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Samantha lets go of me and gazes at me with a stunned expression. "You know them?"
"You bet I do. Your mom used to make them for me all the time, and they were the best pancakes in the world."
I sit on the bed and hand her a plate.
"You want to eat on the bed?"
"Yeah, why not? We can watch TV while eating." I shift my weight until I'm sitting with my back against the headboard. Samantha walks to the other side and takes a seat beside me with a beaming grin. If dining on the bed makes her smile as she does now, I'll do this more often.
I grab the top pancake, and after placing it on my plate, I decorate the surface with a layer of brown, sticky sweetness. After rolling it, I take my first bite. I let it sit there for a second to enjoy the sweet sensation of my palate tingling with pleasure.Oh my god. This is pure bliss.As I swallow the piece, it leaves a warm, honeyed trail down my throat, making me crave more.
"And? Are they any good?"
I let out a big moan. "You're blessed with the same pancake baking gift that your mother had, Sam. These are exactly how I remember them."
A little sniffle makes me peek up from my plate.
"What? Did I say something wrong?" I ask, seeing her glassy eyes.
She shakes her head. "No, it's just... You called me Sam," she whispers. "Mom called me that too."
"Oh. I'm sorry if—"
"No, please, don't apologize. I like it." A hue of pink colors her cheeks.
I pat her knee. "Then I’m calling you Sam."
We continue to eat on the bed while watching television, when, out of the blue, she asks, "Why are you single, Cole?"
I cough hard as I almost choke on my last bite. Samantha giggles and waits until I'm done coughing.
"Why are you women so interested in the fact that I'm not in a relationship?"
She shrugs. "Because you’re a thirty-three-year-old, successful, good-looking, kind man."
A laugh of happiness leaves my lips as she says this. "Well, thank you for that compliment, Sam. But the answer is simple. I've never found a woman interesting enough to give up my freedom."
"So, isn't having me in your house interrupting your bachelor’s lifestyle?"
"Maybe, but I don't care because I love having you here."
"What about Alisha? She's single, funny, beautiful, and kind," Samantha points out with a bright, hopeful smirk.
"Nope. We're friends."
"Oh, then why did she ask you to have sex with her?"
Thank God I'm sitting, because my mouth drops as I gasp for air.She heard that?
"That was a joke. She didn't mean that," I quickly answer. "Now, let's stop this interrogation."
I glide off the bed and grab the tray. "I'll bring this to the kitchen and make us something to drink. Let's meet in the living room and watch television there."
Samantha nods, but when I come to the door, I freeze at her next words.
"I wouldn't mind if you dated Alisha."
Without answering, I walk out. Once I'm back in the kitchen and have filled the dishwasher, my fingers massage the tense muscles in my left shoulder. I can't stop wondering where Alisha is and what she's doing. Was I too harsh? Should I call her or text her to make sure she's okay?
