by Kendall Ryan
Sam let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I was thinking the same thing. The idea of standing in line in twenty degree weather to get into a bar where I can’t hear myself think is not my idea of a good time. I’m not twenty-one anymore—hell, I’m not even thirty-one anymore. I’ll text them and tell them we’re not coming and we can chill together.”
I refused to examine what his response was doing to my pulse rate as he shrugged off his jacket and snow pants, revealing the jeans and sweater beneath.
“What kind of night did you have in mind?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Up to you. I’ve got to take a quick shower and warm up; I’m like a popsicle. Why don’t you see what restaurants are around and make us a reservation and we’ll start there?”
“Good idea,” I said and he slipped into the bathroom. I opened my laptop and searched the surrounding area. This would be great. A chance to wipe away all the awkwardness that had been building between us the past couple days and to get my mind off Trevor.
In a resort town like this, nearly every place was upscale and on New Year’s Eve, I knew it would be hard to get seats. I just had no idea it would be impossible.
I called every place in a fifteen-mile radius and literally every one of them was booked.
“Crap,” I mumbled, my stomach grumbling as the tenth hostess hung up on me.
Feeling hopeless, I climbed from the bed and slid into the simple, long-sleeved black dress and black tights I’d brought along for tonight and ran a brush through my hair.
Sam stepped from the bathroom already dressed in a pair of black chinos and an emerald green sweater. A heavy roll of steam followed him into the room as he shot me an expectant smile.
“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, finger-combing his still-wet hair. He looked delectable and it took me a second to manage a reply.
“We don’t have one,” I admitted with a wince. “Everywhere is booked.”
“Shoot. I was wondering if that might happen.” His chiseled lips pursed. “So, let’s just go down to the hotel bar and grab a drink for now while we talk it over. You game?”
“Not if we’re going to drink and not eat. That sounds like a recipe for—”
“A great night?” Sam cut in.
“A disaster,” I finished.
“Don’t be silly. If they can’t seat us for dinner, we’ll get room service after and watch a movie. Come on, one drink. You have to show off that dress a little anyway.”
His gaze dropped, skimming over the neckline of my dress and lower before flicking back up to meet mine. “You look great, by the way.”
It wasn’t the polite words so much, it was more his husky tone that had my arms breaking out in goosebumps.
I swallowed hard and croaked out a low “thank you” before following his lead into the hall.
When we reached the lobby, Sam ordered my vodka soda and a whiskey for himself and we sat and watched the droves of people strolling through the doors of the hotel, all dressed to the nines and ready to party.
“You’re sure you wouldn’t rather… This isn’t lame for you?” I prodded.
“Hell no.” Sam shook his head. “I’m telling you, the best place I could be tonight is hanging out with you.”
A thrill of warmth coiled around my spine and I sat up a little straighter, taking my drink as the bartender sat it in front of me.
“You remember last New Year’s?” Sam grinned.
I rolled my eyes. “How could I forget?”
I’d gone to a company party with Trevor at his insistence but he’d agreed Sam could come with us so I wasn’t alone while he schmoozed with the bigwigs. He swore we’d only be stopping by to make an appearance. After two interminable hours of listening to a bunch of blowhards brag about the size of their bank accounts—and other stuff—Sam and I had snuck out to his truck and sat in the cab. For the next hour or so, we watched the fireworks explode over the Hudson as Sam played the CD of Christmas songs he always kept in his car just for me.
“I’ll never understand why the *NSYNC Christmas album just screams ‘Maggie’ to you,” I said with a grin, feeling oddly choked up at the memory.
“Because of your thing for Justin Timberlake.”
“My what?” I demanded.
Sam laughed. “You have a thing for Justin Timberlake. When he got married, you were inconsolable and you always make a point of watching when he’s on Saturday Night Live.”
“I make a point to watch because he’s an excellent performer!” I protested, pausing to take a long pull from my glass. “And I was not inconsolable, thank you very much. I just didn’t see him and Jessica Biel together, that’s all,” I added with a grumble.
“Which you reminded me of often, and loudly.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Jessica Biel? I could explain it to you,” Sam teased.
I rolled my eyes. “Men.”
“What? She’s a beautiful woman and she looks a little like you. She’s got the heart-shaped face and the dark, rich chestnut hair and the almond-shaped eyes. You could be sisters.”
Another shiver shot through me. Hadn’t Sam just said Jessica Biel was hot? Did that mean he thought I was hot, too?
And there I go, reading into things again.
“So, just to be clear, does that mean you think I have a chance with Justin Timberlake?”
“You’d have to admit you’re into him first.” Sam clinked his glass with mine and we chattered on, teasing each other as we finished our drinks.
We wound up having two before conversation became impossible due to the crowd. I covered the tab over Sam’s protests and we headed back up to the room to peruse the room service menu.
After stepping into the room, I kicked off my shoes and made my way over to the bed, where I plopped down and opened the menu, reading each option to Sam and ignoring the way my stomach growled at the mere mention of food.
“We have to get something Trevor would never let you order,” Sam reminded me with a grin. A sizzle went through me at the sight and I turned away, cheeks flaming. This was getting to be a problem. If it didn’t stop, he was sure to notice eventually and it would surely get in the way of our friendship.
