Chapter Twelve

 

Sam was in the kitchen, sipping coffee and staring out into the torrential downpour, her mind a pleasant blank, when she heard a strange crackling sound coming from a device on the counter top. Then three loud alarms sounded from it, making her jump.

Wade appeared, shoving his legs into jeans, his eyes alert. He grabbed his phone off the counter and stared down at the screen a few seconds, then shot her an apologetic look. She tried not to remember the ‘I love you’ he’d spoken clearly before dropping into sleep. But the words were bouncing around inside her brain like so many marbles, refusing to be retrieved.

It was ridiculous anyway. They barely knew each other.

He took the cup of coffee she held out. “I’m sorry, darlin’, but I gotta go save some lives. Nice outfit, by the way.”

She blinked, reality crashing back in on her. She glanced down at the Longhorns T-shirt and plaid jockey shorts she’d found in his dresser, then back up at him. He took a few sips, then set the mug down.

“Would you mind pouring that into a Yeti for me? I gotta brush my teeth and get out of here.”

She nodded and then filled one of the giant traveling mugs for him, waiting for him to return to the kitchen as the rain continued to pound the roof, making her aware of it not as something pleasant to observe, but as something dangerous and unwelcome. He rushed back in, buttoning a Dallas Fire and Rescue shirt with ‘W. Roberts, Chief’ embroidered on the left side. She handed him the cup without a word as her throat closed up in panic.

Could she live this way? If she did admit how she felt about him, about how much she wanted to wake up in his arms every morning, slide out and make them coffee while he slept, there was still this. The ever present terror of his daily job of saving people from the most dangerous situations possible.

He grabbed her and kissed her, hard, making her go melty all over again. “I meant it, you know,” he said, gripping her upper arms and staring into her eyes. Tears filled hers, and she tried to blink them away but failed. He brushed them away with his thumbs and smiled. “I do love you, Sam. But I can’t discuss it now. Gotta go . . .”

“I know, save some lives.” She flapped her hand. “I’ll head home.”

“No way,” he said as he grabbed his keys and tucked his phone in his pocket. “I don’t want you on the roads. They’re washing out right and left. Flash flooding like mad.” He stopped and glared at her. “I mean it, Samantha. Stay here. That’s an order.”

She lifted her chin at him. He raised one light brown eyebrow. Sam sensed something in her release to it, to him, all over again.

“Okay, fine. I’ll find something to do.” She didn’t want to say anything more because she was bone deep terrified for him right then. “Be . . . um . . . safe. Okay? I mean, I just found you and . . .”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her close again. She closed her eyes and listened to his steady, calm heartbeat a few seconds. Then his phone bleeped, and he let her go. “I’ll look forward to seeing you here tonight when I’m done. Deal?” His eyes narrowed. “Cancel all your real estate crap today, Sam. I mean that.”

“Well, I did have . . . I mean, you may have to go save lives, but I have to go make money.”

He chuckled. “Nice try. Cancel it all and stay here. Period.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice as she watched him head for the side door to the garage. At the last minute, he turned and grinned at her. “Oh, and by the way, I’ve changed my mind, Miss Weaver. I don’t want to sell my house anymore. I have a different proposal for you . . . later.”

She opened her mouth to respond, to tell him they were rushing this, that they needed to get to know each other a little better, but he ducked out the door before she had a chance to say anything. She crumpled against the island, letting the tears fall, not even knowing why she was crying but needing to do it anyway.

After about forty minutes in the basement doing yoga stretches on a mat, the expensive sound system blaring around her, then a hot shower, she stuck Wade’s untouched steak from the night before in the microwave and settled in front of the massive television with it to wait. But after a few bites, she had to set it aside. She paced a solid thirty minutes before calling Skye.

“How in the hell do you stand it,” she demanded in lieu of a greeting.

“Oh, you get used it,” Skye claimed, not requiring any explanation.

Sam realized there were zero secrets in the tight-knit world of the fire and rescue crew. So she plunged on, modesty and keeping things a secret be damned. “I can’t, I tell you. I’m gonna go batshit nuts.”

“You’re at his house, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, tapping her fingers on the stainless steel counter and staring out into the ongoing downpour. “I can’t leave. I mean, the roads are . . .”

“I know, I’m under the same orders. So, let’s talk. Tell me all about it.”

“About what?” Her face flamed hot with recent memory.

“About the free trade agreement with Mexico. About it, you silly cow. How is he? I mean . . . you know.”

“God, Skye.” Sam put a hand to her warm cheek. “I don’t ask about your . . . you know.”

“You are so damn cute. Okay, spill it. Is he all that?”

Sam grinned, letting herself own that happiness for the first time in years. “And a bag of barbecue chips, sister.”

“Ooooh, I knew it! Tell me more.”

Sam sighed, poured herself more coffee, and revealed as much as she felt comfortable revealing. She knew Skye was trying to distract her from the worry. And Sam figured she was doing the same for her friend, so they stayed on the phone for over an hour, discussing this and that, including various potential outcomes between Sam and Wade, most of them pleasant, but many of them raunchy enough to make them both giggle like a couple of teenaged girls.

“Listen, Sam, I gotta go. I’m supposed to be baking six dozen cupcakes right now. The humidity makes it tough, but I can’t put it off any longer. Hang in there. Wade will be fine.”

“I know. So will Jax.”

“I know. Talk soon.”

Sam ended the call, noting that she’d been talking so long, her phone was warm to the touch. She wandered into the room that held the giant chest. The sight of the obvious playroom Wade had set up in the former office made her tingle all over. She trailed her fingers along the leather covered bench, the handcuffs, and the flogger and velvet blindfold. When she found a set of bright white, soft cotton ropes in the treasure box, she had to drop them, suddenly unsure about everything, despite Wade’s many words to the contrary.

She backed out of the room, unable to not notice it had been four hours since he’d left. Realizing he couldn’t stop what he was doing and send her an ‘I’m fine’ text, she fought the strong urge to call a cab and instead, wandered back into the bedroom, finding herself standing in the middle of a massive closet surrounded by his clothes and his distinct leathery, smoky odor.

After running her fingers down the neat line of his shirts, she walked out and grabbed the one he’d been wearing for their date, now in a crumpled heap on the floor, pressed it to her nose and tried not to cry, berating herself for being such a big, weepy baby. The man was out doing his job. No need to panic.

She dropped into the soft leather chair by the bed and curled herself into a ball, Wade’s shirt still pressed to her face, and must have dropped to sleep. The next thing she knew, someone was shaking her arm, calling her name.

“Sam, honey, wake up.” She startled and nearly fell to the floor. “Sam, I need you to be calm and just come with me, okay?”

She blinked, trying to figure out why Skye was standing in Wade’s bedroom dressed in ratty jeans and a T-shirt, her long hair yanked back in a haphazard ponytail, her eyes red-rimmed. Sam rose slowly, still clutching the shirt, her brain wrapping itself around the inevitable.