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Her hair fell out of its ponytail until it completely obscured her face from his view. Outside, the fireworks boomed faster and louder, and he guessed they were coming to the finale. But so were Samantha and Mike.
Under his hands, tension coiled in her body as she threw her head back, letting out a string of incomprehensible words, and he bent over her, the air filled with her scent, his mind adrift in the feel of her as a flash of heat washed over him with his own climax, and he let his weight drop onto her back. She was warm, and he pressed his cheek against her skin before kissing her.
“Your beard scratches,” she said, her voice a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. He stood up, skimming his hand down her side. He let go of her with a light pat to her thigh and took care of the condom, putting himself back to rights before undoing the tie around her hands and the rope around her ankles. Taking a seat on the bench, he wrapped his arms around her waist to sit her in his lap, massaging her wrists and fingers.
“Are you sad you missed the fireworks?” she asked, fixing her hair.
“Not a big fan of them anymore.” He realized he revealed more than he meant to with those few words, according to Sam’s frown. The pops and bangs were still a little triggering for him, but being with her took his mind off them. And before she could offer any concerned words, he dragged his index finger down her shoulder and over the curve of her breast. “Besides, you’re my fireworks.”
She lost the sympathetic glow in her eyes as she narrowed them. “You need to stop.”
“What?”
She shook her head again and stood up. “Don’t say things like that, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
She bent over to pick up her clothes, and he ignored his instinct to comment on how much he liked the view. “Don’t say stuff like that to me. I’m leaving in less than two months.”
“I don’t…” Mike’s words evaporated from his tongue. He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t know what she was talking about. This was supposed to be a summer fling, a few weeks of fun, so he couldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t tell her that every day they spent together was more than fun. Each minute they spent kissing solidified his feelings. Each of her smiles made him brand-new. He couldn’t tell her she was brighter and bolder than any firework, and that he would give up anything to have a little more time with her.
Sam put her bra back on then glanced around the floor for her underwear. He had them stuffed in his pocket, but he didn’t want to give them back. If he had to hide his feelings, he might as well keep something for himself. With a quiet curse, she gave up searching for the panties and slipped her romper back on, towing it up her legs and over her torso, covering all the skin he’d had his hands on minutes ago.
“Well,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “I guess I’ll talk to you later.”
He kept his hands to himself as she kissed his cheek. She clearly wanted out as fast as possible, and he wasn’t going to ask her to stay when she so obviously didn’t want to. She was the one holding up their end of the bargain. He wasn’t.
Less than two months, and she’d be 1,300 miles away.
20
The following week, Sam helped her dad into the house, his crutches catching on the doorframe.
“You got it?” she asked, holding the door open with her hip as she kept one arm on his back and the other out in front of him so she could catch him if he fell. “Eddie, out of the way!”
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He had repeated that sentiment every time she’d asked how he was doing since the moment he woke up from the surgery.
Sam nudged Eddie with her foot. “Yeah, but…”
Phil finagled his crutches over the lip of the door and slowly made his way down the hall toward the kitchen. “I’m hungry.”
“Okay. You need to take your pills with food anyway, so what do you want? I can make something or order something or—”
“Samantha,” he said, sounding a little out of breath—the walk from the car to the house was evidently pushing it—and he plopped down with a grunt in one of the kitchen chairs. Eddie sat next to him, tongue lolling to the side as he put his head on Phil’s thigh for a pat. “You’ve done enough. Go do something for yourself.”
She grabbed a dish towel and wrapped it around one of the ice packs in the freezer before moving a chair over so her dad could put his foot up on it. “Here,” she said, handing him the ice for his knee. “Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off.”
“Samantha,” he said again, this time with a little more annoyance. “I know. I don’t need you keeping watch over me like I’m a child.”
“I’m not wa—”
He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I know you think my head would fall off if it weren’t attached, and maybe that’s true, but I got a knee replacement, not a lobotomy. Please leave me be.”
Sam propped her hands on her hips as her dad raised his brow at her. She didn’t think she was hovering, but now that he pointed it out…maybe she was.
“Go take the dog for a walk or, I don’t know. Go do something that isn’t waiting for me to fall over.”
“I’m not waiting for you to fall over. I just want to make sure you have everything you need.”
