Before We Kiss (Fool's Gold #14)

“This is better,” he said as he glanced around.

Boys with toys, she thought fondly. “You must have been quite the athletic kid,” she told him. “I was more of a reader. Fayrene and Ana Raquel were into soccer and dance. I liked taking art classes.” She paused as he looked at her. “What? You’re the one who doesn’t talk about personal things. Does that mean I can’t?”

“I like hearing about your family.”

There was something in his tone, she thought. A question? A concern? She wasn’t sure.

She stopped and faced him. He was taller than her. His dark eyes were unreadable in the twilight of the forest. She could smell earth and leaves and flowers, but none of them were as appealing as the man standing in front of her.

Oh, to not be working with him, she thought. Just for five minutes so she could inappropriately throw herself at him. Not that she would. That had never been her style. But a girl could dream.

“It’s normal to share information,” he told her. “I get that. You tell me something personal and I respond in kind.”

She risked putting her hand on his forearm. “Except you don’t roll that way. You want to keep things private and I’m okay with that.”

“I don’t roll that way?” he repeated. “Did you just say that?”

She grinned. “Maybe.”

He moved toward her. For a second she thought he was going to... Well, she wasn’t sure what, but a kiss would be nice. Or a declaration that being near to her drove him so crazy he couldn’t control himself. Hmm, what would an uncontrolled Sam be like? she wondered wistfully. Amazing, for sure.

He raised his arms. For a second she thought he was going to pull her close. Her heart started to beat fast and flutter a little and her throat got tight. His hands were headed straight for her shoulders. Okay, not exactly a traditional hug position but she was open to experimenting. If he—

Sam dropped his hands to her shoulders, turned her around so she was facing the trail, then gave her a little push.

She held in a sigh.

“I wasn’t athletic as a kid,” he told her as they walked down the trail. “I was sick.”

She stopped and faced him again. “Sick how?”

“Asthma. It was pretty bad when I was little. I outgrew it, but my parents were protective.” He grimaced. “Especially my mom. My dad had played professional basketball and Mom was an equestrian. One of my sisters played volleyball professionally and the other had planned on playing women’s basketball until she was discovered by an agency and became a model.”

It was probably as much information as she could have gotten off of Wikipedia, but still. This was Sam telling her personal stuff. She had a thousand questions—about his parents and his sisters—but she could only focus on one fact.

“I’m sorry you were sick. It must have been tough for you.”

He shifted uncomfortably and reached for her again. This time she knew what he wanted and started walking again. He fell into step beside her.

“It wasn’t fun,” he admitted. “I was the youngest and the smallest. I hated always being left behind. Once I started to get better, I wanted to play sports, but everyone was worried. When I insisted on going out for football, my mother practically chained me to my bed.”

“She might have thought you were overcompensating.”

He shot her a sideways glance. “You’re not the first one to suggest that.”

She grinned. “Then I’m in good company.” She paused as the path curved. As Angel had promised, it was easy to see where to go.

“You compromised on the kicking.” She could see how that would be less stressful on his body. Almost no direct hits. Kicking was more about skill than brawn.

“I practiced until I was good, then tried out for the team without anyone in the family knowing. When I made it, my dad signed the paperwork. Mom and my sisters didn’t know until the first game.”

Dellina thought about how she would have felt if they were talking about her son. “I’m amazed your dad is still standing.”

“She wasn’t happy, but she got over it.”

“And the rest is history,” she said. “Now you’re in a profession that’s safer. She must like that.”

“She does.”

“You were married before.”

The words popped out before she could stop them. Because while bringing up other personal information with anyone else was no big deal, it was with Sam.

“Not that we have to discuss that,” she added softly.

He didn’t speak for a second. “I was. It didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry.” The statement was automatic, because in truth, she wasn’t sorry. Married Sam wouldn’t be interesting at all.