by A. K. Evans
Instead of answering me, Sam lifted her glass to her lips and took another sip. She set the glass down, but my eyes never left hers. She smiled seductively at me.
Fuck.
This woman.
“Stick with me, babe,” I instructed, a rough edge to my voice. “I’ll keep you sane.”
“I want to be like you,” she rasped.
What?
I straightened from the counter of the bar and asked, “What does that mean?”
“I hate my job.”
While Sam had made it clear she struggled with dealing with the stresses of her job, I didn’t understand how that related to me, or more specifically, her wanting to be like me.
“I’m sorry. I’m still not following you,” I told her.
She took in a deep breath and blew it out before she explained, “I work as an event sales director because it pays my bills, but my dream is to make shirts.”
“Shirts?”
“Shirts.” When I made no move to respond to that, Sam added, “Kick-ass T-shirts.”
My head tipped to the side as a hopeful look moved through Sam’s face. Suddenly, it all made sense. I was willing to bet that the T-shirt she was wearing currently was one of hers, and the fact that I’d complimented it was why she’d been so moved before.
My eyes dipped to the shirt again, took it in, and returned to her face. “Is that one of yours?” I asked.
Sam nodded.
“So, why aren’t you doing that full time?” I wondered.
“Because I’d have to make a full-time income to be able to make that happen,” she answered. “For now, I’m doing it on the side, selling a handful of shirts each week on my website, and praying it’s going to take off one of these days.”
“You’ve got a website?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
I moved to the other end of the bar, grabbed my phone from under the counter, and made my way back to Sam. After pulling up a browser, I held it out to her and asked, “Can I check it out?”
Sam took my phone, tapped on the screen, and handed it back to me. I scrolled through and looked at just a bit of what she had, and there was no doubt in my mind that she was born to do this.
“These are awesome,” I praised her.
“Do you mean that, or are you just saying it so I leave you a really good tip?” she asked.
My face was serious as I stared into her Caribbean blue eyes and promised, “I really mean that.”
There was a moment of hesitation before she whispered, “Thanks, Cal.”
This meant a lot to her, and I hoped she figured out how to make it happen.
Silence stretched between us, and just as I was about to make my move to ask for her number, the front door opened, Demi walked in, and I lost my chance.
Much like Sam had done when she came in, Demi walked up to the bar, slapped a twenty down, and said, “Give me whatever you’ve got that’s readily available. I’m in no mood to wait right now. Not after the day I had.”
Sam and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. Then I got on getting Demi a drink, so she could fill us in on her day.
It was safe to say it was the best day I’d had in the last four weeks.
Two months later
“Birthday shots for the birthday girl!”
That demand came from Demi. I didn’t delay in giving in to her request because not only did I not want an angry Demi on my hands, but I also wanted to do my part to celebrate Sam’s birthday.
It meant everything to me that she and Demi had come out to Granite for a late-night celebration. What I loved even more than that was that Sam had arrived dressed to kill. The woman was everything sexy and seductive.
She was wearing a dress that fit her body like a second skin, and I saw every gorgeous curve.
In fact, even though I’d been behind the bar for the entire night, I was certain I’d committed each delicious curve to memory. More than that, I was also acutely aware of just how her body moved because Sam had spent nearly the entire night dancing.
And I wasn’t the only one. I’d noticed the other men in the room watching her and Demi. They were both gorgeous. While I didn’t like the idea of any of the men looking at them like they were nothing more than a good time, I especially didn’t like them looking at Sam like that. I wanted to keep her all to myself.
I didn’t know how I was holding myself back from her. I’d never been like this with a woman before now. If I saw someone I liked, I made a move. But something was different about Sam, and I was doing all I could to make sure I didn’t do anything to screw up any chance I had with her. In fact, I was so consumed by her, I hadn’t even looked at another woman like that since I met Sam.
There was no denying the attraction between us. Even though I hadn’t seen Sam for two months, the second she walked through the door, the air in the room changed. She was all that existed for me, and she wore an expression that told me it was the same for her with me.
I put three shots on the bar, took one for myself, and held it up while Sam and Demi each took one.
“To Samantha,” I started. “Happy birthday.”
She beamed a beautiful smile at me before throwing her head back and downing the shot. As soon as they set their glasses down, her eyes came to mine.
“Time to get back out there,” Demi declared.
“We just got here,” Sam argued.
“Yeah, and now that we got what we came here for, we’re going back out,” Demi insisted, curling her fingers around Sam’s wrist. “If you’re ever going to find a man, you need to shake that booty.”
Sam’s eyes widened, but before she could protest, Demi gave her wrist a tug, and she stumbled off the stool.
Jesus.
As Demi dragged Sam away from me, Sam twisted her neck and looked back at me. Her eyes said everything her mouth couldn’t. She wanted to stay on the stool for a bit to talk. Not wanting her to feel any sadness on her birthday, I returned a look that I hope communicated it was all good and she should enjoy herself.
