Page 41 of For Sam


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Once again, he knows what I need and doesn’t hesitate to give me that. He’s so natural about everything, so at ease. I can easily lose myself in the possibility of this being life. Of a life shared with him.

Oh boy, I need to slow that train of thought down. He’s sweet, charming, understanding, and completely sexy, but that doesn’t mean this is a ’til-death-do-us-part thing.

Tommy hands me the notebook and reaches into his pocket for a pen. “Go on,” he says.

I enthusiastically uncap the pen, which is dark green, and start jotting down the basics. We’re going to need someone qualified, of course, and they’ll ideally live around here already. Someone both the farmers and ranchers feel they can trust.

“The buy-in could be per-acre for farmers and per-head for ranchers,” Tommy says, rubbing his chin. His knee touches mine and a wave of heat washes over me from simply thinking about what it felt like to make out with him. His hands, his weight, his lips.

Focus on getting the list down and out of your head, Samantha.

Although I sure wouldn’t mind if he kissed me breathless again before he leaves tonight.

We talk through a few more details that I jot down and transition into easy conversation while we eat our soup. Before long, he gathers the dishes and insists on handling them before we have dessert.

“I’ve already shown that I’m capable of handling dishes here, remember?”

“Yes, but I can stand now,” I say, fairly confident in the statement.

He leans over to kiss me. “Excellent. I’m still doing the cleanup.”

“Am I allowed to empty the hot water bottle?”

“Of course,” he replies, balancing the tray so he can offer me his hand. “I just get the kitchen tonight.”

“Deal,” I say, my fingers running over his palm before he helps me stand. He gives me a concerned look. “It’s not like I’m going for a run, I can handle this mission.”

This really is perfect. Any pressure on tonight was purely in my head. Tommy doesn’t have expectations, and there’s nothing to stress about. I don’t feel like I have to placate anyone when I’m with him.

This is definitely a new feeling. But it’s freeing to be fully seen just as I am, and I could get used to it.

By the time I freshened up, Tommy is closing the dishwasher. Even the pots are clean and put away. Who is this man?

“Are you ready for dessert?” he asks.

“There’s dessert?”

“Of course. Do you usually not get dessert on a date?”

“No I do. I’m just surprised since we’re just, you know, here.”

“This is our first date. We’re doing this right.” He winks at me. “Back to the couch with you, I’ll be right in.”

He moves around the kitchen, like he knows where everything is, which I guess he does by now. A warm feeling settles over me. Instead of the tray this time, Tommy walks over with two bowls in one hand and spoons in the other.

“More soup?” I ask.

“No,” Tommy says. “Chocolate oat milk ice cream.”

“Thank you,” I say, taking a bowl from him. “What are you having then?”

“The same.” He shrugs.

“You’re having non-dairy ice cream for your dessert on our first date.”

“Yeah,” he says like it’s normal.

“You are something else.”

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