9. Sam

Igroan. My head is pounding with my pulse. God, I feel like shit. With extreme caution, in the hopes of not making my headache worse, I reach over to grab my phone. The screen lights up, and I squint to read the numbers as pain rhythmically thumps through me.

What the fuck did I drink last night? After Carter and I shared vulnerabilities, we decided to move on to more fun topics, which was when we got into our favorite drinks in college. I forced him to try a pineapple upside-down shot, and he told me my life would change when I tried a Jolly Rancher shot. Then several more shots followed with the guys, and everything after that is a bit of a blur.

A text notification forces me to blink the sleep from my eyes, and I attempt to sit up. I wait for my head to stop spinning before I read the message.

Carter

Good morning! I’m going to bet you feel awful today. There’s Advil and a glass of water on your nightstand. Your car is still at Donna’s. We had a great time last night, and you’re a delightful drunk.

I groan again, only in embarrassment instead of pain this time. The Advil and water are where Carter said they would be, so I down both before I attempt to respond to his text.

Me

I don’t think there are enough words to accurately describe my embarrassment this morning. I’m so sorry I made you take care of me.

That’s not even close to good enough, but it’s all I can manage with minimal brain function right now. I get out of bed to brush my teeth and take a shower. The hot water helps wake me up, and I feel marginally better once I’m dressed.

My phone buzzes with another message as I head downstairs to brew a cup of coffee.

Carter

No apologies necessary. I had fun and thoroughly enjoyed your rendition of Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space” on the way home.

Me

Cue utter mortification.

Suddenly, a memory pops into my head, and I have to confirm my utter shamelessness.

Me

Oh my God… Did I force you to cuddle with me, too?

Carter

I wouldn’t say force is the right word, but you did insist quite strongly.

Me

This couldn’t get any worse. I owe you so big.

Carter

In an effort toward full transparency, I feel like I should also tell you that you offered to give me a blow job for helping you home.

At that, I know I can’t keep texting him. I click on his name to call him instead.

He answers on the first ring with a laugh. “Hi.”

“I don’t know how to apologize to you in a big enough way to make up for my awful behavior.”

Carter starts to laugh harder, and the sound makes me smile. “You don’t owe me an apology. I really did enjoy taking care of you. You were adorable.”

“I don’t even remember how I managed to get that drunk. And why are you not suffering?” I take a sip of my coffee, thoroughly destroying the inside of my mouth in my hurry to cure this hangover faster.

“You really loved that Jolly Rancher shot, and despite my warning, you kept buying them for the whole group. I stopped drinking after the first one because I had a feeling you guys would need someone sober enough to get you all home.”

I gasp. “I kept calling you Daddy Carter. Oh, Jesus.”

Carter starts laughing hysterically, and I find myself laughing with him. Thank God he’s not running away from me as fast as he can.

“You did. And you’d get this little pout on your face when I’d give you water to drink. You’d chug it down, though, so I was appeased.”

“No wonder I’m not throwing up this morning,” I mutter. An idea pops into my head that should be a win-win for everyone. I hope. “Do you have any plans tonight?”

“No, why?”

“Maybe I could cook you dinner as a thank-you? I’m not a master chef, so don’t have high expectations, but I can hold my own enough for it to taste good.”

Carter chuckles. “I’d like that. Even if I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“Well, I do. How’s seven sound?”

“I’ll be there.”

I end the call after a quick goodbye and then start making a list of what I’ll need from the store. I have one meal I can make from scratch, lasagna. We did a team-building thing at the house where a local chef came in to teach us how to make a few different meals, including lasagna. I don’t know how much “team-building” happened, but I do know our meals improved two-fold after that day, which is probably why Tucker did it in the first place.

So, I make a huge pan when I’m feeling like a home-cooked meal. Otherwise, I grill or rip and dump whatever frozen food I have on hand.

Once I have a list made, I make a breakfast bland enough to not make me want to throw up and then string together enough brain cells to get my car back. This is a pain in the ass, and I want to punch my past self for being this stupid. Why did I drink that much? Especially in front of the guy I like. I am never this big of an idiot.

Thankfully, Brody is with it enough to pick me up, so by the time afternoon rolls around, he’s dropped me off at Donna’s.

I head straight to the grocery store from there, since I’m already out. It’s busy today. Everyone else must be using their Sunday afternoon to run errands.

As usual, I’m stopped by several people I know from town. I’ve lived here for almost six years now and have only just recently gotten used to people knowing who I am. And it’s not just them knowing my name. They know what I do, that my mom lives in Greensboro, and that I live in Quinn and Cooper’s rental. If there is a tidbit of information about me, they likely know about it. On the outside, it sounds invasive, but once I got to know the townspeople, I understood that their nosiness is how they show love.

Take Quinn and Cooper, for example. They just had a baby, and I know there hasn’t been a week since they came home from the hospital where someone hasn’t brought them a casserole dish. Or after Jane Dobson’s husband left her and their four kids without a single word, everyone pitched in to help line up babysitters and meals. They even gave her cash to get her through a few months of bills and helped her find a job. When I first took the job in Sonoma, I had no idea I’d be living in such a welcoming community, but every day since I moved here, I’ve been more grateful than the last.

“Samuel Shields, what are you doing out on a Sunday afternoon?” Alice Jackson’s southern lilt floats across the produce section toward me.

