Page 124 of Hunt for You

I would have used that as a euphemism.

Except… with him, it wasn’t. I knew it wasn’t.

So, when I’d pulled into the driveway of the simple, old but clean little house with a lawn that needed to be mowed, and patchy weeds in the flowerbeds, I almost backed out and left again.

I was still sitting there, engine on, when the front door opened and Sam leaned out and my heart beat faster, and a little harder and I knew I wasn’t going to leave.

He stood in the doorway, watching me. He was wearing a slim-fitting t-shirt and a pair of distressed jeans. His hair was scattered across his forehead, dark and shiny like he’d justgotten out of the shower. His arms were bare so I could enjoy his tattoos. And when he stepped out of the house to walk down the little cracked cement path, my mouth went dry because that shirt hugged him in all the right places and revealed that thenot-Priestwas definitely still working out.

I still hadn’t turned the engine off on the car when he got to the door, so I rolled down the window and looked up at him, trying to smile, but knowing I wasn’t really pulling it off.

He leaned over me, gripping the door of the car where the window should have been closed. It made the tendons stand up on his hand, and his muscles flex. I had to swallow.

“You okay, Bridget?” he asked quietly, his voice warm… and a little bit worried.

I shook my head. But I couldn’t stop staring at him.

“Do you need some time? Or do you want to come inside?”

I looked past him at the house and wondered where this was going to lead.

Not priest.

Lots of muscles.

A shirt that I could get my claws into and—

I swallowed hard. “I’ll come in.”

Sam smiled and reached down to open the door for me, opening it and waiting until I got out, before closing it too.

He gestured for me to walk ahead of him to the house, so I did, the skin on the back of my neck prickling because he was a lot taller than me and staring down and me, and I liked that feeling.

Then we got inside and the door opened straight into the living room and it was… normal. A little bit dusty. Very plain. But… normal.

Thick couch against the wall under the window.

Television on the wall with cords falling down, and an Xbox.

Old bookshelves filled with books.

An open archway that gave a glimpse of a small kitchen.

Sunlight coming through the windows.

Normal.

“Do you want a coffee or… something else?” He asked as he closed the door behind me, then walked towards the kitchen, flapping a hand for me to follow him. But I didn’t at first. I just stood there awkwardly in the middle of the floor, uncertain if I was going to flee.

“I’m fine,” I said, then bit my lip when he walked past me and I got to see how those jeans hugged his ass.

You did good on this one, God.

“Well, I’m just going to get a cup… come through here. I’ve got lunch on the dining table. We can eat when you’re hungry.”

I followed him through the little galley kitchen, then I kept walking to the dining room on the other side—small. The table would only seat four. But there was a lovely big window and the sun beamed through it, revealing an ill-kempt, but cute garden and back lawn behind the house.

“This is a cute place,” I said carefully, uncertain how a man would feel about it being described that way.

---