Page 52 of When Love Is Unexpected

"Every detail of your face is etched in my memory," he says, moving his hand to the crook of my neck.

"You must have a great memory," I say, as his thumb starts tracing a gentle path across my face, touching every freckle.

When he moves his hand to the back of my neck, I close my eyes and surrender to the sensation. He begins a light massage on the nape of my neck, and I feel the day's tension melt away. I think of my little nephew, Jon, giggling and arching his back with delight every time I tickle him. If Sam continues down this path, I might do the same thing.

His thumb touches my bottom lip before his lips dust my face with featherlight kisses. He kisses my cheeks, nose, forehead, and neck. When an involuntary sigh escapes my lips, he nips my ear and whispers, "I told you, kissing is an entirely different language."

"Point taken," I say when I open my eyes and watch him go back to slicing the steaks.

During dinner, we talk about the itinerary for next week, the week before the wedding.

"You're going to be busy," I say. "What am I going to do while you're off playing golf and getting entertained by a stripper at the bachelor party?"

"We're not a stripper kind of family," he says. "The party's at a bar, but I guarantee the most we'll do is drink and maybe watch some sports."

"I do have some shopping to do," I say. "Do you think one of your sisters, if not both, will want to go with me to find a dress for the reunion?"

"My sisters love to shop," he says, "so that could turn into a whole day event."

"I hope they like me," I say.

Reaching for my hand, Sam says, "They're both pretty good judges of character. They're going to love you." He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the knuckles.

"Are you still doing software development?" I ask, trying to remain focused. Why do I feel flustered?

"Yes," he says. "I have four major clients that keep me busy most of the year. A few months ago, I got my degree in software engineering. With that, I plan to take on more complex jobs."

"So, are you on vacation right now?" I ask.

"Yes. The development teams I work with in each company can handle things in my absence. If something pressing comes up, they can contact me. We can fix most issues over the phone or via video chat."

"So, when you freelance, you can live anywhere in the world," I say.

"As long as I have good internet access, a laptop, and a phone, yes."

I nod, looking at him.

"Your wheels are turning," he says, reading my mind.

"Yes," I say. "When you said your life is here, do you mean here in Cold Spring?"

"My family wants me back in San Diego."

"I understand," I say, thinking about Brian and the decision we never had to make.

"What about you?" he asks. "Are you still working as a research assistant at the medical center?"

"I did that part-time for four years. About seven months ago, I started volunteering in the pediatric wing at the same hospital. With school, I found I could only do one, so with my parents' blessing, I quit my job."

"I remember you told me you wanted to volunteer more hours, but I don't think you told me you had quit your job."

"I quit almost three weeks ago," I say. "You stopped calling around that time, remember?"

"It was worth it," he says. "The surprise on your face when you saw me was priceless."

"As soon as I saw the runny eggs, I knew you were here." I smile, and when he smiles back, my insides turn to mush.

"How's your volunteer work going?" he asks.

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