He looks almost nothing like the boy I met years before. While his body has filled out, chest and arms pulling tightly on the fabric of his shirt, his face is ashen, and his demeanor is anything but warm. Light-brown hair falls around his face, resting on broad shoulders. His eyes are dull, missing the life and exuberance I remember so well. I notice his work boots, dirty jeans, and flannel shirt tied at the waist. But he’s still Sam, and he is still the reason I’m here.
“You probably don’t remember me,” I start to say, leaning back against the wooden rail. “We met a long time ago in Chicago.”
Sam’s brown eyes narrow, and he takes a quick stride toward me. “I wouldn’t lean on that—”
Just as the wood behind me gives out, he slings a strong arm around my waist and pulls me in hard, throwing us both away from the edge.
I can barely catch my breath. “Holy shit.”
“I guess my mother didn’t warn you about this.”
He is more muscular than I was prepared for, and I am struck by how enveloped I am in his frame. The last time I was this close to a male was when I was with Jay. The memory of him blazes through my mind, and I can’t help but flinch.
“You okay?” Sam flashes concern for a moment.
I make myself relax. Sam is not Jay, and he’s not hurting me.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“My truck is full of lumber to repair the whole deck.”
“Okay. I’m fine. You’re fine,” I say dumbly.
The truth is that Sam actually stinks to high heaven, and he’s dirty and sweaty and frankly pretty gross right now, but I cannot stop looking into his eyes.
“You smell like fish,” I say without thinking.
“Been up since before dawn on a boat. Extra money.” His arm is still holding me against him, and he’s matching my intent gaze, but he feels cold, closed off. “Technically, this house is mine, so it wasn’t really my mother’s right to rent out the top unit,” he says, not concealing his irritation.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It needs a lot of work, and I haven’t gotten to it yet.” Then, for a moment, a spark of recognition appears in his deep brown eyes. “Stella?” His hand falls from my back. “Stella Ford.”
I nod hesitantly. “Yes.”
“What in the fuck are you doing here?”
It’s perhaps not quite the reunion I was hoping for, and now, I don’t know what to say.
“I just…needed someplace to go,” I answer meekly. Then, because he doesn’t say anything, I add, “I’ve never had lobster. You said it was good.”
He doesn’t seem much for conversation, but he’s still studying me.
“I can go. I can find somewhere else if you want. I just…”
Sam moves away, and I watch his solid swagger take him across the porch as he calls back to me, “Stay, go. I don’t really care. But I have to get to work. It’s going to be noisy. Keep the windows and doors shut, so the apartment doesn’t fill with sawdust.”
Well, so much for the happy, caretaking solid guy of years ago. I’ve just had a rude awakening in the form of Sam Bishop.
I guess I’ll have to figure out how to crack and eat a lobster on my own.
