“Are we?”
The singer smoothly shifted to “Sealed with a Kiss.”
He drew her close and echoed in her ear. “Aren’t we?”
She spoke into his shoulder. “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”
“I’m not sure. Is that where we’re headed?”
“Sam, you’re not thinking. You’re my boss.”
“Well then, Chloe, you’re fired.”
She laughed, a little freer from the ribbons of sadness that had bound her the last ten months. “Let’s not get hasty.”
“I get it. I’m a former bad boy with a rep, but I think we could have something between us. I don’t want to rush you away from Jean-Marc, and I know he’ll always be with you, but?—”
“It’s not him, well, not entirely. But Sam…I have to be honest.” She pulled out of his arms and walked from the dance floor to the wraparound porch. Fewer people. Quieter. Maybe she could catch her breath, organize her thoughts.
She stopped by the railing, one hand at her neck, feeling her pulse race. Sam came up behind her, touched her elbow. She turned to him. “Don’t you know, the men I love die? Daddy, Jean-Marc?—”
“Come on, you don’t really believe that, do you?”
“It’s the reality.”
“Well then.” He leaned over her shoulder and whispered in her ear, his words settling like a warm blanket on her cold, stale soul. “I’ll take my chances, Chloe LaRue.”
“Sam—” When she turned, she stood just inches away from the man who made her feel alive again. Their gazes locked and he tipped her chin up and lowered his lips to hers. Her pulse pounded as warmth flared and ignited inside of her. His kiss was full and hungry, but giving and searching, and she could do nothing but respond to him.
The music faded until it seemed as though they were the only two people on the porch, everyone and everything a distant buzz.
The kiss she’d yearned for fifteen years ago had arrived. And it was everything she’d dreamed it would be.
8
He could’ve danced all night. But like all good things, the evening ended, and he drove home in a schoolboy-crush daze.
Now, slumped in his favorite chair, the Saturday morning scene beyond his downtown Nashville loft held scattered clouds and blue sky. Sam could still feel Chloe against his chest and smell the scent of her skin.
However, he’d done his knee no favors. With a moaning wince, he leaned forward to adjust the ice pack resting on his knee. He’d hardly noticed his wounded joint while dancing with Chloe last night. Today, however, his knee was in agony.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t care. He’d held Chloe in his arms. He’d kissed her. Kissed Chloe Beason LaRue. Something he’d wanted to do for a long, long time.
She was tender and passionate, soft and supple, kissing him back with her heart as well as her body. He thought his heart might explode for the wanting of her. The band had changed up the music. The cacophony brought them both back into the present and suddenly she pulled away and grabbed his hand. The next thing he knew, they were on the dance floor in a twist contest. She put some flip and flair into her hips as they twisted the night away.
It was right about then he’d caught Dr. Morgan’s eye and thought, Uh-oh. He knew that she would bust him at his next appointment, but nothing mattered except Chloe and having fun. What Super Bowl ring? In truth, it felt good to let go of that dream for an hour or two. Sometimes the dream ended up owning the man.
Dad, rather, Frank, won the twist contest. He and Janice cut a mean rug, so he deserved to win, and not just because he was the birthday boy. As much as he hated to admit it, Sam had seen a different side of his father last night. The one from his youth, the one before his hypocrisy and cheating tore their family apart.
Sinking further into the chair, he closed his eyes and willed his knee to settle down. Could he run down to see Chloe today? Or would that be rushing things? He wanted to give her time. She’d seemed hesitant about moving beyond friendship. But if it was only a matter of him being her boss, he’d quit HARDRICK and let Rick manage the bakery.
He’d dropped her off at her mom’s house and walked her to the door. Their goodnight kiss was more sweet than passionate, but he was okay with the various movements of their relationship. They were still figuring it out. He’d give her time.
They’d decided he would work a shift on Monday afternoon after he finished physical therapy. See if they could gain some momentum against Donut Heaven. But with the town council meeting in a few weeks, they didn’t have a lot of time to build support.
His phone buzzed with a text from Frank. Thanks for coming to the party, son. If you have a few minutes, I’d like to discuss something with you.
Sam started to reply then tossed his phone aside. He’d call him later. For now, more ice and painkillers.
