Page 66 of Flirting with Mr. Serious

The little boy was momentarily stunned as he stared at his wreckage before yelling, “Sorry!” over his shoulder and taking off in the opposite direction.

“I hate kids,” Sam mumbled, pushing off the pavement, earning a low chuckle from Mike. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” He took hold of her proffered hand and stood with a grunt then rotated his right elbow to look at the bloody scrape on it.

“Does it hurt?”

He shook his head, swiping his palm over it then down his pants. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re bleeding.”

He waved her off as he headed to her car. “It’s nothing.”

“Mike.” She grabbed his bicep, forcing him to turn to her so she could check out the cut. It really was nothing, and when she let go of him, he dragged his index finger across her jaw.

“You worried about me?” he asked, tweaking her nose. “That’s adorable.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get blood in my car.”

He tipped his head to the side. “You want to kiss it and make it better?”

She bit into the corner of her bottom lip. “Maybe.”

“Maybe we should hurry back, then.”

With their unspoken agreement, they both got in the car, flying back to Sam’s house. And it was a good thing, too, because her father was trying to climb the stairs.

“Dad! What are you doing?”

He slowly twisted to face Sam and Mike, caught red-handed. “I want to shower.”

“You shouldn’t be going upstairs. Especially by yourself.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but Sam barreled on. “And shower? Dad, you can’t stand in there on your own. Take a bath, if anything. Although, how you think you’re getting up there is—”

“I’ll help you,” Mike said, and Sam whipped her head to him. He offered her an unrepentant shrug. “I know how hard it is after surgery. You got a folding chair?” When Sam nodded, he pointed to the stairs. “I’ll help your dad up while you get the chair. We can stick it in the shower, so he can sit. Sound good to you, Phil?”

“Sounds great.”

Sam relented as her father grinned widely at Mike, patting him on the back like they were old buddies, then she went down to the basement to find one of the folding chairs. They were piled away against the wall behind an almost never been used stationary bike, a dented metal filing cabinet, and a few big boxes of wires and random electronics.

By the time she made it up to the second floor, Mike had her dad sitting on the closed toilet lid. She positioned the chair under the spray of the water and waited until it was a good temperature then pivoted back around.

“I can’t wait,” Phil said, staring into the shower like a man eyeing a feast after a famine.

“Do you need help getting out of your clothes?” Sam asked, but he shooed her away.

“I do not need my daughter looking after me while I shower.”

She held her hands up and stepped out of the bathroom, followed by Mike, who left the door slightly ajar. “I’ll stay out here and check on him in a few minutes. Make sure he’s all right.”

Sam couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. This sweet and thoughtful man. “You’re going to get so laid tonight.”

He kissed her neck. “Looking forward to it.”

Sam didn’t have to wait long. After Mike helped her father out of the shower and into fresh clothes, he took some pain medication and was out. Probably exhausted from overly exerting himself.

Mike held her hand, towing her out her back door and across their adjoining yards to his back door. When the door creaked open, his mom called out, “Michael, is that you? What were you doing so—” She stopped mid-stride into the kitchen when she spotted them. “Oh, hi, Samantha.” Her eyes drifted down to where their fingers were linked. “I didn’t realize you’d be coming over.”

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