Chapter 14

Lainey

A few streets from the cafe, a park had opened up a seasonal market. Sam led me through the stalls, only dropping my hand when he sallied up to a local farm stand. Turns out Sam had a thing for organic produce.

It should have been boring to spend the better part of an hour discussing tomatoes, but this man continued to amaze. Getting him riled up about vegetables was the highlight of my week, and he humored me by creating an in-depth pro/con list for pesticides. (Virtually all cons, he informed me with a disappointed shake of his head, “Lainey, the bees .”).

He waited patiently while I chatted with a woman selling hand-painted glassware after I noticed her sign said she was based out of Houston.

As we walked and the sun rose, he stowed our jackets in his backpack. It meant that when he brushed his fingers across my bare back to point at a painting, I felt it in every nerve in my body. When he gestured to the canvas, the backs of his fingers stroked up and down. I mumbled some sort of response. His hand dipped an inch or two lower when he directed me to the pop-up booth with the Molido logo splashed across it. Jordan pushed two mango lemonades and a box of cookies our way before shooing us off without taking Sam’s card.

“I’m so jealous of that, you know.”

He glanced at me as he took a cookie out of the wax paper. “My pastry supplier? They’d hook you up, too.”

“Yes, because of you .” I frowned down at the box, picking wisely. “You’re beloved.”

He grunted. “We’re a close crew. You’re beloved, too. You have more friends in the department than I’ve had in my life.”

“Eh. I have people I’m friendly with. I’m good at my job and people like that.” I shrugged. “I don’t have anyone who’d notice my tire pressure is low, you know? Mmph thith ith amathing.” I held up my half-eaten cookie for him to see. I washed it with some lemonade while he looked at me curiously. His cookie remained uneaten. “What?”

“That seems hard. Not having close people around.”

I took another bite, squirming under the gaze that was suddenly too perceptive for comfort. “You’re used to having the crew. I’m not, I guess.”

He didn’t let me squirm for much longer, cupping my wrist to get my attention. “You should have that. People you love, that you’re close to.”

I understood why he looked so distressed. For someone who’d spent their life building and maintaining healthy, long-term relationships, the way I kept things at surface-level might seem a little bewildering. Seeing as this was only our first non-date, it was challenging to explore this with him. A crippling fear of intimacy wasn’t something you could drop casually into conversation.

Even if it was somewhat less terrifying when I was considering it with him.

“Close relationships,” I hummed instead, squinting. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re happy to apply for the job?”

He just bit into his cookie.

◆◆◆

We made a second loop around the market. Then a third. I wasn’t sure what the plan was for the rest of the day, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. The intimate little bubble that formed around us was too precious to pop. I was having more fun walking around with Sam than I ever did in the OR.

I paused over some interesting essential oil blends while he’d gotten sucked into a vintage book kiosk that boasted a significant section of wartime biographies. He got more riled up about his books than the produce.

“These people are going through hell. Literally. And they keep going. I might never know what it’s like to be so dedicated to a cause.” His vehemence made me bite my lip.

He left with three books, but didn’t bat an eye when I confessed to being one of those cliché Americans who didn’t read and instead filled my time binging Netflix and old reality TV shows. He’d asked me just as many questions about my shows as I’d asked about his books. Maybe even more.

We were deep in conversation about a Korean drama that had recently consumed my life when my stomach started rumbling, awoken by the homesick smell of roasting meat.

“Mmm. Barbecue. Do you smell that?” Sam gave me a look I couldn’t interpret. I tried to remember the details of his taco order from the other night and came up blank. “Oh, Lord, you’re not a vegetarian, are you? I mean, it’s fine if you are, but I’m going to get some pulled pork. If you have any ethical issues with eating meat, you’re going to need to avert your eyes.”

“No concerns.”

“Where’s the—oh.” I realized that we were already standing in line for the food truck wafting the incredible smells my way. I was nearly close enough to feel the heat from the smoker. “We’re getting barbecue?”

I squinted up at him, once more cursing the fact that I’d accidentally left my sunglasses at home.

“Yeah.” He shifted, slipping his bulk in between me and the sun. “You’re on a mission.”

“I…Yes. I am.”

Moving from Texas to Chicago had been a shock to the system in more ways than one. I found myself alone, cut off from my friends and family, and the world I’d always known, and in a new culture that took me a while to understand.

