Fools Rush in(98)

“I know I am.” Sam smiled back, his eyes crinkling, and a warm tug of desire pulled in the pit of my stomach. His hand slid up my arm to my neck and pulled me closer. His lips were warm and firm, and we fit together as if our sole purpose in life was to kiss each other. His hands slid down my back, and I kissed his neck, his skin as sweet as chocolate.

Sam Nickerson. I was kissing Sam, and he loved me. Life was unspeakably kind.

“Millie,” he whispered a little hoarsely, “I want you to know that this is not some passing thing. I look at you and I see the rest of my life.”

Who wouldn’t feel like swooning? My knees went watery, and when he kissed me again, I found that I was clutching a fistful of his shirt. I could feel his heart thudding hard against my breast, feel the heat of his skin. Apparently his shirt came untucked—okay, I pulled it out—and I slid my hands over the warm skin of his back, so incredibly happy and stunned and thrilled that I felt like laughing and crying at the same time.

“About this discreet and slow thing,” I managed to say, my limbs tingling with that odd combination of weakness and desire. I pulled back to look in his eyes and ran my fingers through his hair.

“What about it?” His breathing was ragged.

“I’m all for discreet. But maybe we could rethink slow.”

Because I had known Sam all my life. I knew his goodness and kindness and I knew that I loved him with all my heart, and really, why on earth should we wait?

“I love you, Millie,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, and I actually felt dizzy at the words.

“I love you, too,” I breathed.

And I disentangled myself from his arms, stood up and led him down the hall. To bed.

THE AFTERNOON DARKENED, the storm growing weaker as it blew out to sea, and Sam and I were still in bed. The occasional gust of wind and the rain drumming on the roof reinforced the feeling that we were the only two people around, and the only thing that mattered was the two of us, together, alone, at last. Except for Digger, whose cute little head popped up next to the bed. “Hi, buddy,” I said. He jumped on the foot of the bed, curling himself into a tight circle.

“If he wants my leg, he’s got it,” Sam murmured, pulling the blanket up over my shoulder. “I’m too tired to move.”

“It’s only fair,” I agreed. Sam laughed, but Digger, unaware that he had carte blanche, fell promptly asleep.

For a long time, we lay wrapped around each other, my head on his uninjured shoulder, his fingers playing in my hair, my hand over his heart. “I really love you, Millie,” Sam whispered.

I sneaked a peek at his face. His eyes were closed, a smile on his generous mouth. I’d never noticed how long his eyelashes were, or the little scar on his chin. “I love you, too, Sam,” I said, and my heart swelled at being able to say the words.

“You better. This is going to be a little tricky, when we tell your family. Especially Trish.”

“Maybe we can just run away,” I suggested.

“Elope. That’s not a bad idea,” Sam said, still smiling. I snuggled back down against him, kissed his shoulder. The wind scraped against the sky, rattling the screens. It was the happiest moment in my life to date. Here I was snug at home with the man I loved, and he loved me right back. I didn’t have to pretend with Sam, didn’t have to try to get him to notice me or make him love me, because he already did. The feeling of safety and utter contentment made my heart ache with fullness.

There was a crack as a branch or something fell in the yard. Digger jumped off the bed, barking at the window. “It’s okay, Digger,” I said. Less than reassured, Digger raced into the kitchen and continued to bark. “Crazy dog. Doesn’t know the difference between a branch and a burglar.” Sam chuckled.

But it turned out that I should have paid more attention to Digger because if I had, my sister wouldn’t have walked in and found me na**d in bed with her ex-husband.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

THERE SHE STOOD, DRENCHED to the skin, face glowing white in the dark afternoon, her eyes like black holes. “Oh, God,” Trish choked. “Oh, Jesus.”

Sam and I were frozen in horror. I don’t even think I drew a breath. She backed up, then turned around and fled. The kitchen door must have caught in the wind, because it banged repeatedly behind her.

“Trish!” Sam called, unfreezing and sliding out of bed. He glanced at me. “This is not good.” Pulling on his pants and shirt, he glanced out the window as I reached for my bathrobe. “She shouldn’t be out in this weather. The roads are probably a mess.” Ever the cop. He went into the kitchen, me trailing uncertainly behind. Trish was already peeling out of my driveway, mud flying from her tires as she sped away.

“This is really bad,” I stated needlessly.

Sam turned to me. “Millie, I better go after her. It’s still pretty rough out, and she’s upset. She shouldn’t be driving.”

“Right. Yes, go ahead.” I was too shocked to say anything else.

“I’ll see you later.” He started to leave, then came back and planted a kiss on my mouth. “I’ll see you later,” he repeated.

“Okay,” I said, giving him a tight smile. The rain blew in as he opened the back door and ran to his truck.

The candles had long burned down. It was almost completely dark outside. I went into the living room and sat in the darkness. Digger followed, wagging, and curled up at my feet. The wind howled and the house shook.