earlier about how he worked too damn hard all the time. Sam shrugged. “Trust me, Sam. You do. And
rubbing your shoulders is nothing in the grand scheme of things.”
“More than I’ve had in a long time.” His shoulders stiffened and he buried his face between his
arms, muttering something I couldn’t make out. I was willing to bet his cheeks would have been pretty
and pink if he looked up.
I shouldn’t have been so pleased to hear him admit he didn’t have anyone that people in the bar
didn’t know about. I didn’t want a random someone taking care of him; I wanted to get to know him
well enough to figure out if I was the person who could help him.
“That’s a damned shame.” I stood, moving behind him so I could use both hands. It didn’t take
long before he relaxed enough that his shoulders wouldn’t be hitched up to his ears. I shifted to
slowly rubbing his back, paying close attention to his reactions. His breathing steadied enough, I
worried he’d fallen asleep at the bar.
As much as I would have loved to keep going until he gave in to his exhaustion, I had to respect
that he was at work and there was still a bar full of customers surrounding us. When I sat on my stool,
I allowed myself one last touch and reached out to stroke his messy, nearly black, curls. “Feel better
now? Think you’ll be able to make it through the night?”
“Yeah, that helped.” His mouth fell open like he didn’t quite believe how he felt without the
tension seizing him. “Thank you. Again.”
“You’re welcome again,” I teased. “If you need more, I’ll be here all night.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He sat up straight. “I should get back to work. I can’t exactly lecture
anyone else for sitting around if I’m doing the same.” He slapped his hands on his thighs and blew out
a deep breath. “Okay, time to check on John. He’s probably worried something happened to me since
I haven’t worried too much about the back tonight.”
“John knows what he’s doing. I’m sure everything’s running smoothly back there.” I managed to
keep myself from pointing out John wasn’t a fan of being micromanaged, or at least he hadn’t been
when he was younger. Like so many others around here, he wasn’t a friend so much as someone I
knew in passing. But he’d been working at The Lodge since it opened, and hewasdamned good at his
job. He probably would have been running the place, but he was the type of guy who didn’t want the
hassle that came along with being in management.
Eventually, I wandered back into the playroom. It wasn’t so bad now that some of the couples had