Two hours later, if the sight of her dancing all night hadn’t already communicated it, I got confirmation that she’d done just that. And thankfully, she never found a man.
“We’re heading out,” Sam said.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I walked away and came out from behind the bar. When I made it to where she was standing with my cousin, I replied, “I’m glad you stopped in to celebrate here. If I had known, I would have made sure there was a cake waiting for you.”
She tipped her head to the side and said, “Aw, that’s sweet.”
My eyes went to Demi. “You have a ride home?” I confirmed.
“Yes, Cal. We’ve got a ride home,” she answered.
Knowing it’d be easier to do what I wanted, I first moved toward Demi. I put an arm around her and pulled her in for a hug. “Be safe,” I told her.
She hugged me back and said, “We will be.”
After I loosened my hold on her and she stepped back, I turned toward Sam. Not knowing how she’d respond but desperately wanting to touch her, I held my arms out to her. There was not an ounce of hesitation on her part. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or not, but I didn’t care.
Sam pressed her gorgeous body against mine and wrapped her arms around me. I closed my arms around her back and gave her a squeeze. “I hope you had a great time tonight,” I said.
Keeping a firm hold on me, she tipped her head back and looked up into my eyes. “I had the best time. Thanks, Cal,” she responded, her voice raspy and seductive.
I tried to beat back how that made me feel while simultaneously memorizing how her body felt against mine. Then I smiled at her and gave her a squeeze before I let her go.
After they left, I pulled my phone out and programmed Sam’s birthday into it.
And though it was a day late, I got up the next morning, went on her website, and ordered myself a bunch of T-shirts. It was the only way I could think of to make her day spe
cial since I still didn’t have her number.
But secretly, it was my way of giving her my number. I could only hope she would call.
Three
Calvin
Three months later
My phone buzzed in my pocket as I walked out to my car. I was leaving work early for the first time in months because I had plans. They weren’t exactly the plans I’d been hoping for all along, but they were the best I’d had in a really long time.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I saw that I’d received a text from Sam. Seeing it, I couldn’t help but smile.
Then again, I’d noticed I’d been doing that a lot over the last three months.
The afternoon following Sam’s birthday celebration at Granite, my phone rang. She’d received my T-shirt order and insisted on calling me to thank me.
“I can’t believe you bought five shirts,” she said when she called me that day.
“I needed some new clothes,” I lied. But then I followed up with a bit of truth and shared, “I’ve been meaning to purchase from your store for a while now. I was kind of looking at this as a belated birthday present.”
“So, let me get this straight. You bought yourself a present to celebrate my birthday,” she teased.
I laughed. “I could have bought some for you, but I figured you already had them all,” I reasoned. “Besides, now that you have the profit from those shirts, you can use it to get yourself whatever you want.”
There was a moment of silence before she quietly replied, “Thank you, Cal. It really means a lot to me that you bought my shirts.”
I could hear the sincerity in her tone and wondered how it would make her feel to see me wearing her shirts.
“You’re welcome,” I responded.
Ever since that day, Sam and I have talked with each other regularly. It was such a relief to finally have that connection to her. When I wanted to talk to her, I no longer needed to wait around at Granite, hoping she’d walk through the door. I could send her a text or give her a call. Many nights, I’d take an earlier break at the bar and move to the back office just to talk to her when our schedules were conflicting. We didn’t talk every day, but we touched base every week.
Sam and I hadn’t exactly defined our relationship with one another. We were simply just going with the flow. We communicated frequently with one another. Sometimes we spoke to each other on the phone, but we also sent a lot of text messages. Texting just worked better with our schedules most times.
And surprisingly, I’d learned a lot about Sam from her text messages. She could go through a whole battery of emotions in a single text string. I could often tell when she was having a bad day because she’d send lots of short phrase texts without any punctuation. Those were the days I sat back and watched them all come in before responding. I liked to give her the chance to get out everything she needed to get out before doing what I could to make it better. Most times, I’d simply tell her to stop by Granite after work so she could unload all of it and unwind from it.
Other times, she’d randomly send me pictures. Of course, I’d been hoping they would be pictures of her, but I wasn’t so lucky. She sent me pictures of her latest ideas for T-shirt designs.
Sam blew me away with her talent. I still couldn’t understand how she hadn’t already hit it big with her business. She was determined, though, so I knew with her skills and fierceness, she’d eventually get there.
But the best texts of all were the ones where she’d simply ask me a question out of the blue. Without any sort of warning, she’d ask the strangest things. There was a wide variety, and they never failed to make me laugh. She’d start each of the texts off by sending a single word first.
Sam: Question.
Once I replied letting her know to hit me with it, she’d throw it at me. And I lived for those questions.
Sam: Toilet paper, over or under?
Sam: What would be the worst ‘buy one get one free’ sale of all time?
