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Her gratitude was palpable. All I could do was nod in response and watch as she walked into the house with the blanket and my heart.
After she confided in me, I was so far gone for her, but nothing could happen between us.
CHAPTER11
ALICE
Ididn’t let out the breath I’d been holding until I closed my bedroom door behind me. Resting against it, I closed my eyes. What had just happened?
When I touched his hand, it was like he’d shocked me with static electricity. My heart raced, my fingers tingled, and my skin had been warm all over. I’d wanted him to lean over and kiss me. And then he’d said he liked me, and it was like he’d thrown cold water over me.
I’d panicked, snatching my hand from his to create much-needed distance. What had he meant when he said he liked me? Friendship, or something more?
I hadn’t allowed him to speak or expound on his statement. Instead, he’d started rambling about friendship, and I’d agreed. Apparently, we were friends. Ones who supported each other.
That was great, but my dormant body wanted something else. For the first time in forever, I wanted to trust someone with my emotions, my secrets, and my body. He hadn’t judged me for anything I’d told him thus far. Maybe he’d accept me for who I was before, and who I wanted to become.
But I’d shut down whatever he was going to say. I pressed my fist against my chest over my pounding heart. I was afraid. I was afraid of truly letting go with another person. Trusting them with everything and all of me.
If I could let go, he’d be the one I’d want to do it with. He was a responsible guy with a good job who cared for his daughter. He was nothing like my ex, who’d step on whoever he could on his way up. Sam didn’t want anything from me other than what I was already doing: caring for his daughter while he worked. He was safe.
The realization flooded my body with feel-good endorphins. Sam was a guy I could trust.
I wasn’t a key to his next promotion or bonus. He didn’t get anything from being with me. I wasn’t a notch on his bedpost. That realization made me more irritated with myself.
The first good guy to show up in my life, and I tell him I want to be friends.
I changed, brushed my teeth, and climbed into bed, a dull, throbbing headache beginning to form. Why couldn’t I have it all? The job and the man? The life and the relationship? For the first time, I wanted to grab on to everything Elle said was possible for me and take it for myself.
What was stopping me? My past? I lived thousands of miles away from anyone remotely close to my history. It couldn’t reach me here. Besides, I’d told him a lot of it. He hadn’t asked a ton of follow-up questions, but I’d told him enough to know my past wasn’t rosy. The situation with the show was not great. But he hadn’t balked.
Even if he found out about the rest, it would be okay.
After I’d called us friends, I might have shut off any possibility with him. Then a worse thought hit me—what if he brought someone else home? Would I be able to handle it? What if he asked me to stay home and watch Maggie while he took another woman out?
I hated that idea. But what could I do to catch his attention after my words tonight? I groaned as I punched my pillow, trying to get comfortable.
My experience with men was limited to my younger years when I observed kids on the set. Wanting the guy someone else already had, wearing heavy makeup and revealing clothes to get his attention, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. None of those tactics would work on him.
I’d have to be myself. It was a scary concept.
Risking a glance at the clock, I realized I’d been tossing and turning for hours because it was midnight. Thinking it was safe to get a drink from the kitchen, I slowly turned the knob on my door, noted that the door to Sam’s room was closed, and I tiptoed down the hallway to the kitchen.
It was dark except for a light over the stove, so I grabbed a glass and filled it with ice and water. I cringed when the fridge made noise while dropping the ice into the glass. I held my breath, and when I didn’t hear any stirring from the bedrooms, I filled it with water.
I tipped the glass back, letting the cold water soothe my dry throat.
“What are you—”
I screeched, the glass slipping from my fingers and falling to the floor, shattering. Water and shards of glass struck my shins and feet. I lifted one leg with the intention to step out of the area, when hands gripped my waist and lifted me onto the counter.
“Stay here while I clean up.” Sam’s voice was rough.
I pointed at his feet. “But you’re not wearing any shoes.”
“I have socks on at least.”
He clicked on the overhead light, and I was suddenly very aware I was wearing a sheer lace cami and shorts. I wrapped my arms around myself, hoping he hadn’t noticed. I wanted to run down the hall and pull on a sweatshirt, but I couldn’t leave, not until the glass was cleaned up and the floor dried.
