Sam
How about Friday?
Sounds like a date.
Sam
It is!
“Who are you texting? Lover boy?” Ari waltzes into the kitchen, fresh faced and looking for trouble.
“Actually, yes. We had a nice time tonight but—”
“But what?”
“I . . . well, what am I going to do if things, you know”—I swoosh my hand in the air—“heat up between us?” I can feel the blush creeping up my neck, and I reach for a glass of water to cool down my throat.
“Um, I actually don’t know other than telling him the truth or making sure you never undress. That’s why you need to call in sick tomorrow.” Ari grabs a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips fromthe cupboard and moves into the living room. I follow, ready to eat my feelings.
“I can’t call in sick. What would Beau think?” I plop down on the couch, stealing a handful of the salty bits of heaven that I adore so much.
“He would think that you’re sick. You may not want to go, but we have somewhere to be.”
“Where are we going?” I can’t just be expected to risk a brand-new job. She better have an actual plan.
“Salem. To catch a witch.” Ari raises an eyebrow in challenge. She knows I’m going; getting rid of this tattoo has to be the priority, even if I’m risking pissing Beau off.
“Fine, I’ll call in sick, but we have to actually find something there.” I crunch a few more chips, and she fills me in on the plan. After a draining rundown of all we haven’t found and what could possibly happen tomorrow, I feel myself drifting off to thoughts of Sam and Irina.
I’m startled awake by what sounds like someone beating down my door. Who the heck has the audacity? I roll off the couch, a half-eaten chip falling to the floor as I slink my way to the door, trying my best not to disturb Ari, who’s conveniently passed out on the floor. I grasp the door handle, not thinking about my appearance or attire before opening it.
“Wow . . . that’s not what I expected you to look like at”—Sam glances at his watch—“8:53 in the morning.” He takes me in, looking me over thoroughly, probably assessing if he wants to run for the hills. I swipe a hand at my hair, trying to tame whatever it is surely doing, and toss him an awkward smile.
“I, uh, yeah. I usually don’t, but I guess I slept in.” I shrug in an attempt to play it cool, even though my stomach is rioting as a reminder that it is wholly unacceptable to be seen in such a state of disarray. I have no clue what he’s doing here.
“I heard. I brought you this and came to see if you were okay.” He hands me a steaming cup of pumpkin spice latte from the Brewhouse. I grasp it greedily, sucking down a sip as quickly as possible.
“Ahh. Shi-oot, it’s hot.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, my face twisting in discomfort from the scalding liquid as I set the cup down on the entry table.
“Sorry. I thought you’d want it fresh.” He reaches out, running his fingers through my hair, removing a potato chip and handing it to me. “Looks like you were maybe saving this for later.” There’s that million-dollar smile.
“Oh, um, yeah actually.” I toss the chip in my mouth like a lunatic and crunch it down.
“Oh my God. Why did you eat that? It was a joke.” He looks horrified.I am really selling myself here.
“I-I don’t know. I think I’m still asleep.” I laugh at the ridiculousness of this interaction and how I must look before realization settles in that I’m wearing only a thin layer of panties and my long-sleeved sleep shirt. I casually tug the bottom hem down and then my sleeve as mortification settles in. The tattoo shouldn’t peek out, but I also can’t be sure it didn’t grow again while I was sleeping.
“Clearly. I just came by to see if you needed anything.” He eyes me suspiciously. “You don’t look sick, so what is it? A case of the brown bottle flu?”
“Well, I don’t look good.” I peer down at myself, wincing at just how disheveled I really am.
Sam grabs my face, his rough palms scraping the sides of it gently as he pulls me closer to him. We are a very bad morningbreath away from kissing. Is this seriously how our first kiss is going to go? He looks deep into my eyes. I can’t fight the way I’m staring back into his. There’s something about him that’s so disarming, it’s like every interaction makes me want to open up to him more even, though opening up to anyone is about as foreign to me as it gets.
“You are every bit as gorgeous right now as you were the first time I met you at the store.” He presses a tender kiss to my forehead and then releases me.
“There’s no way that’s true.” I practically purr the words out. He has me all hot and bothered from one little touch. Maybe it’s the leftover tension between us that Ari so rudely interrupted last night.
“It is, Olive. Now, I don’t know what you’re up to, but I do know that you called out of work, which doesn’t seem like something you would do. If you’re not sick, which we both know you aren’t, can you at least tell me what’s going on?”
