Page 45 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

She’s shy but polite when she meets everyone, smiling but not really joining in the conversation, although to be fair the conversation did go toward football and how I think we’ll fare in the game on Sunday now that Dante is back to a hundred percent.

Fortunately, there isn’t much time for small talk before the matches begin, and just as I was hoping they are very similar to WWE matches, with guys jumping onto each other from the top rope, diving out of the ring and taunting the guy inside, and smashing each other with chairs and other props.

Sam winces adorably and leans into my side each time the props are used, never having seen a match, and not fully understanding that it’s an act. I hate seeing her distressed, but I like how she keeps leaning into me so I can reassure her it’s just pretend. I’m not sure she’s convinced, but she loosens up enough that when one of the wrestlers encourages the crowd to chant his name, she joins in.

At one point, one of the wrestlers, the smallest from what I can tell, jumps out of the ring to avoid his much larger opponent. When the guy in the ring threatens to come after him, he runs straight for Sam, kneeling down at her feet and putting his head in her lap like a lost puppy.

Her whole body goes stiff and her eyes dart to mine, panicked, but when she sees me laughing hysterically she relaxes, and even pats the guy on the head to comfort him. That earns her cheers from the crowd and a little peck on the cheek from the wrestler, which makes her turn bright red.

At intermission, Sam and I make our exit, using Sunday’s game as an excuse to duck out early. I want nothing more than to take her home with me, more for the company than anything, but she’s got a fundraiser tomorrow, and Sawyer is coming over for the weekend. So, I drop her at her condo instead.

“Can I see you before I leave town?” I ask as we reach the front door. We’re traveling to New York on Wednesday, and if I can’t see her before we leave, it’ll be more than a week before I can see her again.

“I’m supposed to have dinner with my friend Delaney Tuesday.” She pulls at her lip. “Maybe after? Or, maybe…”

“Maybe what?” I brush a strand of hair away from her face.

She pulls at her lip again. “Maybe you want to meet her? Or is that weird?”

“Why would that be weird?” I let my hand linger, cupping the back of her neck.

“I don’t know. She kind of doesn’t approve.” She averts her eyes. “Of us. Maybe meeting her isn’t such a good idea.”

On some level, I knew my past would resurface eventually, but I was assuming that would come in the form of the press speculation, not speculation from someone Sam is close to. I’m not sure why I never considered that though.

Of course, anyone who cares about her would be concerned that she’s with me. Even though the press has exaggerated my former lifestyle, the fact that it’s rooted in some degree of truth was bound to worry her friends.

“Do you want her to approve?” I hold my breath. I don’t think Sam would base her feelings for me on what her friend thinks, but I don’t want the weight of her friend’s disapproval hanging over us, either.

“I want to give her the chance to,” she says softly.

“Then I’d be honored to meet your friend.” I brush my thumb over her lip before kissing her softly. “You tell me where and I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” She nods.

I give her another, deeper kiss and turn back to the car. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Have a good visit with your daughter,” she says in reply, and by the sweet smile on her face, I know she’s as hopeful for a good visit as I am.

Samantha

ColtandIarethe first to arrive, and the hostess leads us to the same table we shared during our first dinner together. He pulls out a chair and helps me sit, then takes the one next to me, resting his arm on the back of my chair so he can run his fingers along my arm.

It makes me confident his favorite steakhouse was the right choice for this dinner, because he doesn’t act as guarded here as he did at the food trucks.

“Tell me about your visit with Sawyer while we wait.” I lean into his touch. He didn’t get to finish the story when we spoke the other day.

“Well, you know she wasn’t all that keen on the game idea.” He spins the roll of silverware on the table with his free hand.

“Didn’t she ask if you got a concussion when you suggested it?” I smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

He leaves the silverware alone and rubs the bridge of his nose, grinning sheepishly. “She did, but she came around after I said I should’ve made a better effort to include her over the years instead of just assuming she wouldn’t want that.”

“You think she liked being at the game, then?”

“Not sure I’d go that far.” He shakes his head. “I think it helped that Wes, her future stepbrother, was there, because she had someone to hang out with. The game itself probably didn’t hold much interest for her, but I think she enjoyed the time at my house, though.”

“Yeah?” I raise my eyebrows, urging him to continue.

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