The thought sobered me instantly and I dragged my gaze from him and focused on the menu again.
“How about lobster mac and cheese?”
“Lobster in a land-locked state in the dead of winter? I like it.”
I rolled my eyes. “I bet it’s amazing.”
“Then get it. You can get whatever you want.”
Sam ordered for us, getting a cheeseburger for himself, and I sat back and watched him as he hung up the phone. He’d pushed his sleeves up to bare his muscular forearms and I found myself in the same exact spot I’d been in less than a minute before.
A pang of warmth filled my heart and I chewed my bottom lip, trying to decide whether to tell him what was on my mind. We’d always been honest with each other before. Maybe pretending this wasn’t happening would do more harm than good.
I pushed myself from the bed and grabbed my pajamas from my bag before padding into the bathroom.
“I’ll be out in a few. I’m going to wash my makeup off and change for bed.”
Also, by the way, I’m a big, fat chicken.
I shushed that annoying inner voice that sounded remarkably like Dee and made quick work of my dress. Once I’d changed into my usual nightwear of boxer shorts and a T-shirt, I paused to glance in the mirror, wishing I’d packed something a little sexi—
“No way,” I snapped at my reflection. I wasn’t about to blow up a friendship I’d had and cherished since college no matter how squishy Sam was making my stomach feel lately.
“Did you say something?” he called back.
“Nope, sorry. Just um…talking to myself.” Good save, genius.
I blew out a sigh and washed my face before patting it dry and going for a second attempt at a pep talk in the mirror.
“Just because
your relationship blew up does not give you the right to shift everything between you and Sam. Get it together, woman,” I hissed.
My reflection nodded back at me and, together, we turned off the bathroom light and made our way back into the bedroom with a smile.
“What’s up?” Sam asked, brows draw together quizzically the second I walked in. “You’ve been in there forever and now you’ve got your serious-thinking face on.”
“I do not,” I laughed.
“Don’t lie to me about your thinking face,” he shot back in mock anger.
I sighed and then shrugged. If anyone knew I had a tell it was Sam. “Fine, you caught me.”
“And what are you thinking so hard about?”
“I just… I want to thank you, I guess. For being my knight in shining armor all the time,” I said, knowing I was hedging, but unable to make myself tell him the full truth. “It feels like every time I need you, you’re there for me and I… I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
“Don’t be silly, Mags,” he replied, brushing me off with the easy warmth that came so naturally to him.
“It’s true,” I insisted. “Remember when my cousin was getting married and Trevor bailed on me at the last second? You stepped in and helped. And when my tire exploded in Maryland? You drove all the way from New York just to help me. Not everyone would do something like that.”
“For you they would,” Sam said, his blue eyes suddenly soft as he gazed at me.
My heart froze in my chest as our gazes collided and I swallowed hard, suddenly overcome with a rush of emotion that knocked me on my ass.
It wasn’t just a look of friendship or even devotion.
No, the warmth in his gaze held so much more than that, and even without being able to see myself, I knew my eyes looked the same. A war waged inside me as I tried to think of what to do. But then, just as I was about to speak, a knock sounded at the door.
For what felt like an eternity, he didn’t move and I stayed rooted to the spot, knowing the second the moment passed it might never come again. But then the pressure and tension overwhelmed me and my mouth was moving before I could stop it.
“I-I think our food is here.”
There was no mistaking the disappointment in his eyes as he nodded and moved toward the door without another glance my way.
I’d blown it. What might have been my one chance to see if what I was feeling for Sam was real, and I’d chickened out.
Already the regret tasted bitter in my mouth.
Chapter Eight
Sam
Son of a bitch.
I’d been hungry. Starving really, but after what had felt like something…a real moment with Maggie, I was left hard and wanting and not a little confused as I moved toward the door. I knew what I wanted, and food was not it.
Saved by the bell? This had been more like cock-blocked by the knock, and I had half a mind to contact management.
I swung the door open and a smiling waiter greeted me.
“Happy New Year, sir!”
I instantly felt like a piece of shit for placing blame when it belonged squarely on me. I’d had more than one opportunity to tell Maggie how I felt and instead I tiptoed around it like a parent playing Santa on Christmas Eve.
No more.
I stepped aside and let the waiter roll the cart in, but my mind was elsewhere. The next opening I got, I was going to go for it. If she shot me down, so be it, but at least I could say that I tried. And if the way she’d looked at me earlier was any indication, I had a better chance than I’d thought.
“I have lobster macaroni and cheese, a cheeseburger with the works and fries, one chocolate pot de crème, a strawberry cheesecake, and a bottle of Prosecco. Is that correct, sir?”
I nodded and took the proffered bill, signing my name with a flourish and adding a twenty-five percent tip to the total.
“Thanks and have a great holiday,” I said, walking him to the door.
By the time I turned around, Maggie was already peeking under the silver domes, groaning at the food porn.
“You called back and got dessert and champagne?” she asked, her cheeks pink with pleasure, making the afterthought feel like a total win.
I shrugged. “It’s New Year’s. We’ve gotta have champagne.”
