“Figured you’d crush it, and you did,” he praises.
I step into him before I can stop myself, just for a second, and I hate how natural it still feels. His arms wrap around me like armor as he glares at Rick. I should shake it off, but something in me stops with the way Rick’s posture shifts seeing it.
Rick’s tone changes instantly. “Sammy boy! Didn’t know the Mrs. would be here?—”
“You mean my wife, whose photo is on every directional sign in town?” Sam steps slightly in front of me. “Yeah, shocking.”
“I was just discussing business,” Rick replies with a forced ease.
Sam’s smile is all teeth. “I bet you were.”
Rick claps his hands and backs away. “Well. Great turnout. See you around.” He turns and vanishes out the door. The second it shuts, I exhale.
Sam turns to me, brows furrowed in concern. “You okay?”
“I am now that he’s gone.” I try to smile, but my hands feel a little unsteady. “Why are you here?”
“I parked down the street, keeping an eye on things. Just wanted to make sure you were safe. I know it’s a great neighborhood, but open houses can be dangerous. Especially when a beautiful woman is running the show.”
Whether on instinct or maybe muscle memory, I lean into him. His hand comes to my waist, steady, like he’s anchoring me without pulling me in. I tilt my head up before I can stop myself. His gaze drops to my mouth.
And for a split second, everything in me wants to close the distance. His grip tightens just slightly as he feels it too.
But he doesn’t move, doesn’t push. I forget, for one moment, all the reasons I've been so careful. The distance I've been maintaining. His weeks of steady deposits, budgeting, and build notes pressing against the wall I've been building just as fast. And then?—
“Becca?” Charles’s voice cuts in from the back door.
I step back immediately, heat rushing to my face, my pulse too fast. “In here, Charles!”
Sam steps away, eyes dark. I brush imaginary lint off my dress, trying not to look like I just thought about kissing my husband.
“How did it go—oh! Hello, young man.”
“Hi, sir,” Sam says, composed. “Just dropping off some celebratory flowers for my wife’s open house.”
Charles eyes us both, then smiles. “Good man.”
As he steps away, giving us a moment, Sam touches my arm lightly.
“When you’re ready, I would like to talk, really talk. I’ve got things to tell you, and I want to make sure there are no more secrets between us.”
I melt a little more at that. “I can’t tonight, it’s my lastnight with Bernie; the Rothschilds get here tomorrow morning.”
Sam brightens. I see hope in his eyes.
“I’m moving into the cabin,” I blurt quickly.
Saying it out loud makes it real in a way the paperwork never did. I don’t know if the declaration makes me feel braver or lonelier. Probably both.
Sam instantly deflates. “There isn’t too much left. Bennet has made excellent progress … Well, I guess you too. I am going to stay there until I get the first booking, and then … I’m not sure. Phoenix has offered for me to move in with her until her duplex is fixed.”
I can tell Sam wants to jump in and fix this, but he bites his tongue and nods.
“Okay, be careful. Call me if you need anything.” He kisses my forehead, lingering for a long moment, and then walks out.
Charles walks up to me, watching Sam as he leaves.
“Did I tell you that Dahlia and I were married for over fifty-four years?” he asks, breaking the silence.
