Samuel made three trips for groceries that could have been carried in two. I reorganized the reusable bags twice, for no discernible reason. We bumped into each other in the doorway and both jumped back like we’d been shocked.
“Sorry,” Samuel said.
“No, my fault.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Neither was—”
We stopped. Stared at each other. And I watched Samuel’s expression shift from awkwardness to something more determined.
“Okay,” he said. “This is ridiculous. We’re acting like teenagers who got caught making out under the bleachers.”
“We did just make out in a car.”
“Which was incredible, by the way. Best car make-out session of my entire life, and I’ve had some notable ones.” He set down the bag he was holding and stepped closer. “Farley. I don’t want to pretend that didn’t happen. I kissed you because I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you standing on your porchlooking at me like I was an alien who’d crash-landed in your peaceful existence.”
“That is roughly what I was thinking.”
“I know.” He smiled, and God, when he smiled like that—open and real, no trace of Dr. Brock Blaze’s practiced charm—it made my chest ache. “And I know this is complicated. I know you just got out of something, and I know I’m in the middle of a career crisis, and I know we’re both here temporarily and there’s a blizzard coming and there’s a cat that keeps leaving us dead animals like some kind of fuzzy serial killer—”
“Samuel.”
He stopped. Looked at me with those sensual eyes, the ones that had been haunting my thoughts since the day he’d shown up at my door unable to light his own fire.
I should kiss him again. That was what every cell in my body was screaming at me to do. Close the distance, taste him again, let whatever was building between us catch fire and burn.
But my heart was still healing from wounds I hadn’t fully acknowledged. And somewhere, under all the attraction and the chemistry and the undeniable want, there was fear.
Fear that I was too broken for this, that I’d give myself to someone again, only to watch them choose someone else. Fear that Samuel—charming, gorgeous, famous Samuel—would eventually look at me and find me lacking, the way Ollie had.
“I should go,” I said.
Samuel’s expression crumpled. Not dramatically—he was too good an actor for that. But I saw the hope drain out of his eyes, replaced by something that looked painfully like resignation.
“Right,” he said. “Sure. You probably have... things. To do. For the blizzard.”
“Samuel—”
“No, it’s fine. Really.” He was rallying, putting on that bright, professional smile that he probably used at press junkets and fanconventions. The one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you for the ride to Charlottesville. And for dealing with the mice. That was very—”
I stepped forward and caught his hand. His skin was warm against my cold fingers, and I felt him startle at the contact.
“It’s not that I don’t want this,” I said, and my voice came out rougher than I intended. “I need you to know that. I want—” I broke off, struggling to find words for something I barely understood myself. “Sam, I want you in a way I haven’t wanted anyone in a very long time.”
“Then why—”
“Because I’m not ready.” The words felt like broken glass in my throat. “I thought I was. I thought coming here, getting away from everything, would be enough. But I’m still—” I gestured vaguely at myself, at the mess I was barely holding together. “I’m still so angry at Ollie. At Roger. At myself for not seeing it coming. And I don’t want to bring that into something new. I don’t want to poison whatever this is before it even has a chance to grow.”
Samuel was quiet for a long moment. His hand was still in mine, neither of us pulling away.
“So what are you saying?” he asked finally. “That we should just... pretend that kiss never happened?”
I felt the burn of tears behind my eyes and hated myself for it. “I’m saying I want to be your friend right now, because I think I need a friend more than I need anything else. And I’m saying I’m terrified of ruining this by rushing into something before I’m ready.”
“Friends.” Samuel said the word like he was tasting something unfamiliar. Something that wasn’t quite what he’d ordered.
“Friends who kissed once in a driveway and then discovered a cat’s murder victims. It’s a very specific category.”
