Читать книгу Truths I Learned From Sam 2-Book Bundle - Kristin Butcher - Страница 13

I have no memory of the drive back to Sam’s place. None. Lizzie takes us there all by herself — kind of like a homing pigeon. I certainly have nothing to do with it. My body may be in the truck, but my mind is on the bank of a sparkling stream, kissing the most awesome guy in the world.

“Thanks, Lizzie,” I murmur when we come to a stop and I pull the key out of the ignition. “I owe you.” Then I take a deep breath and try to clear my mind of Micah. It’s the last thing I want to do, but if Sam sees me with stars in my eyes, he’ll think I’ve been kicked in the head by a horse.

As soon as I shut the door and come around the truck, I see him. He’s sitting on the steps, exactly where I left him a few hours ago.

“Have you even moved?” I tease. My laugh comes easy.

He smiles, but there’s something missing, and suddenly, I don’t feel so lighthearted.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

Finally, his laugh-lines come out of hiding, and I relax. “Now that you’re back, it is,” he says.

This declaration touches me. “Aw, Sam.” I smile self-consciously. “You were worried about me.”

“And Lizzie.”

I sigh. So much for sentimentality. “Well, as you can see, we’re both fine,” I tell him. Then I ask, “What’s our lunch plan?”

“I thought we’d eat light today,” he says. “Maybe just a sandwich. That should hold us until tonight’s potluck supper at the community centre.”

Baby butterflies take flight in my stomach. Micah brought up the potluck during our trail ride, but I hadn’t known a thing about it. Since Sam had never mentioned it, I’d figured it wasn’t on his social calendar. And that meant I was going to have to talk him into going.

But apparently not.

I flop down on the step and give Sam’s arm a big squeeze.

He looks at me sideways. “What’s that for?”

“I’m just happy.” I hug his arm again. “I’ve never been to a potluck. It sounds like fun.”

“Is that right?” he says, still eying me sideways. “In all my life, I have never — not even once — seen a person of the female persuasion get moonstruck over chicken pot pie and macaroni salad. Is there something you aren’t telling me, girl?”

Ba-boom! That brings me back to earth in a hurry. For a guy who’s never been married, Sam is awfully good at reading women, and at the moment I have no desire to be read. My feelings about Micah are too hard to hide and too new to share. I cluck my tongue and stand up. “Isn’t it obvious? We need to get cooking. So come on.” I put out my hand to help him up. “The potluck is only a few hours away and we haven’t even figured out what we’re taking yet.”

———

Though I mostly packed jeans and T-shirts for my Webb’s River adventure, I did stuff a fun little summer dress and a pair of strappy sandals into my suitcase too, just in case. In case of what, I had no idea, but as I get ready for the potluck, I’m glad to have these girl things. Jeans and cowboy boots are fine for every day, but tonight I want to look and feel special.

I shower until the water runs cold. Then I wrap a towel around my hair and another around my body. The air is thick with steam — there’s no bathroom fan — so I open the little window above the toilet and watch the puffy clouds of condensation push their way outside. I wipe the foggy mirror clear with a towel.

After drying myself, I slather cream over my body and then start on my makeup. Green shadow accentuates the colour of my eyes, and mascara fattens my lashes. No need for blusher; the sun has bronzed my skin and the emotional high I’m on has pinked my cheeks. Instead of pulling my hair back into its usual ponytail, I blow it dry and let the soft, shiny waves fall onto my shoulders. I even put on earrings, gold hoops Mom gave me for my birthday. I check myself out in the mirror — from the shoulders up, anyway. I’m ready.

Sam is pacing the living room. When he sees me, he stops.

“It’s about time!” he growls. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d drowned in there.” Then his expression softens. So does his voice. “You look very pretty.”

“Thank you.” I smile. This is a good start. I just hope Micah shares Sam’s opinion. “You look good too,” I tell Sam. “Very handsome. You have that Johnny Cash look.”

“Too much, you think?” he says as he slides the brim of his black hat through his fingers and looks down at his black shirt, black jeans, and black boots. “Maybe I should wear a different shirt — something brighter.”

“Absolutely not.” I shake my head and make a quick 360-degree inspection. I pick a piece of lint off his shoulder and smooth away a crease in his collar. “You’re perfect just the way you are. And your string tie is gorgeous. That big turquoise stone is all the colour you need.”

Sam beams. “You like it?”

I nod. “I do. A lot, actually. Mom has one that’s almost identical.”

Sam’s face brightens even more. “You don’t say.”

I nod. “Yeah — except hers is a pendant on a silver chain. What a coincidence, huh?”

He shakes his head. “Not really, considering I gave it to her. I found those stones at a street market in New Mexico when I was there for a rodeo — years back before you were born. I had one made into a necklace for your mom and the other into a necktie for me.”

“That’s cool,” I say. “Especially since you both still have them. Mom never wears hers, though. She just keeps it in her jewellery cabinet.”

Sam fingers the turquoise at his throat. “Well, that was a long time ago. Until today, I haven’t worn mine either.”

———

The potluck supper is a blast. There are so many people! When Sam and I arrive at six o’clock, the only faces I recognize are ones from the ranch and, of course, Kathy Ann from the motel. But by the time the night is over, it’s like I’ve lived in Webb’s River my entire life. Everyone feels like family.