Page 48 of Allegiant

“Your friend Larry stopped by while you were at work.”

That makes me pause, a noodle hanging from my lips. I slurp it up. “What?”

“Yeah, he was worried about you.”

“Really?” I ask, sitting up with a slight wince. My body is sore from all the sex, but it’s a good feeling. One I’m going to relish as long as I can. Something I’ll hold on to as long as my body will let me remember.

“Yeah, he threatened me.”

I snort. “Did he really?”

“Yeah. With his cane.” He cocks his head. “How long have you known him?”

“Um, since I moved here. So, two years? I usually make him dinners and make sure his fridge is full. I mean, he’s old and can’t really take care of himself.”

Samson snorts. “I don’t believe that.”

“What? Why?”

“He’s not as fragile and helpless as he makes himself out to be.” He runs a hand over his face, and I hear the scrape of his five o’clock shadow abrading his palm. It makes something spark within me.

Fuck, who knew I’d be so insatiable?

But I need to get it under control. This is going to end soon.

I turn my gaze back to the food, pushing more into my mouth. I’m so fucking hungry.

“Did you give Larry some of this?” I ask, and Samson arches an eyebrow. “He’d love it.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you made a shit-ton.” I gesture toward the large crock pot, which is still mostly full.

He narrows his eyes at me. “Again, why the fuck would I do that? I don’t trust him.”

“What? That’s weird. He’s, like, a hundred. He’s harmless.”

Samson leans back, his fork between his fingers as he twirls it around the noodles.

“He’s not that old, and he’s definitely not harmless. I’m going to do some research. He’s far too familiar.”

“Well, you can do whatever you want, but Larry wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Samson doesn’t seem to believe me, but he lets it go, and the two of us focus on eating. When we’re done, he ushers me onto the couch to rest, moving to clean up the mess in the kitchen. I tell him I’ll do as he says if he boxes up some of the food for Larry.

He grumps and glowers but does it reluctantly, making me bite back a smile as I watch him do as I asked.

My chest swells slightly as I lean back and sip on my wine, taking in the way he moves, the way his eyes move to meet mine as he works.

A terrible and unwelcome feeling moves over me just then.

And it’s not just that Adam died a year ago tomorrow.

I wanted a distraction, and I got one, but I also got something far worse.

I’m falling for a man I can’t have. He’s too good. Too good for me.

And I don’t deserve anything good.