I moved to stand beside her and breathed in deep. The buttery, salty smell of Maggie’s food overpowered my burger and my mouth watered just thinking of the meal to come. Settling the trays on the small round table in the corner, I passed Maggie her cutlery and gestured to the cheesy dish as we took our seats.
“I’m definitely trying that,” I warned her.
She laughed. “Good, because I was planning on having half your burger anyway.”
“Deal,” I said.
She cut the bun in half then placed her portion on the plate in front of her before setting the rest in front of me.
I popped the bottle and then poured equal measures into the glass flutes between us.
“I feel like a princess. Room service and champagne. Pay-per-view.” She clinked her glass against mine. “This is the good life.”
I grinned. “Nothing but the best for my best girl.”
I swallowed hard, noticing not for the first time that Maggie’s gorgeous, trim legs were bare. It was distracting, and every time she moved I caught another flash of her creamy skin.
Forcing myself to focus on our food, I dug my fork into her mac and cheese and took a bite. The buttery succulence of the lobster exploded in my mouth, only slightly tempered by the soft, creamy cheese.
“That’s amazing.” I pointed to the plate with my fork.
Maggie took a bite, her eyes rolling back as she let out a little moan of approval. My cock twitched at the sound and the look of sheer satisfaction on her face, but I shifted in my seat and took a bite of my burger.
Even now, in spite of my decision, I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if the food hadn’t come when it did. If that soft look in her eye would have stayed there as she crossed the room toward me.
In my mind, she’d lift her arms high as she tugged the belly-baring T-shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor. Then we would be past the point of no return, finally both ready to admit the thing I’d known for nearly eight years now.
That we were made for each other.
“You know what I don’t get?” Maggie’s voice dragged me from my thoughts and I glanced up at her.
“What?”
“You broke up with Melanie without mentioning it to me at all, but I break up with Trevor and suddenly the whole world stops.”
I blinked, focusing in on her more intently. This might take some explaining and “I never really cared about any of the girls I’ve been with since the day you and I met” seemed like a little too much right out of the gate. Instead, I popped a fry into my mouth and tried to stay nonchalant. “Well, eight years and six months are pretty different breakups.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t like that with Yolanda. Remember, we went bar hopping and got drunk in the movie theater when you broke up with her?”
I rolled my eyes. “We were still in college. To be fair, for a while there, I thought she could be the one.”
“And why wasn’t she?”
“Other than the fact that she dumped me?” I shot back.
Maggie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “She dumped you? You always told me—”
“I know. Shit.” I let out another low oath under my breath. This wasn’t how I’d planned for things to go, but I couldn’t lie to her either. Not anymore. “Yeah, she dumped me.”
“What?” Her eyes shot wide as she held a forkful of lobster aloft. “So you don’t have a perfect ‘never been dumped’ record after all?” she demanded.
I raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Guess not. Shame, right?”
“So why did she dump you? Did she at least give you a reason?”
I hedged. “That’s sort of why I...intentionally lied. I didn�
��t need you fighting her.”
“Fighting her?” A laugh burst from her lips. “Was it really that bad?”
“Depends. She said she wasn’t interested in playing second fiddle to you.”
Maggie’s fork clattered into the bowl. “Second fiddle?” She blinked, shaking her head slowly. “She didn’t play second fiddle to me. I’ve always been really respectful of your relationships.”
“Don’t feel bad, Mags. I know you’ve always been really considerate. Her problem was with me, not with you. She just thought...” I tried to find the right words. Ones that wouldn’t scare her away. But there was no other way around this. “She thought you came first for me. Over her.”
Maggie picked up her fork again, studying it like it held all the secrets of the universe. “I guess I can see leaving someone for that reason. Still, I liked her and I’m sorry she felt that way.”
I shrugged. “She wasn’t the one, Mags. She wasn’t serious enough and she was shallow.”
Maggie took a bite of her burger and groaned.
“Oh my God, that’s incredible,” she murmured, her mouth still partially full as she chewed. “Did you try that?”
I laughed. “Yeah, pretty good, right?”
“Better than sex,” she said, leaning over to get a bigger bite and giving me a clear shot down the front of her V-neck.
I glanced away, not wanting to intrude on her privacy, but as her delighted sounds of culinary rapture filled the room, I shifted in my seat trying to quell the ache inside me—the need to hear her moaning and gasping for me instead of some second-rate cheeseburger.
“Have you thought any more about hitting the slopes?” I muttered, grappling for a safe topic of conversation.
She shook her head, straightening again. “No way. I stand by my decision. Skiing is a death trap.”
“I think you’d like it if you just gave it a chance.”
“There are a lot of things I might like that I’ll never try. Sky diving. Base jumping. Swimming with hungry sharks.”
“Why do the sharks have to be hungry?”
“Because what’s the fun of well-fed sharks?” she shot back. “But, on that note, that reminds me.” She pushed away from the table, food forgotten, and rose to her feet. “I brought something with me. I know you said I should wait until your birthday and all, but, well, now it’s sort of a thank you gift. For everything you’ve done for me. And it kind of makes more sense to have it now than later.”
