Page 127 of Sing it, Sam

I chuckle, thinking of the two dogs together. “I think he’d love it. I have no doubt he’d happily take a partner in mischief. So long as there’s plenty of food to go around.”

A rap on the door startles me. “Um, guys?” Ben says.

“Yeah, bro,” Sam calls out in a husky morning voice. “We’re decent.”

The door opens revealing Ben in a fresh shirt and jeans, and with damp hair. “Hate to break it up in here, but I’m starving.”

“How about we go out for breaky?” I suggest. Because I get the feeling that I didn’t buy enough bacon and eggs to satisfy the sheriff’s appetite, let alone to cater for Sam and me.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Sam says, leaning up on his elbows. “Got something to celebrate anyhow.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben says. His eyes flit between us.

I shy away from his gaze and shift focus to Sam. Heat bursts into my cheeks. I bet my life that Ben is imagining us having sex. I’m sure he would have heard us anyway. Well, I was quiet. Sam not so much.

“I’ll be moving in with Janie,” Sam informs him. A mega-watt smile pulls up the corners of his mouth.

Ben crosses his arms beneath his chest, staring down his nose at his brother. His chest deflates as he forces a breath through his parted lips. “Bit premature, don’t you think?”

“It’s not like it’s happening tomorrow or anything. But as soon as I get the all-clear, this is where I wanna be.”

“Sure,” Ben says and huffs. “Can we eat?”

Sam grunts. “Yeah, ’kay. We’ll get up.”

Ben retreats and closes the door after him.

“I don’t wanna leave this very spot,” I say, and place a sloppy kiss to Sam’s shoulder.

A short, loud burst of noise beneath the sheets has me frozen in place.Did Sam just …?

A pungent smell wafts up my nostrils. Butch is nowhere in sight.

I cough and pinch the end of my nose. It’s coming from beneath the covers; I’m sure of it. “Oh my god, did you do that?” I say, and grill Sam with a look of disgust.

He chuckles and bites his lower lip. “Let’s just say I did you a favour.”

I throw back the sheets to try and release the trapped air. The smell somehow intensifies as it’s released into the room. “Favour? How is that helping me?”

“I saved you the embarrassment of being the first one of us to fart. No chick wants to be first.”

“Wow,” I say through a chuckle. “That’s how you’re justifying that?” I swat the air above us.

Sam coughs and laughs with me. “Yup. And you’re welcome, babe.”

I reach beside the bed and grab one of my decorative pillows and toss at him. “You’re too much.”

“Yeah, well I blame the soup.” Sam continues to cough until he takes a swig from the glass of water on my bedside table.

“I’ve got some medicine if you want something for that cough?”

“Nah, it’s nothing,” he says and waves it off.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. You’ve likely got a few rogue fart particles trapped in your lungs.”

***

I’m glad I rang ahead to book a table at the Harvest café, because there isn’t an empty chair in sight. Willow Creek will remain in festival mode for the next few days at least, until the last of the visitors trail out of town.

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