We changed positions so that I was against his chest, my head buried in the crook of his neck.
Laying on Sam in his bed after having sex was even better than my wildest dreams. The sound of our breathing and the hum of the heaters kicking on lulled me to sleep. I’d probably go back to overthinking tomorrow, but tonight was everything I’d hoped for and more.
Chapter Nine
Mikayla
“I don’t know,” I murmured, more to myself than him, legs swinging beneath me from the counter at Doc Weaver’s office. Sam had agreed to handle the town’s basic medical care, within the parameters of his abilities, so that Doc could leave for his mission trip. He couldn’t prescribe medication or anything, but he had clearance to administer most things or call for authorization from the local hospital to do so. Plus, he could request an ambulance or medevac if someone was in the throes of a serious medical emergency. Still, he needed an extra set of hands. Or so he said.
Recruiting me for the front desk sounded like a terrible idea. Mrs. Weaver, who had been handling the administrative tasks since her husband started his practice, was going away with the doctor. Asking me was a logical choice, since I was only visiting. What Sam didn’t know was that I had plenty of leave time, as I never took any of it.
“This place smells like rubbing alcohol and responsibility.” I prattled on about nothing as I had been doing for the last forty-five minutes.
Sam didn’t look up from the file he was reading. His sleeves were rolled, forearms flexing casually like they hadn’t worshipped my body in his bedroom a few days ago. Like he hadn’t kissed me breathless. A kiss that left me aching in all the best ways before he carried me to his truck. I’d been a princess even in a damaged gown but in his arms I had everything I’d been wanting my whole life. Sam.
“I wouldn’t call responsibility a bad thing,” he said, not missing a beat. “Especially when I’m responsible for you. Besides, those stitches have another week or so before they need to come out. Might as well stay so I can remove them.”
My cheeks burned, but not from embarrassment. Something about his words settled behind my ribs and stayed there. I crossed my arms, like that might shield me from the way my stomach dipped when he looked at me. Like he already knew my secrets. Well, he did.
“I’m not saying no,” I said. “I just don’t know if this place is… me. White walls and blood pressure cuffs and whatever mystery tools are kept in those scary-ass drawers aren’t my jam. Plus, anyone can remove stitches. You don’t need to be a rocket scientist.”
“Mmm.” He didn’t look up.
I lifted a brow. “Did you just ‘mmm’ me? I’m not making excuses!”
“Sure you’re not.”
“Okay, rude.”
He chuckled but didn’t rise to the bait. Just kept reading smoothly like he had all the time in the world.
“You’re lucky that you’re cute or I’d really let you have it,” I muttered, mostly under my breath.
That did it. He looked up—slow and steady—with that maddening, infuriating, panty-melting smirk.
“YoucalledmeDaddy, remember?” he said, tone low and easy. “Whispered it like it’s been on the tip of your tongue for years.”
I flushed instantly, my cheeks burning from the memory.
Why was he bringing that up right now?
“I was vulnerable. There were emotions.”
Sam tapped a pen against the clipboard and got to his feet. “Are you saying you didn’t mean it?”
I didn’t answer. Mostly because I did mean it. I meant it when I screamed it in his bed too. And he knew it. Sam walked toward the cabinet where many supplies were kept, moving like the calm before a storm. He opened one drawer. Then another.
“You’re looking a bit flushed, babygirl.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying not to let my mind wander. Sam always loved lessons and I was pretty sure he had one in mind for me. He pulled out a thermometer and not justanythermometer. A clinical glass tool with a blunt pear-shaped bulb. A bulb that didn’t go in someone’s mouth.
Sam held it up between two fingers.
“I take your health very seriously, Mickie.”
My stomach dropped into my shoes. “What? No. I’m fine. The heat is blaring in this tiny office. You’re not using that on me. I remember where that goes. No way, Sir. Not today.”
He turned back toward me, that steady authority rolling off him like heat.