“Hey, Alice. Just trying to find some decent tomatoes. How are you?” I dig through the stack and land on one that will suffice.

“Just peachy, sweetheart. My grandbaby is healthy. Both my sons are in happy, committed relationships, and I am one happy momma.” She grins. The woman is beautiful for being close to sixty. Her brown hair has streaks of silver that act almost like highlights, and her soft face has only the laugh lines of a happy life.

“You deserve all the happiness.”

“You’re such a sweet talker.” She winks at me. “How’s that boyfriend of yours?”

“Oh, well. We broke up.” I grimace.

“I’m sorry, honey. To be honest, he wasn’t my favorite person, but I hate that you’re sad about it.”

I make a face at her. “You never met him.”

“Exactly! How good of a man can he be if you don’t wanna introduce me to him?” She huffs, making me laugh.

“You’re a handful, woman. Maybe one day I’ll get to introduce you to my forever guy.”

“Your lips to God’s ears, my dear boy. I’ve got to get going. Rob’s going to wonder if I got lost.” She squeezes my arm and leaves me with a giant smile on my face. As much as I love my mom, sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to grow up with Alice and Rob as my parents. I can’t imagine how different my life would have turned out if I’d had that kind of stability.

Shaking off that melancholy thought, I finish getting groceries and head home.

The wet rag swipes across my already clean counter. Carter should be here any minute, and let’s just say I haven’t been waiting all that patiently. The lasagna is in the oven, bubbling away. I’ve got a bottle of red wine open on the counter, and my nerves are about at a breaking point.

I’m pretending my nerves about seeing Carter are because I’m embarrassed about my behavior last night, but really, it’s the idea of being alone with him. Every other time we’ve hung out, it’s been with other people around us.

At least I don’t have to worry about making a fool of myself. I’ve already been a complete idiot, and he’s still willing to spend time with me.

A knock on my door brings a smile to my face. He’s here.

I rush to let him in, only to be stopped in my tracks by the gorgeous sight in front of me. With his dark hair swooped back off his forehead and a tight button-down shirt stretched across his chest, I’m having a hard time finding my voice. Add his sideways grin into the mix and I’m pretty sure my brain has melted.

“Hi.”

I blink at Carter. “You’re beautiful. I mean… Hi. Hello.” I drop my head to my chest with a sigh as I step back to let Carter into my house. How does he turn me inside out every time I’m near him? I can go from the self-assured, outgoing guy I am to a bumbling idiot the second I’m in his presence.

“I wasn’t sure what to bring, so I just made some cookies. I hope you don’t have any allergies.” Carter lifts a large Tupperware container in the air.

“No, no allergies. But you didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to.”

His blue eyes twinkle under the lights in my foyer, and as I take him in, I find myself moving closer without a thought. I palm his cheeks and kiss him with a soft press of my lips against his. He hums in pleasure, the sound vibrating under my hands and lips. I tilt his head to one side to give myself more room to explore. He tastes like minty gum and lust, and I’m officially addicted to him.

How can one man have this big of an effect on me without even trying? I’ve dated my fair share of guys, but not a single one has ever given me butterflies and a boner at the same time the way Carter has.

Needing more of him, I push him until his back is pressed against my door. His little “oof” makes me smile. What other noises could I bring out of him? My cock fills at the thought of finding out.

One of Carter’s hands starts to roam my body as our kiss deepens. The slide of our tongues hints at what it could feel like in other places, and I press my body against his.

“Fuck,” I whisper when the hard ridge of his arousal grinds against my own.

“Do you smell that?” Carter frowns at me.

His question doesn’t quite penetrate my lust fog. “Mm-hmm. You smell fucking delicious. I just want to eat every inch of you.”

Carter whimpers and then shakes his head. “No. Sam, I think something’s burning.”

What he’s saying finally registers, and I pull away from him. The smell of smoke permeates the air.

“Oh, shit! The lasagna.” I sprint toward the kitchen and yank open the oven. Heat smacks me in the face as smoke spills into the room. I start to grab the blackened pan from the oven before coming to my senses and grabbing the pot holders.

Once the pan is on the stove, I stare at it in horror. How the fuck did I burn it this badly? I look at the timer on the oven only to see it still holding the number forty-five on the display. I must not have ever hit start when I set the timer.

My shoulders drop in defeat. “The whole thing is ruined.”

Carter’s arms wrap around my waist as he peaks over my shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Happens to the best of us. Maybe it’s just the top layer?”

Hope starts to niggle in my belly. I snatch up a spatula and start to scoop the top layer off. Underneath, the sauce is boiling but doesn’t seem to be burned. I grab a fork from one of the place settings I put out on the breakfast bar and dip it into the lasagna. After letting it cool for a second, I give it a try and immediately regret the decision. I end up spitting it out in the sink as Carter laughs.

“Definitely ruined. It tastes like straight ash.”

Carter grimaces with humor still shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

I shrug to cover my disappointment.

“At least the smoke detectors aren’t going off,” he says right as the beeping begins. I look up at him, and we both start laughing at the absurdity of this whole situation. I race to open a window as well as the door to my backyard while Carter grabs a dish towel to wave away the smoke from the detector.

Finally, the screeching ends, bringing a ringing silence with it.

“Sooo, you know any good firefighters?” Carter teases.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I stick my tongue out at him. “How does takeout sound?”