Sam smelled of soap, clean and fresh, something a little grounded, like grass or earth or eucalyptus; I didn’t know (he was the gardener, not me).
The rhythm of his breath was nice.
Steady.Soft.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Could I stop you?”
I raised my head off his chest and whatever retort I had in mind stuck in my throat at the way the light hit his cheekbones just so.His pale eyes, sparkling with amusement, waiting for me to (no doubt) banter back.Because he knew me.Because he liked it.
Blinking myself out of my reverie, I ducked my head, propping myself on an elbow beside him.“What do you think I should do next?”
“You’re not sure?”
“I have my own thoughts.I’d like to know what you think.”My eyes flickered to his face.“I respect your opinion.”
Something complicated crossed his face before he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to my lips.“Thank you,” he whispered, and I hoped the darkness hid the blush I felt spreading across my cheeks.Hoped that from this distance, he wouldn’t feel how my heartbeat skittered and jumped.
He contemplated for another moment, and I enjoyed the wait.Unusual for me, but with Sam, it was always worth it.
“Hmm.I think you have an opportunity to take any direction you’d like,” he said, ever the magnanimous.It was as adorable a trait as it was frustrating.
“Want to be more specific?”
“I would never presume to tell you what to do, Tiffany.”
“I know, and I appreciate that.I’m not about to promise you that I’ll take whatever advice you give me.But I want to know what you think.”
“Okay.”Again, he took a moment to collect his thoughts.“You have a talent for what you do.And I’ve seen how much you enjoy it.I think it would be a shame for you to stop.I don’t know if you’ve ever thought of having your own bar, but I could definitely see you succeeding if you did.”
“Honestly, I’ve never thought about it.I …” and I paused because I wanted to be honest, but I knew that this was delicate territory, “before you came back, I felt like The Basement was mine, in a way, and I liked it.Liked building something of my own.Seeing all my hard work become something.You know?”
A hand rose to cup my cheek, and he tenderly stroked the skin as he spoke.“I do.You shouldn’t feel bad about that.I’m sorry I reacted so poorly in the beginning.”
“No.You were right to.I’d overstepped.But I am glad I got to have that for a while.It’s something I want again.Do you really think I could do it?”
“Absolutely.I have no doubt you’ll land on your feet.You’re very self-motivated.”
“Takes one to know one,” I joked.“Have you always been that way?”
He nodded.“To the mutual concern and appreciation of my parents.”
“That the nice way of saying they didn’t always know what to do with you?I can relate.”
“Your brother seems nice.I heard him call you Tuff Stuff?Is that a joke between the two of you?”
“Not really,” I said.While they weren’t the best memories, thinking of my baby brother always made me smile.“I was super protective of him when we were growing up.He was a little bit shorter than some of the other kids before he hit a growth spurt in high school, and one day I clocked a kid for pushing him around.My older brothers came up with it.They all think it’s hilarious.”
“So, you’ve always been a fighter.”
“Oh, absolutely.Mama always joked that they needed a new word to describe me because I was always arguing that everyone should just get along, but then I never backed down from a fight.”
“You must have been a handful.”
“I used to get in trouble for talking too much in class.”I joined him when he chuckled at that.“What were you like growing up?”
“Quiet.Curious.”His smile deepened, and he added, “I would occasionally get in trouble from correcting the teacher’s notes.”
