Chapter 7

Seven

Sam

"How old are they?"

Roman took his time answering. First, he sipped his drink. Once he put the glass down, he opened the bag and took the small foil pan of lasagna out. Sam felt her stomach rumble at the delicious aroma.

"My daughter is twenty-nine. And my son is twenty-two."

He eyed her with interest for a moment, but when she didn't react, he looked back at his food. The tables in front of Giancarlo's were full, as she had expected, so they had walked a bit further away from Book & Barrel and claimed a park bench where they now sat side by side.

"You're not married?" She tipped her head. His long, elegant fingers were bare. No sign of a wedding ring, no telltale line where a wedding ring should be if he had slipped it off and put it in his pocket.

"Divorced," he answered.

Sam felt that awareness jolt through her body again, but she snuck a quick little breath and reminded herself to chill.

"Do you surf?" she asked him, noticing the way his shoulders slumped with relief when she changed the subject. She was curious about his ex-wife. About his kids. But she was curious, too, about him. His interests. His hobbies.

He laughed as he cut off a neat little bite with his fork and lifted it to his mouth. Sam watched him chew, eyes drawn to his Adam's apple as he swallowed. Dark five o'clock shadow covered his cheeks and his neck. Sam squeezed her fingers into a fist as she imagined smoothing her fingertips over his chin. His lips.

Damn Vivian for bringing the new doctor up. Maybe if they hadn't had that little discussion again—the one where Sam insisted she wasn't interested in anyone—kissing him right now wouldn't be front and center in her mind.

She snorted softly and sipped her own drink.

Yes, it would. No way she could talk to a man this pretty and not want to kiss him.

For starters.

"I did back in college," he answered her. "Went to Florida with some buddies a few times. We did a lot of surfing."

She smiled, amused at the idea of this very mature, put together man as a partying college student.

"Lot of drinking, too," he admitted with an almost bashful smile.

"College," she mumbled.

"Did you date him?"

Surprised, confused, by his question, Sam nearly spit her next sip out. She looked at him with a frown.

"Date who?"

"The blond guy in the restaurant."

"God, no. He's gotta be ten years younger than me. If not more."

"And?"

"No." She shook her head. "I put up with a lot when I was teaching. When I moved here, I decided I wasn't going to do it anymore."

Roman nodded as he took another bite. He swallowed and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. "I have questions."

"What?"

"First. You put up with a lot when you were teaching. What does that mean? Your students hit on you?"

"No." She sighed. "No. Some of them said things kids that age shouldn't say. Shouldn't understand. Some of the dads hit on me. And I mean, I dated a few guys I taught with. One of them was just out of college, so much younger than me. We lasted for about two weeks."

"Why the breakup?"

"Not so into video games and cheap beer."

He chuckled and held his glass out to her. She tapped hers to his, and they both took a sip.

"And you decided you weren't going to do…what…exactly anymore?"

"Put up with the shit most guys want to dish out."

"So, what do you do with yourself here?" he asked. "Surely you didn't move to Love Beach just to work, did you?"

"No." She leaned back on the bench and turned to look at the water. "But I do love it. How could I not? It's a beautiful place. I love wine. I love books. I love Viv."

"But?"

"I have friends here. We have a book club. We drink together. I walk on the beach. I do a yoga class."

"But you don't date?"

"Haven't for a while."

"Any pickleball leagues here?"

Sam smirked. "There are, old man. Vivian plays in one, actually. I'll tell her you're interested."

He met her eyes. "In pickleball."

She nodded.

"I feel rude for eating in front of you."

"I'm fine." She held her hand up to wave his concern away.

"Seriously. There's enough here to feed a family. Do you want a bite?"

Her belly fluttered with girlish excitement. There was only one fork. She would have to put her lips where his had been if she took a bite. Before she could answer him, Roman held the fork out to her and offered her a bite of the cheesy lasagna, still steaming and smelling delicious.

Eyes locked with his, she licked her lips and leaned in to take the bite. Roman watched her face as he slid the fork into her mouth. She licked her lips again when he slipped the fork from her lips. His eyebrows arched a bit, and then she covered her mouth, wishing for a napkin.

"What about a community theater?"

"Yes." She answered him around the food in her mouth.

"Concerts?"

She nodded again. "Love Beach has a small symphony orchestra. And yeah, now and then, there's a big concert. Live music on the beach during the summer."

"Do you work every night?"

"No." She swallowed her lasagna and washed it down with another swallow of her drink. While she was a bourbon drinker, wine would be better with the lasagna. "But I should probably get back now."

He nodded, but they sat a moment longer, eyes locked. Sam wasn't exactly flustered by the intensity of his stare. No, because at the moment, she wanted those eyes on her. But that awareness, that desire for him, was hot and thick in her blood. Just her damned luck. She was attracted to this guy, they were having an interesting conversation, and she had to go back to work.