Page 26 of Tempt

“We finished it last night. A few times, in fact.” That gets a murmur out of the crowd. There, I’ve given them their thrill for the morning.

The line shuffles forward. So I shuffle forward, and Sam moves with me. He looks like he hasn’t slept at all, because he spent the first half of the night having three rounds of sex with me, and the second half managing family drama. I don’t want any part of the latter, but oh, the first part was very good.

I prefer him like this versus the polished man who sat down across from me last night. Now he’s rumpled, and a little desperate. But I’d like him even more if he wasn’t carrying a ton of baggage and family drama.

This line isn’t the place to talk about that, though.

Or our unfinished business which he ominously brought up, but then didn’t elaborate on. I bet our audience is disappointed that he’s now just standing beside me silently.

When we reach the counter, I tell the ticket person my name and ticket number from yesterday. Sam leans in and does the same, as if we are together.

“We aren’t together,” I clarify.

“We bought our tickets separately, but we sat together yesterday,” he says, which isn’t a lie. The clear allusion to us having some sort of romantic something on the train works on the ticket agent, too, who gives Sam a sweet, beaming grin. “If there’s a way—”

But his charm doesn’t help. She shakes her head after consulting with the computer. “I’m sorry, there aren’t any more business class seats on this train. We can offer you economy seats and a partial credit for future use.”

Economy is just fine by me. Less intimate than business class. And Sam won’t cram himself onto a crowded train.

“That’s fine,” he says.

It’s not. I swivel my head back and forth between him and the clerk, trying to find the right words to tell him to go home, but the way she’s frowning at her screen and clicking furiously, I’m starting to get worried.

And then a sigh as the radio beside her crackles to life. The ticket person puts on her most sympathetic face. I’m not sure if she’s more sorry about inconveniencing my plans or ruining Sam’s clear attempts to train romance. “I’m so sorry.”

I can feel my train ticket slipping away.

I’m ready for it when she says there is a problem with one of the cars, and no more tickets can be issued for this train.

I’mfine.

The hot prickle of tears behind my eyelids are simply understandable frustration. Nodding, I move away from the counter. And I take a deep breath, ignoring the rioting feelings inside me that are definitely about missing yet another trip and not about the too-large, too-confident presence right beside me.

Sam leans in, his voice low and sure. “I can get a car. I’ll drive you to Ottawa.”

Five hours in a car with the man whose bed I just slipped out of without so much as a goodbye. That won’t be awkward at all. “Neither of us got much sleep last night. I was going to catch some rest on the train.”

“Then we go back to my place and have a nap first.”

“Sam—”

He catches me by the elbow and spins me around so we’re glaring at each other. “Why’d you leave, Hazel?”

I look away.

“Don’t do that,” he whispers.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“The cold shoulder of indifference is a Hazel McLaughlin classic,” he bites out. “Don’tignoreme.”

Shock ripples through me. There’s nothing confident about the hurt in his voice. As soon as he says it, he tries to take it back.

“I shouldn’t—”

“Why would you say that to me?” But I know. I know the bark isn’t aboutme, but I left his bed.He left first.

“I want more time with you.”

---