The Stocking Was Hung(12)

“Stop it,” he scolds. “You aren’t a screw-up. You’re just going through a rough patch.”

The softness in his voice makes me want to cry and that’s just not good. It’s bad enough I’ve spilled my guts to a virtual stranger, and have now brought him home and dumped my crazy life all over him. I will not be one of those crazy chicks who practically humps a guy one minute and then starts sobbing all over him the next.

“Sure. A rough patch that’s lasted thirty-four years, no big deal,” I tell him with a shrug, blinking the tears away and blowing out a frustrated breath. “It’s fine, really. I’m used to it at this point. Nicholas married his high-school-sweetheart two months after they graduated college, gave them their first grandchild three years later and their second one is due any day now.”

Walking around Sam, I flop down on my old bed and kick my feet rhythmically against the side of it as I continue word-vomiting all over the room. He knows most of my humiliations at this point, what’s a few more?

“He’s been in the same, high paying job since college as a web designer and they have a beautiful home four miles down the road where my parents can visit any time they like. Meanwhile, I live across the country with a guy they’ve never met, in an apartment they’ve never seen, with a job I hate but at least it pays the bills, and no desire to have kids in the next century. Well, I used to have all of that. At least my aversion to children still stands strong.”

Sam waltzes over, squatting down in front of me and resting his hands on my thighs as he looks up into my face. I stare at his light blue eyes and try not to think about how hot and heavy and strong his hands feel and refuse to let my mind wander and imagine how they would feel on my bare skin, sliding up my thighs and between my legs.

“And the Leon thing? What’s the deal with that?” he asks quietly.

I finally let out a small laugh, remembering his earlier panic.

“Not as nefarious as you’d like to think. What does Leon spell backward?” I ask him with a smile.

His face scrunches up in thought, and it only takes a few seconds for the light bulb to come on and he lets out a small, frustrated laugh and shakes his head.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” he mutters. “If you weren’t so hot and distracting, I would’ve caught that immediately, just so you know.”

My entire body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes warms at his words, a little extra blast of fire igniting between my legs that I push away with chuckle at his expense.

“Yep. Leon spelled backward is Noel,” I reiterate. “My family got so tired of me bitching at strangers when I was a teenager and they’d make a stupid comment about my name around this time of year, that they took to calling me Leon just to shut me up. You must have missed the gold, metal stocking hangers on the mantle downstairs that also spell out Leon. My family thinks they’re hilarious.”

Sam pushes off of my thighs to stand back up and moves across the room to his backpack and giant duffle bag that my dad must have chucked angrily against the wall after he placed my luggage neatly by the door.

“You’re family isn’t so bad. At least you have one,” he says softly, bending down to unzip the duffle bag and grab a few items of clothing from inside.

Every bad thing I’ve ever thought or said about my family suddenly feels like a heavy rock in my stomach. and I wish I could take back all of my bitching. Sam has no one. He’s never had anyone, and all I’ve done since we met tonight is complain about the people in my life who love me unconditionally, even if they do complain about my choices and pick on me incessantly.

“Sam, I-”

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks, cutting me off as he turns around and holds up a flannel pair of pajama bottoms and a small black toiletry bag. “I’m about ready to pass out from exhaustion so I should probably get changed.”

I silently point to the closed door next to my bed that leads to the adjoining bathroom and he walks by me, opening the door and disappearing inside without another word. When I hear the sound of running water, I quickly get up from the bed and grab my suitcase, changing into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top while he’s still in the bathroom. I busy myself by grabbing the extra blankets and pillows out of the closet and making up a bed on the floor, wondering if he’s going to just assume we’ll sleep in the same bed together. My hands pause after shaking out the blanket and I picture myself lying on my side on the bed with his warm, hard body pressed up against my back, his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me close while his nose is nestled in the crook of my neck, and his lips press to my skin in the darkness of the room. My sigh of pleasure in the middle of my hot daydream is cut off when Sam’s voice fills the room.

“I hope you’re making that bed up for me. There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the floor. Unless of course you’re just throwing those down there for no reason because you’re going to let me sleep next to you. In that case, carry on.”

Mentally reminding myself yet again that I am heartbroken and not on the prowl for a man, I finish laying out the blankets and arranging the pillows then quickly jump on top of the bed. My hands pause in the process of pulling the covers back when I look up and see Sam walk out of the bathroom wearing nothing but the plaid pajama bottoms he took in there. His chest is bare, completely smooth, and looks like it was carved out of stone. I watch him walk around the end of my bed with my mouth hanging open and a little bit of drool dripping down my chin when I see those two little indents down by the waistband of his pants that turns every woman on earth into brainless, panting idiots. Including me. I’m pretty sure I’m panting, and I’m most definitely an idiot. I’ve been rendered dumb by waist indents and a tiny hint of dark, happy trail hair under his belly button that could double as an arrow pointing down to his crotch like one of those giant, blinking signs on the highway announcing road construction.