Sam: If animals could talk, which one would be the rudest?
Question days were always my favorite days. Because the conversation would last for hours as we both continued to go about our regular routines with work or whatever else we might have been doing while having a lengthy—and often, very animated—conversation about inconsequential things. It made me excited for how things would be when I finally had the chance to take her out.
Yes. Even though it had been almost six months to the day since I’d met her, I still had not asked Sam out. I didn’t know what I was waiting for. I liked the relationship we had now. It filled me up in ways I didn’t know a friendship with a woman could. She made me laugh, we had incredible chemistry and conversation, and I always felt good whenever she was around.
I didn’t know if I was nervous about ruining what we had or if it was something else. For a while, I had told myself it was because the timing was never right, especially before I’d gotten her phone number. But now that I had the opportunity to talk to her whenever I wanted, it seemed like it was even more of an impossible task.
I still wanted her in a way that had nothing to do with simply being just friends with one another, but part of me was worried that I’d lose what I had with her. To top it off, sometimes, I started to doubt whether she was interested in me like that. She had been very comfortable around me, so I found myself second-guessing the mutual attraction.
I continued to tell myself that I was going to do it; I just needed to wait for the perfect moment. Until then, I loved what I had with her. I just knew I’d love it more if we became more than what we were now.
Sliding my finger across my screen as I approached my car, I navigated to Sam’s text.
Sam: So you’ll be meeting us at my place tonight, right?
I would be. Because there was no way I’d be missing this. Sam knew that was the plan, and yet, she still reached out to confirm anyway.
Me: Leaving Granite now. Heading home to get ready, and then I’ll be there.
Sam: Awesome. See you soon!
Me: Later.
One evening about two weeks ago, Demi and Sam had come into Granite. Demi had talked Sam and me into going with her to a Christmas festival that was anything but jolly. It was some kind of Bah Humbug celebration that focused on all the bad things about Christmas: visits with in-laws, trees that were half-lit because one bulb burned out, posing for Christmas photos, and incessant Christmas caroling.
It sounded like a nightmare to me.
But Sam was going to be there, so not going wasn’t an option.
Three and a half hours later, I was done.
Done.
I was generally an easygoing guy. This was too much. Too much music, too many lights, too much sugar, and too many people.
Coming from a guy who owned a bar and was accustomed to music and people, this was saying something.
In this instance, I had a feeling the number of people there bothering me had more to do with the fact that I just wanted to have time alone with Sam, and I wasn’t getting it. I knew that any time with her was better than nothing, but if I didn’t find a way to make this happen soon, I was going to lose my mind.
“If we don’t get him out of here soon, I think he’s going to go crazy,” Demi pointed out.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Cal’s had enough,” Demi clarified.
I shot both of them a look that I hope communicated I was ready to leave.
“Oh, okay,” Sam said. “I guess we probably should get going anyway. This was a unique idea, but it really is over the top.”
Demi huffed. “Fine. Let me just run to the ladies’ room first. I’ve had one too many cups of hot chocolate tonight.”
Sam giggled. “Okay. Cal and I will wait here for you.”
As Demi took off in the direction of the restrooms, Sam and I grabbed a seat on one of the benches.
“I love her,” Sam said. “Only Demi could find such joy in a place that shares her disdain for anything typically cheer
ful.”
“Yeah, she’s always been like that,” I shared. “But I think it’s what makes her so lovable. She’s happy being a pessimist.”
“Isn’t that oxymoronic?” Sam asked.
I shrugged. “It’s Demi. That’s what I know.”
“So, do you have any big plans for Christmas?” she asked.
“Just doing the family thing with my parents and grandparents,” I answered. “What about you?”
She hesitated a moment before she replied, “The same. Except my older brother and his wife will be coming home for the festivities, too.”
“That’s cool. Where do they live?” I asked.
“Maine.”
Just then, I realized that Sam was sitting beside me and talking with me, but she was also freezing. The temps had dropped substantially, and we’d been outside for a while.
Noticing how she was starting to tremble, I wrapped an arm around her back until my hand landed on her opposite arm. Keeping both hands on her arms, I began to stroke up and down to create a bit of friction.
Sam instantly leaned toward me, and her head landed right in my throat.
“It’s suddenly so cold,” she said, her teeth beginning to chatter.
“It probably feels worse because we stopped moving,” I noted, pulling her a bit closer to me. “Here, why don’t we stand up?”
Keeping my arms around her, I stood and turned fully, so Sam’s front was pressed against mine. I didn’t exactly appreciate all the layers we were both wearing at that point, but it wasn’t all bad. Sam burrowed in as close as she could get, and her scent completely invaded my nostrils. I loved it. As I continued to stroke my hands up and down her arms and back, she tipped her chin up to bring her eyes to mine. There was a smile on her face, which had turned a bit red from the cold weather.
“Feel better?” I asked.
