Page 60 of Never Say Yes To A Stranger

“Does ballsing up work? As a woman, I’m genuinely curious.”

“I have no idea. Any therapist would say it’s macho talk and bad advice. But I have no advice. I have a lot of money and properties, investments, and a company, but that’s about it. I’m just built up on the outside and not much at all on the inside. That’s what I’m offering. If you’re still…if you’d like to have me.”

She stands still for half a second, and then she steps forward, wrapping her fists in my shirt and dragging me to her. “You’re soaking wet,” she chides me before she threads her hands around my neck and pulls my face down. I get water all over her, raining like a second cloud inside the porch. She’s right. I’m ahuman shower. “I once said you should choose forgiveness and happiness above anything else and that it should be allowed to triumph over bitterness and hate. I want to choose that now. Iamchoosing that now, Beau. I—”

I can’t stop. I might be a human rainshower, but I have to kiss her anyway. If I don’t have my lips on hers, I’m not going to make it another minute. I’ve made it far too many hours and days and weeks that turned into months, throwing myself into anything and everything I could to banish this woman from my head and life, but it didn’t work. I couldn’t cut out the memories. I couldn’t cut out the want and desire. I couldn’t cut out the fact that once I had something more, I wanted more and more and more of her. I wanted more of her kindness, her goodness, her warmth.

I kiss her cheek, and she tilts her face so I can have her lips. I take them hard, kissing her the way I know she likes to be kissed. My hands grasp her hips over the rain slicker, and her lips open up for me. I thrust my tongue into her mouth, and she whimpers. One leg comes up, and she tries to hook it around me to get closer.

“Jesus. Wow. I’ve had the drinks done forever. I was waiting for you two to wrap it up, but then you both apparently decided you don’t hate each other and want to get it on, and that’s just—not on the porch. Please. My eyes are bleeding.”

We spring apart, but Ignacia takes my hand. “I truly wanted to find you, but I couldn’t. I’ve been hoping that one day you’d show up on my porch, giving me a codeword.”

“What’s that?” I don’t have it. Shit, I don’t…I’m not ready to say I love her. I don’t even knowhowto love someone. I need a slower introduction. I need her to teach me, break me into it, and guide me to it. I need her gentle and patient instruction. I need…I just need all of her for as long as I draw breath. I knowthat. Right here, right now. Does that count as love, even small dose love or small little love?

She stands on her tiptoes to brush my cheek with her lips. They’re still too cold. I want to kiss the rain off them all over again, kiss the heat back into her. “It’s Sam,” she whispers in my ear.

“Sam.” I brush back the wet tendrils of hair, cupping her face.

“The drinks are getting coooooolddddd,” her sister sings from the door before slamming it shut.

“You’re a bad influence, you know,” Ig—Sam goads me, taking my frigid fingers in hers. I’ll be warm again in no time if I can just sit and bask in her glow.

“How’s that?” Well, how am I not a bad influence? It’s her goodness that’s rubbed off on me. It’s her goodness that brought to the surface what little humanity I had left and magnified it to the point where I could believe in it again.

“I can’t stop calling my cat an absolute unit. She’s started to answer to that name now,” Sam chides.

Of all the things in the world…

“You’re a bad influence too. I can’t stop thinking of insults in terms of butts,” I retort.

We both throw our heads back, and our laughter spills off the porch and echoes out into the pounding rain.

Chapter eighteen

Sam

(Finally. Just. Sam.)

We’ve never shared a bed before that wasn’t under contract. Beau has never spent a night in this house as truly himself. I was a job to him, and he had to lie to me. He drafted contracts as part of that lie, but they would still have stood. They were meant to protect us both.

It feels surreal to walk into my room and find him on the side of the bed that I’ve thought of as his over the past few months. Ever since that first night, it has belonged to him.

Kind of like my heart.

We were never meant to end up here, but we did. We were never meant to fall in love, but I hope we do. An unlikely outcome between two unlikely people could never have been predicted. We weren’t supposed to find a happy ending or a happily ever after, but I hope we do. I know that, technically, the only ending in life is death, but I hope that’s a long way off for both of us. I want to fill the years we have from now until thenwith laughter, happiness, and goodness for both of us. I used to wish I could heal this man just by touching him, but I couldn’t. It’s going to take more than that. No person can heal anyone else, but now he wants to do it for himself. He wants to be here with me and be open to doing the things he never thought he could do again. Like feel. Fall. Love. Cherish. Be together forever.

Beau never could stick to his side. I always felt jammed up on the remainder of the bed. He’s too big. Too larger-than-life. Too all-encompassing. Seeing him take up more than his fair share of the mattress while covered with my patchwork quilt makes my chest feel bruised by the amount of happiness that hits me. The little butterflies I stitched onto the quilt to cover up the rips and tears since it’s old and a garage sale find seem to flutter as they dance all over the surface, hiding strong limbs, lean muscles, and a body that mine has been craving for months.

I want to throw myself into his arms, but I close the door gently, walk over with immense control, and slip under the blankets instead.

We both freeze, staring at each other. I want to leap on top of him, and if he doesn’t want that, then I need to inform him of my desire for him so he can tie me to the headboard to physically stop me, but the words die on my tongue.

“Do you think your sister knows what’s going to happen in here tonight? Is that why she went out to the barn?”

That’s a really good icebreaker. I laugh and stick my hands in my lap so as to keep them to myself. That’s also a pretty clear flashing neon sign that saysI want you too, Sam. I want to do all the unspeakable things to you that you once told me you wanted. I’ve been thinking about sticking my meat candle into your candle holder this entire time, and I’m barely human right now with how badly I want you.

“Oh. She…uh…she doesn’t live in the house. She did at first when she moved in, but we’ve been renovating the barn, and now that I’ve got it fixed structurally, she can live out there. I’ve asked her a thousand times to keep her room in here, but she wants her own space. She has this dream for the barn, of turning it into an antiques slash little clothing shop. I’m not sure who would come all the way out here, but it’s her vision, and I’m not going to mess with it. She’s been sort of restless all her life, but really, I think she just hasn’t found her groove, and people have always told her no. They’ve doubted her so often that she doesn’t believe in herself. She also wants to grow vegetables in the summer and do farmer’s markets. Apparently, there are a ton of them around here.”

---