Page 36 of A Heart On A Sleeve

twenty-one

Olive

An Indecent Pumpkin Seed

“Not again. I swear this woman is relentless,” I whine to Ariella while my phone rings again on the dresser. Part of me does miss my mom, but I also don’t want to deal with what she will undoubtedly say if I pick up.

“She’s still calling?” Ariella looks unamused by my mother’s attempts to get in touch with me.

“She probably just wants to scold me for throwing her out of my house or tell me how Ted is moving on.” I toss the third shirt I’ve tried into the growing heap on the chair in my room.

“Who’s Ted?” Of course that makes her perk up.

“Theodore, but Sam sarcastically called him that and it feels kind of fitting,” I say, explaining the new nickname for the one person my mother has always seen as my future husband.

Theodore and I grew up together. Anne has always had her heart set on a lavish wedding with me in a poofy dress and my bank account with an extra four zeroes.

But Ted is gross. He thinks he’s a gift to women everywhere with his slicked-back hair and grabby fingers.

“Ugh, that guy. Yuck. Ted is a perfect name for him. Can you pick a shirt already? I need to get out of here or Sam is going to accuse me of cock-blocking him again.”

“No, he won’t. But what do you wear to carve pumpkins? I don’t know what’s expected.”

“Just wear the cream sweater. It covers your arm. Wait . . . how are you going to scoop the guts?”

“What do you mean?” I ask her, honestly not picking up what she’s getting at.

“You have to stick your arm inside the pumpkin. Most people would roll up their sleeves.” Her eyebrows shoot into her hairline like she can’t believe she’s having to explain this to me.

“How far? Maybe I can go like this deep?” I point to just above my wrist where the pumpkin vines stop.

Not much has changed on my arm since the other night with Sam.

There’s a small firework bursting off of the vine just below the crease of my elbow, but other than that, it’s stayed consistent.

Well, except for the eye rolls that appear when Beau is driving me nuts or the dancing coffee cups when I drink my daily cup.

“Maybe just have Sam do it for you?” Ari asks as she grabs her phone and jacket to head out of my room. “I’m gonna go, but text me later to tell me how it goes.”

“Okay, bye. Thanks for not helping even a little,” I chide her. But in reality, I’m glad she came over.

After Ari leaves my house, I slump onto the bed.

I’m tired of having to hide, but also scared that this is giving too much away.

Sam made a comment about wanting a cheat code, and he actually has it.

I sit wondering if I’ll ever be able to trust that what’s between us is real.

It feels real in my heart, but my stupid head always has to come to the party with logic.

The sound of the door being rapped echoes through the cottage. Without thinking, I hurry to open it and am greeted with a very handsome and a slightly mischievous-looking Sam.

“I’m sure Max would be happy if you show up like that, but Mabel won’t be when I hit him for ogling you,” he says, a grin ghosting his full lips as he drinks me in.

“Huh . . . ?” I start to ask, but then remember I only have on a pair of fitted jeans and a bra. “Oh, yeah. I’m sorry, I can’t find anything to wear.” I grab his hand and pull him inside, closing the door behind him.

Sam pulls me into a hug and presses a tender kiss to my neck.

Being in his arms is incredible. It’s like being tucked into a big, strong, safe cocoon where nothing in the world can hurt me.

I peer up into his eyes, standing on my tiptoes to sneak a kiss.

It was meant to be quick, but a single flick of his tongue and the next thing I know, my back is hitting the door as I wrap my legs around his waist. We taste and explore each other while his fingers press into my thighs and I grind against him.

After who knows how long, Sam breaks the kiss, opting to nuzzle my neck. “God, you’re so beautiful. I could stay here all day, but my mom will actually hunt us both down if we don’t get a move on.”

“Right, okay. Yeah. What should I wear? I can’t . . . I can’t show my arm, but long sleeves will get ruined from the guts, I think .” I know there’s hesitation in my voice.

Sam glances at my arm at the exact same time I do. Pumpkins roll down the vines with giant red X’s through them. “You think? Have you ever carved a pumpkin?” Sam asks, leveling me with a look of curiosity.

“Uh, yeah, sure I have. I mean, who hasn’t? Of course, it’s just that—”

“You haven’t. I can tell, remember?” Sam interrupts me, pointing to my arm. The traitorous little thing has cartoon Pinocchios slipping down the vines. I hate this stupid curse.

“Okay, fine. I’ve never carved a pumpkin. My mother always said it was too messy. I begged but she wouldn’t ever let me do it.” I wiggle out of his grip and walk toward my bedroom, needing some space for my embarrassment.

