“She’ll only be gone for three days.”
“Perfect.”
I frowned, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he’d practically carried me in here. I thought I was prepared, but I was still jolted by the intense blue, and by the way they were fixed on me.
“Sam,” I managed. “You have a life. A job.”
“He’s my son too, Ellie. All the time. Not just when it’s convenient. And this is my life.”
My throat swelled like I was going to cry. Why did he have to be so good? This would be so much easier if he didn’t want to be a dad.
That’s what you’d counted on, wasn’t it? When you called him?
The realization was an ugly one. When I thought he’d ghosted me, I’d been choked. But part of me—a big part—felt vindicated. I’d been right about him. I could rely on that brick of disappointment, knowing it’s exactly what I’d expected.
But Sam had been nothing like I’d thought.
He wasn’t what I wanted.
But maybe, he was what I needed.
Sam’s eyes chose that moment to drop to my boots. “Shit. I should have taken those off.” His voice was admonishing, like he was talking to himself.
“I shouldn’t have fainted.”
“Then I wouldn’t get to take care of you,” Sam said.
Heat sprang across my insides, intensifying when he reached down and undid the double knot on my left boot.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said quickly. He couldn’t do that. “I’m fine. I’ll take them off in a minute.”
Embarrassment pinged my insides. “I’ve been working in them all day.”
Sam’s lips tilted up. “You think I’m scared of smelly feet, Ellie?”
I groaned, tipping my head back on the pillow. “You should be.”
“It takes a lot to scare me.”
I tipped my chin back down, narrowing my eyes at him.
He chuckled, looking down as he brought his hands to the other boot. “Okay, finding out I was a dad was admittedly one thing that scared the shit out of me. But I’m over it now. I’m thrilled now, Ellie.”
He didn’t look up as he said that, but I heard the emotion in his voice. I felt it in my chest like an unfurling rose.
Sam pulled the laces on the first boot, releasing the bow. I was mesmerized by his fingers slipping into the tight loops; his beautiful, strong fingers hooking into each one. Not for the first time, I marveled at his hands; the angles of his knuckles, the thick veins running over their backs. As he switched to the other side, his movements thoughtful and unhurried, each little loosening he created felt somehow sensual.
Finally he was done that part, and his hands went to my heel and toe. The heavy work boot slipping off my foot felt so good I couldn’t trap the little moan I let out.
Sam’s lips twitched, but still he didn’t look up.
He lowered it onto the floor, then repeated the process on the other side.
“Socks?” he asked.
“I’m good.”
I desperately wanted them off. But they were gross and sweaty. I couldn’t have him touch them.
