“I’m not asking for the universe. I’ll take the world, thank you.”
The next morning a gorgeous June day greets me. The sky is crystal clear and the birds are chirping like nothing’s amiss. If only. When I get to the bathroom sink, I look in the mirror and want to curse. Dark purple half moons are sitting below my eyes. Too bad it’s not Halloween—I already have the zombie look started, and with a bit of makeup, I could be there in no time. Good thing I don’t have any plans today. After a few splashes of cool water on my face, I brush my teeth and twist my hair into a messy bun. Then I stomp into the kitchen to put on the coffee. After I think about it for a minute, I decide a triple latte is in order, so I throw on some shorts and running shoes, and get ready to make the quick run the Starbucks. Only I’m caught up by the coffee and bag that await me on my porch.
“Damn it, Trevor,” I murmur to no one. I snatch the goodies up and turn to go inside when I notice the note. As I plop on the couch I almost choke on my bite of scone.
I’m sorry if I acted like an ass last night.
I was way out of line. I hope I didn’t blow any chance
I had with you over my stupidity.
I hope you’re ready for breakfast.
Trevor
A couple of minutes later my phone buzzes. When I check it, I see it’s him. I’m not really sure I want to answer it. But then my curiosity gets the better of me.
“Hey.”
“How’s the latte?”
“Latte-ish.”
He laughs. What used to warm me only makes me want to end the call now.
“And the scone? I suppose it’s sconish?”
“Not at all.”
“No?”
“Look, Trevor, I appreciate the gesture. It was nice. But after last night, I’m not quite ready…” I can’t finish before he cuts me off.
“I’m sorry I scared you off last night. I really fucked up and I’m sorry.”
“I guess you and I are sort of running on parallel roads here.”
He’s quiet for a short minute, then says, “Maybe I’m hoping for too much, too fast.”
“Probably.”
“So do I have any chance at all? And Sam, be honest with me.”
I don’t know what to say, so I do what I always do because, even if I have to sacrifice my own, I hate to hurt anyone else’s feelings. “Yes, Trevor, you have a chance. Just don’t come on so strong, okay?”
“Okay. Would it be too much to ask you to dinner again?”
“No, but can you give me a week?”
“You’ve got it. I’ll call you next week. And Sam, I just want you to know that you’re worth the wait. Every single minute.”
He ends the call and I groan, wanting to sling my phone across the room. I’m such a sucker and a dumbass.
“What’s that all about?” Lauren asks, walking in from her bedroom.
I give her the scoop and she laughs. “When it rains it comes down in buckets, right?” She pats my back and adds, “Don’t worry. It’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to. What we need is a girl’s dinner out. Like maybe this week.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
Then my phone rings again. “Jesus, I bet it’s damn Trevor again. He’s so persistent.
But when I answer, it isn’t Trevor. It’s someone else entirely that shocks the hell out of me. My hand automatically reaches for Lauren’s and she winces as I crush it in a vise-like grip while I listen to the person on the other end.
Pressing my temples, I try to stop replaying Friday night with Samantha in my head knowing she isn’t for me. It’s been almost a week and I’m still scratching my head over her reaction. After every opportunity to stop things, she decided she wanted to continue. But after she got hers, she left me with a stiff dick and only my hand to use instead. And fuck me if my damn traitorous cock doesn’t stand in protest every time I think about her.
I shift in my chair when my office door opens after a quick knock. Glancing over my monitor, Lisa is coming towards me. She doesn’t stop until she’s right beside me. I focus on my computer screen because I should be going over my presentation one last time before the meeting.
Her hand dislodges my own from my hair. “You’re going to lose all this gorgeous hair if you keep yanking at it.”
I glance away from her expectant face and glare at my hand. I hadn’t realized what I was doing until she’d freed my death grip. “I should cut it all off, or shave my head.”
Her fingers run through my hair. Her nails graze over my scalp and I can’t help that it feels nice. “Don’t you dare, Ben Rhoades. Your hair could be famous if you’d leave it be.”
She works some magic I’m unable to see. Her face however tells the tale as she grins and steps back to admire her work.
“You look good. Ready for the Sadlers. They are in the small conference room. I was sent to tell you.”
Her eyes hold me in place and I have the sense she wants me to say something. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of golden hair. I whirl in that direction, but see nothing.
“What?” Lisa asks.