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He shrugged. “I don’t know what school’s gonna be like. It’s…” He let out a breath and turned his back on her, going back to his closet, this time with a garbage bag. “It’s whatever.”
Sam knew thatwhatever. All her relationships with men were whatever, but before she could think too much about it, her phone buzzed, startling her from her thoughts.
She took it out of her pocket to see it was a message from Mike.I need help.
Her stomach dropped.What’s wrong?
I have a suit that doesn’t fit.
She blew out a breath, glad it wasn’t an actual problem.I thought something was really wrong.
Something is really wrong. Did you read what I wrote? My suit doesn’t fit.
She bit into her bottom lip.What do you even need it for?
Emma’s baptism.His short answer was quickly followed up with,I bought a random one online, but it’s too long. So can you help? I heard it through the grapevine that you could.
Sam’s fingers flew across the screen of her phone as her smile grew.That’s a small grapevine.
That a yes or no?
Yes.
8
Sam knocked on the Ewings’ door, holding her sewing kit under her arm, and smiled when it opened. “Hey, Mr. Ewing.”
“You know you can call me Brandon.”
“I know, but it feels weird.”
He squeezed her shoulder in a paternal way as she stepped into the house. “How are ya?”
“Good, thanks. Is Mike around?”
“Downstairs. You let us know if you need anything, okay?”
Sam nodded her thanks, and she could imagine why Mike felt like he was moving backward. The Ewings were great people, but it must have been tough for him not to have his own space, especially after years of living on different bases. Then, of course, Bianca. He had wanted to make a life with her, and that asshole told him no.No.
The girl wasn’t merely selfish but stupid too.
Sam clomped down the carpeted steps to the basement, calling out for Mike, and when there was no answer, she walked to the middle of the room. She hadn’t been down there in a long time, and it had been totally refurbished. The wood paneling had been taken down and replaced by sandy-brown paint. A bed was pushed against the wall on the right side, its light green sheets tucked in at the corners, perfectly made. There was also a little fridge, a TV, a dresser, and a mirror. The other side was basically a small gym with a big freestanding metal rectangle, a few bars across it, and weights racked on multiple stands.
“Hey.”
She jumped in surprise at Mike’s voice behind her. She spun around, finding him in a white T-shirt thin enough to show the outline of his tattoos which extended up his left arm, to his shoulder and collarbone, and down over some of his chest. He raised that arm to run his hand over his head, and the movement shook her from her thoughts of tracing the inked shapes with her fingers and tongue.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, taking two steps in her direction.
She inhaled deeply. He smelled like mint, forest, and clean cotton.
“I was in the bathroom.”
“I know,” she said then immediately went hot. Way to play it cool.
“Yeah? How long have you been here?”
“Barely a minute. I smelled—never mind.” She was not about to tell him she smelled his soap and guessed he’d been taking a shower.
