13. Kenna

13

KENNA

"When other people goose, he ganders." ~ Archie "Witty" Whitlock

My mind wandered into X-rated territory as I stood at the stove, stirring the sauce simmering in the pot. I was doing everything I could not to think about the fact that just down the hall, Sam was naked in my shower. Sure, he had a plastic bag over his leg and was seated on a stool, but that didn't take away from the fact that the rest of him was clothes-free.

Despite my best efforts, visions of water dripping down his sculpted chest, muscular arms, and washboard abs were populating my brain like Gremlins that got wet after dark.

This past week, having Sam under my roof had been a unique type of torture. I honestly hadn't thought it would be any different than him living next door, but it was. The biggest difference was coming home and finding him shirtless and fast asleep on my couch.

It had been eighteen years since I'd watched Sam sleep. Sure, I'd caught him taking a nap here and there, but not the deep sleep that only came from REM. He was just such a beautiful specimen. His square jaw. Strong cheekbones. Full lips. And long eyelashes were somehow so pretty but also rugged and sexy.

Not to mention, my entire house smelled like him. I'd always loved the way he smelled. It was a combination of his soap and natural body odor that made it uniquely Sam. Sometimes, the day after movie nights we'd have, I'd catch a whiff of it when I was sitting on my couch, but now the scent permeated every inch of my house. And, despite myself, I loved it. I was getting addicted to it. I had started craving it when I was at work or on errands. Every time I walked through the door, I inhaled deeply, and a warm tingling sensation filled my body, like I was getting a hit. It had to be his pheromones that I was reacting to. That, or I was actually an insane person.

Winnie whined at my feet. I looked down and saw that she'd brought me a sports bra. I knew that I shouldn't encourage her behavior, but I couldn't help thinking it was adorable. I broke off a piece of meatball to give to her. She loved spaghetti. Well, she loved the meatballs in the spaghetti.

As I bent down, I heard the water turn off, and I did my best not to picture Sam drying himself off, but images of a towel running over his chiseled form overtook my mind like a computer virus. Every time I erased one, another was in its place.

Just a few more days , I told myself. Sam had lived with me for ten days, and from what he was hearing from his PT, he would get his brace off right on the fourteen-day mark.

My phone rang on the counter beside me. I answered it, putting it on speaker phone so I could keep cooking.

"Hey, Ma."

"Your father wants to know what kind of music they are going to play at our party."

"Your surprise party," I stated flatly.

"What other party is there?!" She raised her voice. It wasn't that she was yelling at me; she was just passionate and expressed herself at a high volume.

"I don't know, Ma. Milo is taking care of the DJ." It was the only thing he was in charge of. I loved my brothers, but when "we'd" been tasked with throwing my parents the anniversary party, I should have known "we" meant me. I mean me is basically we upside down; the clue is in the word. Seriously, though, Mason had an excuse: he lived out of state. Milo was another story. He was just being lazy. The only thing he'd volunteered to do was hire the DJ, and now I was even involved in that.

"What did she say?" my dad shouted in the background.

"She doesn't know!" my mom yelled back.

"Tell her I don't want any country!"

Despite living in Texas for over forty years, my dad still hadn't come to appreciate country music. He was more of a metal and punk guy. My mom, on the other hand, loved herself some Garth Brooks, Dolly Parton, Tim McGraw, and Reba McEntire.

"Don't listen to him," my mother whispered into the phone.

"I'm not listening to either of you because I have nothing to do with the music. You need to talk to Milo about this."

"Okay, sweetie, let your brother know to go easy on the country."

"Did you tell her?!" my dad's voice bellowed.

"Of course, I did!"

"Ma, I gotta go. Love you." Conversations like this went nowhere. I could keep telling her that it was Milo's responsibility, but she'd told me , so she considered it off her plate. I would text my brother and let him know.

"I hope you're feeding poor Sam, Amorina. He needs his strength."

"She is."

Sam's deep voice sounded behind me. Right behind me. I hadn't heard him come in, but I could feel the heat of his body radiating off of him on my back, even through the cotton material of my shirt. His breath fanned the back of my neck as he spoke. If I rocked back the slightest bit, I'd be flush against him. A shiver raced through me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, hitting key erotic zones on its journey.

"Oh, mio bambino!" my mom cried out.

I rolled my eyes. Sam wasn't my mother's baby, which she'd just referred to him as. He was a grown man. A very grown man.

"How are you feeling?" she asked in her most sympathetic voice.

"I'm good, Ma." Even though Sam wasn't one of my mother's children, he'd always called her ‘Ma' even before he lost his own mother. "Kenna's taking good care of me."

"Good, good, good. Okay, okay, okay. Now you eat and rest."

That was my mother's answer to anything. Eat and rest. Oh, and Vicks VapoRub. There was nothing that—food, sleep, and Vicks VapoRub—couldn't cure. Not even a torn ACL.

"Bye, Ma. Love you!" I reached down to disconnect the call.

"Love you, love you, love you." She made kissy noises as I hung up the phone.

I took a deep breath and continued to stir the sauce, and Sam didn't move. I could still feel him behind me. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood as the heat of his breath fanned across my sensitive skin.

"Smells good." The gravel in Sam's tone rippled through me.

"It's your favorite," I whispered. I hadn't meant for the words to come out so breathy, but it seemed my vocal cords were temporarily paralyzed by lust.

