Page 57 of Trip Me Up

22

NIALL

“Sam.”I knocked on her door. Not loudly—it was late—but forcefully enough that she’d hear me. She couldn’t be asleep. Not after that dinner. I was so wired from being on edge I might not sleep for days. Did her brother know I’d made out with his little sister the night before? He was an inch or two taller than me, not as bulky, but he’d fight like a snake, distracting me with his sharp tongue and then striking unexpectedly. I wouldn’t be able to fight back, anyway; I couldn’t hurt the brother of someone I was growing to care about.

What had he said to Sam to make her go pale like that? If he’d said something hurtful, I’d find him and put him on the floor, brother or not.

Bilbo snuffled at the bottom of the door. Then he yapped. Good. She’d have to come to the door.

The chain clacked. Then the bolt. Then the extra bolt from Gabi’s cousin. The door cracked open to reveal a sliver of Sam: dark hair in her face, drooping eyes, pale skin, tank top and pajama pants. I blinked away from her collarbones and creamy shoulders to focus on her face.

“I had to see that you’re—Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just…just tired.” She opened the door wide enough for Bilbo to slip out.

When he scratched at my ankles, I bent to scoop him up. He licked my chin. “He—your brother—didn’t say anything cruel, did he?”

Her eyes widened. “Jackson would never. He was fine. He had to leave. His wife is in labor.”

“Oh. Wow.” An image burst into my head of Sam holding a child, looking down into its big blue eyes, bouncing it a little, humming. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

The answer came too fast, like she didn’t need to think about it. Shit, I’d fucked everything up the other night by coming on too strong. She wanted to be colleagues. Me? I was standing in the hallway outside her room begging to be let inside. Colleagues didn’t do that. Only people who cared did. And I couldn’t fool myself anymore: I cared. I needed to tell her. To be honest with her. “Just to talk?”

She considered for a second. “No. I’m really tired, and we have that thing at the publisher in the morning.” She held out her hands for the dog.

“Don’t shut me out, Sam.” It was a plea.

She stared at my middle shirt button. “It’s late.”

I placed the dog gently into her palms. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. Want to have breakfast before?” We’d talk then.

“I don’t think so, Niall. Good-night.” She shut the door, and the chain jingled.

Fuck. What had I done?

* * *

The next morning,I paced in front of the hotel’s automatic sliding doors. I almost went to the front desk half a dozen times to see that she hadn’t checked out. She was five minutes late, and it was still rush hour, and…shit. I didn’t give a damn if we were late. It was Sam I was worried about.

The elevator doors opened, and she sprang out with Bilbo on his leash. “Sorry. Sorry I’m late.” Her eyes weren’t haunted this morning; they sparkled. “I was waiting for the news. I’m an aunt! Of a newborn this time.” She flipped over her phone and showed me a photo of an infant, its face scrunched up under one of those pink-and-blue hospital caps. A clear tube ran under its nostrils. “Don’t worry about the oxygen. They said she’s doing fine.”

Grinning, she held out her arms, and I stepped into her embrace, squeezing her tightly. I inhaled her rosemary scent. Maybe we could get back to friendship, where we were before we’d kissed. Before everything had gone to shit. “Congratulations.”

She tugged herself free. “It’s a girl. They named her Valentine. Because, you know, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

I’d lost track of the days. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Shit! Would she think I wanted to force her into some romantic activity? “I mean, for your niece.”

She scrunched up her nose. “You’re right. It takes on a new meaning now. Itisher day. And knowing my brother, he’ll try to get theJonesadded to the holiday’s name. He’s absolutely over the moon about her. Shit! We’re running late. Sorry. Let’s go. Is there a car?”

“Waiting outside.” Pulling my coat more tightly around myself, I led her out the automatic door to the town car at the curb. She slid in with Bilbo, and I followed.

Sam filled the car with talk about her new niece and showed the driver and me every new picture as it came in. The baby with her mother, a beautiful blond woman. The baby with an older kid, maybe a preteen, leaning slightly away, his eyes wide, like the child was a werewolf instead of an adorably hairless human baby. Jackson, who somehow looked wired and exhausted and overjoyed at the same time. Jealousy prickled in my chest. He had everything: a successful business, a woman who loved him, a family. And he’d given me shit about my intentions toward his sister.

Well, guess what? I intended to kiss her again if she’d let me.

Sam had just ordered a bouquet of yellow roses to be sent the next day—we’d both goggled at the Valentine’s Day markup—when we pulled up in front of Happy Troll’s building.

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