Instead of giving it to me, Sam walks up behind me and wraps me in a bear hug. “It’s a little sad, but I’m actually kind of glad you’re a virgin,” he whispers in my ear.

“What? I’m not,” I say, spinning in his arms to face him.

“You’re a pumpkin virgin. I get to show you the ropes.” Sam chuckles, kisses the top of my head, then smacks my ass. “Now get a move on. I’ll pull the guts out for you, so just wear whatever.”

I do as he commands and grab a green cable-knit sweater, pulling it over my head. “Okay, I’m ready.”

We head out as I slide into a pair of flats near the door.

I grab a pumpkin from the porch that won’t be noticeably missing and hop into Sam’s truck.

On the ride to Mabel’s, Sam fills me in on his clients from the week, and I tell him the latest reason Beau got mad at me.

Spoiler alert: I referred to his feline friend as Pickles instead of Mr. Pickles when he brought him in for a visit.

There’s something strange about that cat.

I can tell he’s an old soul, or maybe otherworldly.

What kind of cat prefers eating radishes and cucumbers over tuna?

I asked Beau that very question, and I swear the cat gave me a judgmental look—I was eating a greasy slice of pizza at the time.

Gravel crunches under the tires a few minutes later as we pull into the driveway.

A wave of nerves hits my belly unexpectedly.

I’ve been here before—heck, I’ve already been to family dinner.

But things were different then. For starters, Sam had never given me an orgasm.

Ugh, why am I thinking about Sam’s . . .

thing, when I’m about to walk into his mother’s house?

“Everything okay over there?” Sam eyes me suspiciously.

“Yep, fine. I’m good,” I say, attempting to cool the redness in my face through sheer force of determination.

“You’re blushing. What are you thinking about?” He pokes my side, tickling me just a little.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I think I do.” Sam unbuckles and slides across the bench seat, placing small kisses on my neck.

“Nope, I have to face your mother. If she’s spying out the window, which we both know she is, I will never be able to go in after she sees us kissing.

” I shove him off gently, unbuckle my seat belt, and hop out of the truck.

It doesn’t take long for Sam to exit the vehicle, grab my pumpkin from the bed, then give me a stern look as he stalks toward me.

“I always open the door for you, babe,” he growls quietly in my ear.

“Not necessary, as I’ve told you, many times.” I wave him off and begin making my way to the porch. As I take the top step, Sam is nipping at my heels. He places his free hand around my waist, halting my trek.

“Do you want to give Mabel a reason to meddle?” he asks, lips grazing the shell of my ear.

“N-no, thank you,” I whisper, breathlessly. My body is heating up from his closeness. If we don’t get in this house soon, we’ll never make it inside.

“Then please just let me be a gentleman. I like opening doors for you. Chivalry and all.” Sam moves around me, grasping the door handle and pushing his way inside, only to glance back at me and wink. Holy hell! I’m pretty sure my panties just melted off.

“ Ma! We’re here,” Sam shouts.

“In the kitchen, come on in,” Mabel replies.

It smells amazing in his parents’ home. Scents of cinnamon and nutmeg waft in the air mixed with something a bit more rustic.

Maybe cedar or spruce. The house itself is pretty large, but the small cozy rooms of the historic place warm my heart.

I can picture Sam and his siblings dawdling down the halls as babies.

Sam and I walk into the kitchen where Nora, her boyfriend Charlie, and Max are hanging out with Sam’s parents. They each have an apple cider in their hands, and the rosiness of their cheeks clues me in that maybe it’s paired with something stronger.

“Would you two like some cider?” Mabel asks, already ladling two mugs full.

“Yes, please. It’s nice to see you again,” I say, reaching out to give her a small hug and handing her the bottle of cabernet Sam said she loves most.

“Oh, you too, Olive. This is so kind. I’m so glad you came to carve pumpkins with us.

Although I should warn you, it gets a little competitive.

” Mabel hands me a mug of steamy cider as I glare at Sam.

How could he not have warned me? I’m not experienced at this.

I’m definitely going to make a fool of myself.

“Actually, Ma . . . It’s Olive’s first time. I thought we’d maybe dial down the competition this year,” Sam says. I know he’s not doing it to embarrass me, but I am embarrassed anyway.

“Oh, uh, okay. Well, Olive, how would you feel about being the judge?” Mabel looks at me, a hint of curiosity and pity mixed in her expression.

“Yes! Let me do that. Oh, and congratulations all, Sam is going to lose this year,” I remark, while elbowing him in the ribs lightly.