I froze when his left then right hand rested on either side of the counter, his arms caging me inside of his frame as he leaned down. I could swear he sniffed my hair before placing a kiss on the top of my head. "Yes, it is."

I closed my eyes as goosebumps rose on the bare skin of my arms and legs and tingles swirled low in my belly. Unable to resist his magnetic forcefield, I felt myself leaning back against his upper body when the alarm on the stove went off indicating the garlic bread was done.

The sound startled me, and I jumped in the air. My feet left the ground and my head hit his jaw.

"Ahh," he groaned before hissing between clenched teeth.

I looked over my shoulder and saw there was blood coming from his mouth. More specifically, his bottom lip.

"Oh shit! Sorry."

He stepped back and I rushed and grabbed a piece of ice from the freezer.

"Sorry," I apologized again as I lifted the ice to his mouth.

"You're not gonna kiss it and make it better?" His eyes twinkled as he took the ice from me.

I pretended that his suggestion didn't act as an accelerant to the flames of arousal that were always burning whenever he was within a hundred yards of me, making them roar to five-alarm fire status.

When he didn't get a response from me, Sam hobbled over to the kitchen table as I filled our plates and ignored his comment. Just like I had every other innuendo or flirty remark he'd made in the ten days. He was a flirt. And I was the only woman he was seeing. I knew he didn't mean anything by it.

As we sat down to eat, he swirled the noodles on his fork and then took a large bite. I watched in awe as he finished off every morsel of food that had been piled up in under five minutes. He and the twins had always talked about entering eating contests because all three men were basically human vacuums when you put a plate of food in front of them, especially my mom's cooking. Although, mine was a close second.

Once his plate was clean, he grabbed the pills I'd set out beside his water and downed them, then wiped his mouth.

"Did you even taste it?" I asked, looking down at my own plate which barely had a dent in it.

His head tilted to the side, and his eyes narrowed.

"What?" I asked as I took a sip of my Dr. Pepper.

"Did I tell you that I wanted to taste your bodily fluids?"

I gasped at his question, which wasn't great because I had liquid in my throat and I began to choke. Sam rose from his chair and patted my back.

"I'm okay," I managed to get out as I waved him off. "It just went down the wrong pipe."

I hoped my choking episode would have distracted him from his question, but it hadn't.

"Did I say that?"

"You said a lot of things, but you were high."

"What else did I say?"

He was staring at me with an intensity that made me wonder if his memory was not limited to my bodily fluids. Did he remember that he'd told me he loved me? Did he remember that he'd told me he was in love with me?

My phone rang and I looked down and saw it was Jonah calling.

"Jonah?" he asked.

I nodded.

"You're not gonna answer it?"

"I'm eating. I'll call him back." I liked Jonah. I really did. What was not to like? He was hot, gainfully employed, a good father, and even spoke highly about his ex.

Those were all green flags. There was only one problem with him, one red flag, he wasn't Sam. Which was ridiculous. Sam and I were never going to happen. I needed to move on. That was difficult to do with him under my roof.

As if reading my mind, Sam asked, "Do you remember before the football game, you said that you thought we shouldn't hang out so much?"

I nodded as I took a bite of garlic bread.

"What did you mean by that?" The look in his eyes broke my heart. I could see the vulnerability that he rarely showed anyone. I knew that he wasn't going to like what I was going to say, which is why I'd planned to put this conversation off until after he was back on his feet.

"We can talk about it later," I suggested.

"No, let's talk about it now."

I took another drink from my soda as I tried to gather my thoughts. I'd been dreading having this talk, so maybe it was better if I just got it over with.

"I feel stuck," I blurted out. Not the most eloquent start, but hey, I'd never claimed to be particularly articulate. It was easier for me to write what I was feeling than to say it out loud.

"Stuck?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah, I mean, everyone is getting married and having babies and doing amazing things in their careers, and I'm…I'm not."

"You're working on your book."

Yeah, the book I can't finish because I don't actually know what any of the things my protagonist is supposed to feel.

"I quit teaching five years ago, and I still haven't finished it." I shook my head, trying not to get sidetracked. "But that's not the point, my point is, I need to make room in my life for the things I want."

"The things you want," Sam parroted slowly.

I stared down at my plate, but I'd completely lost my appetite. I set my fork down.

When I didn't respond, he prompted, "Things like what? Do you want to get married? Do you want to have babies?"

"Yes. I do. But to do that, I need to actually have a relationship."

My phone lit up with a text, and I looked down. It was from Jonah.

"Is that Jonah again?" Sam asked, sounding a little irritated.

I nodded. "He traded a shift and is asking if I want to go to Movies in the Park. They're showing A Christmas Story."

Movies in the Park had always been a summer event in Wishing Well. But this year, they'd decided, weather permitting, to show Christmas-themed movies every Saturday night between Thanksgiving and New Year's Eve.

"You should go," he said flatly.

"I should?" I asked as I lifted my eyes to his.

"Yeah." Sam had never looked at me like he was looking at me now. I almost didn't recognize the man staring back at me.

There was a blankness in his eyes. A coldness. A distance.

When Sam shone his light on you, it felt like the sun, but when he didn't, it was the coldest, darkest shadows.

"I'll clean up. You should go ," he emphasized.

I stood, holding back tears. This had always been my greatest fear. That one day, he would shut me out. I'd witnessed him do it to countless other women. He'd go from hot to cold in the blink of an eye. Even though I'd always feared it, until this moment, I never actually thought it would happen to me. I was wrong.