“I shouldn’t.”
“Please? It’d help me feel like I’m not the biggest loser for getting roped in by another guy. And Max is at my parents’ for the night, so I’ve got some free time.”
Sam doesn’t answer but goes to grab his bag and returns to the table, sliding in across from me. “You want the red velvet pancakes or the lemon ricotta?”
My eyes light up as he pops open the Styrofoam container. The sweet scent of citrus assaults my senses. “I’ll take the lemon one.”
He pushes the container toward me as I unfurl my napkin and silverware. A quiet settles over us as we dig into the fluffy pancakes.
I can’t help but moan around the first delicious bite. All light and buttery, it’s just what I need after tonight.
Sam eyes me before turning his attention back to his own meal, popping a piece in his mouth.
“I didn’t take you for someone having a sweet tooth,” I say between bites.
“Every now and again after a long day at the barn.” His deep, chocolate-brown eyes stare into mine. “I like something sweet. Takes the edge off.”
“Not me. I like something stronger.”
“What might that be?” he asks.
“Shot of tequila. Maybe some dancing at The Dusty Spur.”
His jaw tics as he leans back into the booth, spinning his fork between long, thick fingers.
I wonder how good they would feel inside of me.
The thought hits me out of nowhere. Sam Shaw is off-limits. But it’s hard to get my brain and lady parts on board when he is looking at me like that.
Like he’s having his own dangerous thoughts about me.
“If I didn’t have to get back to the barn, maybe I’d buy you that shot.”
I lean across the table, dropping my fork into the container. “How about next time?”
I’m shamelessly flirting and I don’t give a damn. It feels good. Makes me feel like I’m still the same person I was before I became a mother.
My son is the most important thing in my life. I love him beyond words. But sometimes, I feel like all I am is Max’s mom.
It’s nice to have a night on my own and have a sexy man like Sam look at me like he could devour me.
I’ll take whatever I can get.
Even if I shouldn’t be doing it.
He points his fork at me. “Next time, Joey.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“I’m a man of my word.” He nods.
“Maybe that’s my problem.”
“What is?” he asks, confusion written all over his face.
“On dating. No one is a man of their word anymore.”
“Could just be that you’re only finding immature boys who don’t know how to treat a lady.”
