Sam took a deep breath and pressed the button, the pretty chime muffled inside the walls of the house. At first, he didn’t hear anything, then steps sounded over hardwood floors. The porch light flipped on, and the door swung open.
Chloe stood across the threshold in a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back from her face with one of her shiny clips. She cocked her right hip and leaned against the doorjamb. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, could you punch me in the nose?” Sam leaned toward her, pointing to the middle of his face.
“Gladly, but that would make me petty and small. Like you.”
“Good point.” He righted himself. “Can this jerk come in?”
“Are you here in an official capacity? As my boss?”
“No, I’m here as the guy who sent you a stupid text.”
“Stupid? More like honest. But whatever, best to know things between us wouldn’t work before we even left the gate.”
“That’s what I want to talk about. Chloe, look—”
“Sam, we’ve said our piece. Let’s just move on, forget Friday night.” She wrapped up in her arms as a cold blast blew across the porch. “See you at work.”
“Come to dinner with me. Valentino’s. I took the liberty of making a reservation. They were booked but I did some name-dropping. See, that’s how much I want you to come out with me.”
“I don’t think so, Sam. Let’s just—”
“Sam, hello.” Mrs. Beason appeared from the kitchen down the hall, a bowl of popcorn in her hands. “Come in, come in. Chloe, you’re letting out all the warm air.”
Chloe made a face and stepped aside. “Sam was just leaving, Mom.”
“Leaving? He just got here.” She tugged on the belt of her robe. “Sit. I’ll make some hot chocolate. I was sick yesterday, but Chloe's chicken soup last night fixed me right up. I'm feeling so much better.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He paused. “And actually, Mrs. B, I made reservations at Valentino’s. I’d like Chloe to join me.”
“She’d love to join you.”
“I’m busy.” Chloe pointed to the television in the living room and bowls of popcorn.
“Not really,” Mom said. “We haven’t even started the movie yet. Sam, she’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
“Hold on, don’t I have a say? You and Ruby have got to stop answering for me.”
“Go on up and get changed, darling. I’ll keep Sam company.”
“Mom, I really don’t think—”
“Good, thinking is so overrated.” Mrs. B turned Chloe for the stairs and with a pat on the back, sent her on her way. “Wear your LBD, the one from Christian someone?”
“I don’t have a Christian Siriano little black dress.”
“Yes, you do. I saw it in the back of your closet when I was hanging up your laundry.”
Sam checked his grin as Chloe’s mumbled complaint echoed in the stairwell. But she obeyed her mom, climbing up.
“LBD, can’t make me… Dinner with Sam after he… Why am I doing this?” Her footsteps hammered her displeasure across the downstairs ceiling as she stomped into her bedroom.
Sam winced and sat in the chair next to Mrs. Beason. “Guess she told you about my text.”
“She did. But don’t worry, she’ll come around. If you do a bit of wooing.”
“A bit of wooing, eh?”
