you work with your brother?”
Sam laughed and scratched his chin for a moment. “I work with two older brothers, one older sister, and one younger brother. Third generation family firm, actually.”
Multiple generations, three brothers, and a sister felt all too familiar.
I grew up stacking dishes and filling baskets of pita bread at my family’s restaurant. It had been in business for over forty years, and all of my mother’s brothers and sisters worked there, too.
Cooking, prepping, waiting tables, washing dishes, carrying deliveries—whatever it was, we did it. Me, my sister, and all nineteen of my cousins.
But I never belonged there.
It worked out well for Agapi. Manning the hostess station five nights a week was her dream job, and she met her husband on an emergency trip to the meat market when the restaurant was running low on provisions. It was amazing we hadn’t added a butcher to the family until then.
“Third generation. That’s impressive,” I said.
Sam barked a laugh. “It’s a fucking circus, and if we could hide a body in this town without getting involved with the mafia, we’d have killed each other by now.”
Surprised, I looked up from my coffee to find Sam gazing at my chest again, and I’d never enjoyed gratuitous ogling quite so much. He was overt about it, but in a charming, curious way that I was finding increasingly tolerable.
“What are you doing today, perv?” I asked.
“I’d be interested in staring at your tits some more, and I wouldn’t mind you sucking my dick like you promised.”
“I told you to stop thinking about that,” I said.
“And I told you I probably wouldn’t,” he said. “I haven’t.”
I didn’t know what to do with his words. Was this flirting? Or friendly ball-busting? Or . . . something in between? What happened after a near-death experience, a drunken night, and a cuddlefest?
Ultimately, it didn’t matter. I wanted to hang out with Sam, and I didn’t care whether we were flirting or sparring or forging strange, new ground in the middle.
And that was the sweet little lie I was telling myself today.
“There are a couple festivals this weekend. A few bands I wanted to see. Let’s be the random, mismatched people who don’t look like they belong together.”
“Speaking of which,” he said. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
I glanced at my aqua shorts and ruffled red top. “What are you talking about? This is cute.”
Exaggerated annoyance flashed across his face. “Let’s start with the nine necklaces, and that one—” He gestured to the pendant just below my breasts. Of course he was staring at that. “Is that a fucking mermaid? You know what? It doesn’t matter. Sure, all these colors and fabrics go together, but there’s no losing you in a crowd, Sunshine.”