I was a full-fledged convert, and would argue about the best Chicago-style pizzeria with the enthusiasm of a local, but my little southern heart still yearned for good pit barbecue. I’d been on a quest for years to find a brisket that reminded me of home. So far, nothing had measured up.

“These guys are good,” Sam assured as we shuffled forward.

“More than just good!” A woman in front of us turned around. “Best in the city. They’re only at this market during the summer and they run out fast. I spent all week thinking about this. You’re not really a vegetarian, are you?”

“No, ma’am,” Sam replied, solemn. She sniffed and turned around. I realized that we’d actually been standing in line for quite some time, and that the queue of people stretching behind us was growing longer by the minute. I’d been too absorbed by him to notice.

When I couldn’t decide what I wanted, Sam convinced me to split a sampler with him, complete with several sides and sweet tea that the cashier assured me was authentic. While we waited for our order, I surveyed the market, but my eyes flickered back to Sam again and again.

He didn’t speak, as usual. My mind churned for another moment before I blurted, “Did you bring me here just for the barbecue?”

He paused for a split-second. “Yes.” He looked down at me and I realized how close we were standing. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Workout, breakfast, barbecue…” I frowned at him. “What else do you have planned?”

He shrugged, unconcerned about the lack of space between our bodies. “Walk along the lake. Go back to my place. Make pasta.”

“Back to your place.”

“Mmhm.”

“To make pasta.”

“Probably a salad, too. Wine.”

If any other man had taken me on a non-date and told me we were going back to his house, I’d have assumed the agenda skewed more towards getting naked, rather than cooking dinner. I might not know Sam as well as he knew me, but I knew I could trust him if he said we were only going back to his place to make pasta. I was equally intrigued and disappointed that sex didn’t seem to be on his itinerary today.

“Why? Why the pasta? Why any of this? No filter.” I pointed at him, hooking my finger into his shirt to pull him an inch closer. He was happy to shuffle forward, a soft smile deepening the corner of his lips.

“You like to work out. You love barbecue. We spend all day cooped up in a hospital. I thought you might like to see the sun for a bit.” He slipped his fingers along the skin of my arm. “You might also just want to sit on my couch with a glass of wine. I’m selfish enough to want you to do all that with me.”

I did want that. All of it. The sunlight, the pastries, the conversation…to walk along the shore and then sit on the couch with a glass of wine. Even more urgently, I realized I wanted to sit on his couch—not just any couch—with a glass of wine. I wanted to recapture that cozy, comfortable feeling I’d gotten the night his family had fed me tacos while the sun went down. It all seemed perfect. With one exception.

“Would you kiss me?” I wasn’t sure if it was a demand or a request, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand this close to him much longer, on a day he’d specifically designed for me, without his lips on mine.

Sam didn’t need to be asked twice. He gripped the bow of my romper where it tied between my shoulder blades, pressing me closer. The difference in our heights was laughable, but between his pulling and my tugging, we ended up exactly where we needed to be. He didn’t tease as he pressed his lips firmly against mine.

When his other hand settled on my bare waist, I gasped. His tongue swept inside. Heat speared through me at the contact and I opened my mouth wider, silently begging him to do it again. He obliged.

He tasted like coffee and sugar and he kissed me like he’d been doing it for decades. Slow and methodical, in a way I didn’t know men were capable of. His hand tightened on the fabric of my romper, twisting. In return, I clawed at his shirt and my fingers cupped his neck, straining to get him closer. His head tilted to take more and the slightest edge of his teeth caught my lower lip.

A low grunt answered my whimper. My hand slipped up his shirt to feel the stacked muscles of his abdomen. He gripped me tighter.

“…Sir?”

It took him a second to pull away. I was halfway up his shirt.

“Thanks.” Sam’s voice was rough. When he turned back to me, he held a tray of food between us, looking sheepish. My chest heaved while my lips tingled. I could still feel the rasp of his beard against my cheek. For a wild moment, I considered tossing the tray to the ground and jumping on him. He’d catch me.

He gave me a warning look, like my plans were clearly visible on my face. They probably were. I felt like my clothes were going to be singed off my body at any moment. He wielded the tray between us. “Meat.”

I laughed and followed him to a picnic table without tackling him. I bit my lip when he sat close enough for our legs to press together. Groaned when the food actually lived up to the hype.

I tried to ignore that voice inside warning that I was treading on dangerous ground, along with the little smile on Sam’s face that seemed to say he knew it, too.