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“That’s good. Were you going to give me the friend speech too?”
“No.” He rubbed the book against the muscles suddenly quivering in his thigh. “I was going to tell you I bought a bed. It’s being delivered Wednesday.”
“That’s wonderful. Unless you did it because I pushed you too far too fast.”
“I needed a push.”
“Like you needed a push to cancel your next billboard order?” she asked softly.
He closed his eyes. “Saw that, hmm?”
“Yes. And it totally wasn’t necessary. I was out of line.”
“No, you weren’t. My wife’s gone. I loved her the best I could at the time and yeah, I’ll always wonder what I could’ve done differently. But I don’t need to put up signs to try to atone any longer. Whatever is done is done. As much as I loved them, I have to find a way to let her and my daughters go.” He fisted his hand around the book, barely noticing when he bent back the cover. “I’m going to need help, Rory. I’ve never asked anyone for help before but I’m asking you.”
“Whatever you need. I’ll do my best, God help you,” she said, giving a watery sniffle. “But I’ll try.”
“Thank you. I can’t ask for anything more.”
“Yes, you can.” She cleared her throat. “You can ask me over to see your new bed. As friends,” she added hastily.
There was no stopping his grin. It filled his face, stretching across it until his cheeks hurt. “Are you busy next Friday?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, okay.” Disappointment shot through his system and erased his smile. “Well, then maybe the next—”
“The next Friday I have a date to go to a car show. Sorry, no dice.” He loved hearing the tickle of laughter in her voice again. Anything else seemed wrong. She was meant to laugh and tease and make love…
He shifted on the bed at the immediate twitch in his cock. One thing at a time.
“Well, then why don’t you tell me when you’re free and we’ll go from there?”
“You didn’t ask who I was seeing next Friday night. You might know him. He’s about six-foot-fifty and has enormous feet and an equally enormous—”
“I get the picture.” He laughed. “God, Rory, I can’t wait for next Friday night.”
“Me either. Anticipation’s the sweetest longing I’ve eve
r known,” she murmured. “See you, Sam.”
Chapter Ten
Sam,
I’ve never written one of these sorts of letters before. But since you’re trying new things, I wanted to try too. Maybe it’ll get easier if I keep going. Right now the pen keeps slipping in my sweaty fingers. Uh oh. Not romantic. Or friend-like. Moving on. You’re the best person I’ve ever known and I barely even do yet. I can’t wait to discover more. Like the way you laugh when no one’s watching. The way the muscles quiver in your arms when you whale on that beat-up bag in your apartment. How it will make me feel when you whisper, “Ror,” when we’re lying together in the dark with nothing but each other’s heartbeats for company. I can’t wait.
~ Rory
Rory arrived at Sam’s at seven-thirty Friday night, right on schedule. She clutched a bouquet of flowers in her mittened fist. Not even quite November and it was snowing like a bitch. More sleet than snow right now but the changeover was coming soon.
It hadn’t been easy finding nice flowers at the grocery store but the idea had been a last-minute one. In her other hand she held two bags, one of which contained what Sam had requested—a pint of her favorite ice cream. Kind of late in the season for it but she was game for anything.
She knocked on the door. Knocked again when he didn’t answer. The bubble of nerves in her throat turned into a sponge, keeping out all her air. Had he changed his mind? Did he think she expected sex?
A giggle escaped her frozen lips at the irony. How often did men balk at the possibility a woman would demand sex from them?
Regardless she wouldn’t demand or even ask. Maybe sweetly cajole, depending on the signals he gave her.
