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Damn. He was onto her. And she didn’t even care.
“Well, Liam would have done the whole bear hug thing, and since you’re the stand-in …”
He sighed, uncrossing his arms and opening them to her. “Make it quick.”
For as long as Riley could remember, she and Sam had exchanged hugs because it was what her touchy-feely Irish family expected. He’d hugged her just like he’d hugged her sisters when he came over on Christmas and birthdays, or after they hadn’t seen each other for a while.
But with Meg and Kate the hugs had always been, well … normal. A quick good-to-see-you squeeze.
With Riley and Sam it had always been …
Awkward.
They either lingered too long or jerked back too quickly.
But this hug was something entirely different. It acknowledged what was between them even as it begged to be more than a hug.
She knew he meant it to be just a brief, token embrace. It’s what she’d meant it to be too. But the second his arms closed around her, she felt the rightness of it, and knew from the way he tensed that he did too.
Riley turned her face just slightly, letting her nose burrow into the warmth of his neck, although she stopped short of pressing her lips there. Barely.
One of his hands slid upward, his fingers playing over her spine, his breath hot against her temple.
It was not a brotherly hug.
There was a pointed clearing of throat behind them, although it took Riley a full five seconds before she could bring herself to step back from Sam.
She was fully expecting a frowning Emma.
She wasn’t disappointed.
“Riley, this must be your brother!”
Riley gave her a look that said over the top, but Emma didn’t lose the steely, determined expression as she extended a hand toward Sam. “I’m Emma Sinclair. We didn’t get a chance to meet earlier.”
“Emma, this is Sam Compton,” Riley said, keeping her voice casual. “He’s a family friend.”
“Nice to meet you,” Sam said, giving Emma an easy smile. “You’ve got a hell of an arm, by the way. It was good to have some talent on the pitcher’s mound.”
“Had to make up for the Marilyn Monroe routine happening in left field,” Emma said with a nod toward Riley. “And speaking of Ri, your charms were bountiful enough that half the Oxford guys are overlooking the fact that you delivered their defeat and are insisting that they buy you a drink. You ready?”
Riley resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The drinks were free, and more than half the Oxford guys were here with significant others. She almost corrected Emma when she saw the sulky expression on Sam’s face.
Maybe the plan was working after all.
“Sure!” she said, readjusting her droopy ponytail as she turned toward Sam. “You wanna come?”
The question was nonchalant, as though he was an afterthought and she didn’t care whether or not he joined. In fact, her tone took on just enough flippancy to suggest that she’d prefer he didn’t come.
She even let her eyes find Emma, and the two of them very intentionally exchanged the look of female friends who were worried that a big-brother figure would derail their romantic plans.
The exchange wasn’t lost on Sam. It wasn’t meant to be.
“Yeah, I could go for a beer or two,” Sam said, adjusting his hat. “Someone’s gotta make sure you two stay out of trouble.”
Riley turned away so he wouldn’t see her smile of victory.
Keep them out of trouble her ass.
