Page 64 of Sing it, Sam

My head swings around to find Sam’s hand waving at me and the cheekiest grin I’ve seen yet. Heat rushes to my cheeks. My nipples tighten. The contact has me craving more of his touch, but now is not the time. “Did you just slap me?”

He turns his head to the side, nods slyly, and winks a baby blue. “See. Bad boy.”

“Miss Jane?” The female voice is closer still.

I hold up a warning finger to my arse-slapping friend. “One sec.”

I rush over and poke my head into the hall. Mrs Cassidy is two doors down, peering into a room.

“Mrs Cassidy,” I call out.

She smiles as bright as the morning sun when her green–blue eyes connect with mine. “Miss Jane. There you are. Is it time?”

Jogging towards her, I guide her by the elbow, turning her back towards the dining hall. “Just about. If you’d like to take a seat at the activity corner, I’ll be with you shortly.”

“Perfect,” she mutters and wanders off.

When I get back to the room, Sam is standing at the walker, white knuckles revealing his tight grip. His focus is unwavering on the floor a metre in front. The walker hasn’t moved from its position.

“I can’t believe you just did that.” I move close to his side to offer support, just as I’ve seen Paige do.

“You liked it, huh?” Sam says with a waggle of his brows.

I choose not to respond, because I more than liked it. I want Sam’s hands on me. If only we could stay in his room and explore that idea further, but we can’t. I have a freakin’ scrapbooking class to run.Go figure.

“How many steps you think I’ve got?” Sam asks, straightening his back.

“I’m not sure. Maybe forty or so? If you get tired, I’m here. You can take a rest.”

Slowly, we reach the dining hall. Sam keeps a steady pace and manages to smile most of the way. We’re met with almost a dozen eager faces, ready to craft their little hearts out.

Sam pauses and turns his head to look at me. “How’s your arse cheek?”

Biting down on my lower lip, I try to supress my grin. “Stop it.”

“Okay, so the other cheek is jealous. I get it. We can sort it out later. Back in my room.”

“If you don’t shut up,” I growl through clenched teeth, “I’ll take photos of you doing craft and send them viral.”

Sam chuckles. “That’s some threat.”

I guide him the final few metres until he slides into a vacant seat beside Frederick. The two men nod at each other. Sam slowly offers his hand, and they shake. It makes me a little giddy seeing them interact like that, knowing I was the one who got them talking in the first place.

“Thank you for joining me today, everybody. So, who’s brought photos or pictures they’d like to use?” I say as I wander around the table, distributing the packs I put together with different coloured paper, ribbons, borders, and stickers.

“Oh yes,” Mrs Cassidy beams as she places a shoebox on the table. She pries off the lid and tips it on its side, unloading hundreds of photos of her feline friend with varying backgrounds and in different poses.

“Oh man,” Sam grumbles.

I bite my lower lip to stop myself from responding the same way. I’m going to be here all afternoon looking at this freakin’ cat.

“Anyone else?” I ask in a high-pitched tone.

“I brought a couple of Judith and I from when we got married. Ain’t she a doll?” Frederick says, showing the black-and-white photos around.

“I have one of my old Mustang. The love of my life,” Mr Blandford says, holding the picture up in front of his chest.

“Great,” I gush.

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