Page 87 of Mark my Words

“Someone promised me food,” I deflected as he sat down on one side, gesturing for me to sit across from him.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for,” he confessed, grasping the handles on the top of both domes. “So we have carb overload and more meat than anyone should probably eat in one sitting.”

The plate on the left had a steaming pile of pancakes on one side and a few slices of French toast with a generous dusting of powdered sugar on the other. He was right about the other plate. Crispy bacon pieces were piled high next to an equally impressive stack of sausage links.

“That’s quite a lot of meat you’ve got there, Sam,” I giggled, my eyes widening before I realized the joke I’d walked into.

“Nothing you can’t handle, Kristine,” he winked before picking up a piece of bacon and biting it. Maybe today would be more fun than I was expecting.

The next ten minutes had me practically squirming against his sheets as we ate companionably side by side. Sam offered me bites of rich, eggy, sweet French toast on his fork, dripping in syrup in between, practically devouring the entire pile of bacon.

I slapped his hand as he reached for the last piece, pointing the end of my fork at his face. “Hands off. That’s my meat.”

“So possessive,” he laughed as he reached for it again, ignoring my glare and pushing my fork down with his other hand before he lifted the piece to my lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll share my meat with you anytime.”

“Freak,” I giggled, taking an overly large bite and fake moaning as I chewed, enjoying the predatory look in his eyes as he watched me lick my lips.

“You seem to like it.” His voice was low as he popped the rest of the piece into his mouth, winking as my eyes widened when I realized he’d stolen the rest of it.

“You’ll pay for that,” I warned, jabbing my fork into the last breakfast sausage and turning away from his grabby hands.

“Bring it on,” he laughed, watching me take a bite with rapt attention.

After our breakfast of foreplay, Sam requested an Uber and wouldn’t tell me what our first destination would be. I tried to peek at his phone as we waited at the curb, but he shoved it into his pocket before I could wrestle it out of his hand as if that’d stop me.

“Chill. You’ll like it, but you do need this,” he laughed as he pressed a small plastic package into my hand. “Wait to open it until we get there.”

Sam pointed out landmarks as we rode across the city. The traffic was busy but steadily moving as we worked toward Lake Michigan. I had a feeling I knew what we were doing when I saw the iconic Ferris wheel of Navy Pier come into view, but Sam was still tight-lipped.

“Boat tour?” I guessed as he tugged me out of the car and checked his watch, grasping my hand and weaving through the crowd toward the sidewalk to the right of the long pier.

“You’ll see,” he smiled as he looked back, squeezing my hand and tugging me along.

There were a few ferry boats moored at the dock, and I paused, watching the people file onto their berths. They were smaller than the ferries out of Boston Harbor to get to Nana’s, but they looked fun enough.

“Come on,” Sam tugged, gesturing with his head further down the pier. Once we passed the crowd, a smaller red boat sitting docked beside the larger ones became visible, a line of people chatting excitedly as a crew member unhooked the rope and waved the first few passengers forward. Sam pulled me after him, holding his phone out for them to scan his tickets before he grasped my hips and urged me onto the metal gangplank.

I glanced over my shoulder at him, laughing as he wiggled his eyebrows at me, nodding forward. He steered me to an empty row of seats toward the front, sliding in after me and throwing his arm over my shoulders as he leaned in close. “This work for you? Thought you might get bored on one of the other, more sedate, tours.”

Before I could respond, a man with a megaphone stepped up in the front of the boat, and the crowd quieted down.

“Welcome aboard the extreme thrill sea dog ride of the Chicago lakefront. Are we ready to get wet?”

My eyes widened as I looked at Sam and down at the small package in my hand. Tearing it open, I saw a waterproof bag, the perfect size for slipping my purse and sweatshirt. “You planned this.”

“Wouldn’t want you to get too wet,” he laughed, holding the bag open as I shoved my things inside, rolling the top and stowing it in the mesh pocket of the seat in front of me. He sat back and fastened his seat belt, and I followed suit, pulling the belt tight across my lap.

“We both know that’s a lie,” I chuckled as I leaned into his shoulder, not hesitating when he placed his hand palm-side-up on his thigh.

Grasping his hand, I smiled up at him, unable to resist his infectious good mood.

“You’ve got a little something…” I giggled as I gestured to the wet spot on the front of Sam’s shorts. We’d both gotten soaked as the boat twisted and spun, picking up speed across the lake and spraying water all over the passengers. I had to admit, it was fun, and Sam didn’t mind as I screamed, loving the way he kept pulling me into his side.

“Yeah...” he laughed, awkwardly pulling at the soaked material. “Didn’t help that you were climbing in my lap and dripping your hair all over me when he started spinning the boat.”

“You’ve never argued with me climbing into your lap before.”

“Wasn’t arguing this time either. Just looks like I can’t control myself now,” he laughed, pulling me in front of him and wrapping his arms around my waist, the tips of his wet hair tickling my cheek. “You’ll just have to walk in front of me to hide my embarrassing wet spot.”

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