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“I’m kidding!” she chuckled, leaning away from the towel’s trajectory.
As much as I wanted to ask my question again, I left it unspoken, letting it hang between us like a veil as I focused on wiping down the kitchen table instead. I’d already seen flashes of hesitancy in her eyes a few times since I’d first met her, and I didn’t want her to feel as though I was pushing her in any certain direction, let alone towards me.
So, I let the silence loom between us, and when Samantha finally spoke again, the edge that had previously been heard in her voice was gone, replaced by a well-controlled nonchalance.
“Ethan is his name. Levi’s father, I mean. He was my—I mean, we were engaged. But it didn’t work out. He found someone else.”
Her choice of wording earned her an inquisitive glance from me. “Is that the politically correct way of telling me the bastard cheated on you?”
She shrugged. “Perhaps.”
I hung the dish towel back on the handle of the stove. “Well, it turns out I’ve never mastered the art of political correctness, so you’ll have to excuse me if I call things like I see it.”
“There’s nothing much else to tell you,” she insisted, but her knuckles were white where her hands gripped the countertop, her fingers curled under it as she leaned back. “He lied, he cheated, and he found someone better because of it. Fast forward a couple weeks, and here I am, the newest tenant at Altaview Apartments.”
“Whoa.” I held my hands up, halting her. “You’re wrong.”
“What?” Her eyes narrowed. “I mean it, there’s nothing else to—”
“I don’t mean about that, Samantha.” My gaze bore into hers, intense. “Yes, he lied, and yes, he cheated. But be damned if he found someone better. I don’t believe it, and you shouldn’t, either.”
“Well, that’s what he thinks.”
“Well, he’s a fucking idiot, then, isn’t he?”
Samantha’s gaze never faltered, but amusement tugged her lips into a faint grin. “You’re right, you don’t do politically correct very well.”
“Tried to warn you.”
She held up her hands. “No warning needed. It’s just...refreshing, I guess.”
I gave her my most debonair smile, puffing my chest out like I was the king of all men. “If you like that, you should see what else I’ve got up my sleeve,” I teased, waggling my eyebrows.
Again, Samantha rolled her eyes. “God, you really do think you’re a superhero, don’t you? Levi has you brainwashed.”
“I could think of worse things to believe,” I replied with a smile. Such as you thinking the woman your fiancé cheated with is somehow better than you.
Samantha pushed away from the counter and turned to pull one of only three wine glasses from the cupboard. I hadn’t found a forth in any of the boxes to complete the set.
“Do you want a drink, Cooper?” she asked without looking at me. I watched her head to the fridge and pull a bottle of white wine from it.
“Are you trying to get me drunk already?” I pressed my hand to my heart, feigning shock. “I’m not sure how to feel about that.”
She held up the bottle, revealing that it was less than half full. “If we shared this, you’d get less than a quarter bottle of wine to yourself. If you can get drunk off that, you’d better go home, Cooper, because I won’t be able to resist making fun of you for being a lightweight.”
My hand was pressed against my chest again, and I took the bottle from her. “Jesus, first you insinuate I’m not a superhero, then you call me a lightweight. I’m really not doing a very good job of making a decent first impression, obviously.” I poured a generous amount into one of the glasses and handed it to her.
Samantha took it with a nod of gratitude, her eyes shining with humor. “You made my son smile from ear to ear, cooked supper, and cleaned my house. Yet, you think you haven’t made a good impression?”
I pushed the bottle onto the counter, pushing the second wine glass away with it. The movement also brought me closer to Samantha, and I found myself close enough that I could smell the sweet scent of her perfume, lingering tones of vanilla and sugar. “Trust me,” I said in a low voice, my mouth dangerously close to her ear. “I could definitely leave a better impression.”
It may have been a figment of my imagination, but I thought I heard her gasp. Just a sharp little noise as she sucked in a breath, but it spoke volumes.
“You’re not going to have a drink?” she stammered, trying to cover it up.
“I rarely do, to be honest.” Without thinking, I reached my hand up and gently brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t indulge.” In anything, I wanted to say. Whatever you want, Samantha, I’m game.
The way she was looking at me, her gaze hovering somewhere between my hand and my face, I thought maybe she was reading into what I’d said, too, and I paused, waiting for her to make the next move. I didn’t w
