Page 38 of Ten Day Affair

Sam gives me a quiet smile. “What about you? What shaped you?”

I glance at the ocean, then back at her. “My family wasn’t like yours.”

“How so?”

“No legacy or soft landings. My dad bailed when I was a kid. My mom worked every shift she could. You've heard the story before.”

She doesn’t flinch. Just listens.

“I figured out early that nothing’s guaranteed. So I made my own safety net. That’s all.”

Her gaze holds mine. “That explains a lot.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Does it?”

“You like control. You get in, get out, keep your distance. It tracks. I don’t know you well, but I can see that about you.”

There’s a flicker of something behind her words. I think it’s understanding, not judgment.

We make it through a few small plates after that. There’s lighter conversation, some shared jokes, and an entire bottle of wine between us once I switched from my scotch.

Her laugh comes easily. It’s disarming.

Eventually, the server drops the check. I pay it without looking, and we slide out of the booth.

Sam tucks her hair behind one ear as we step into the elevator. The air between us shifts. Not awkward. Not quite charged. But something.

Outside, the night air brushes my skin, and city lights stretch down the avenue as cars pass in soft blurs. A neon sign casts a pale blue glow across Sam’s face, catching in her hair.

“Tonight was unexpected.”

“In a good way, I hope.”

“I’m still deciding. Kidding. I enjoyed it. Oh, there's my Uber. Thanks, again.”

She waves as she heads toward the car. I would have offered her a ride if I'd known she didn't drive. Damn.

The urge to grab her and pull her in nearly overrides common sense. I want her close, I want her mouth.

But the weight settles in my chest again. The board documents. Her mother’s name on those pages. The collision she doesn’t see coming.

“Goodnight, Cole,” she says as she climbs into the backseat.

Her voice is low and intimate. Her gaze lingers. It could be an invitation, or hesitation, or maybe even a warning. Hard to say for sure, but either way, it's not something I should follow.

I don’t move. “Goodnight, Sam.”

The taillights blur into traffic. I stand there, watching until I can’t tell her Toyota Camry from the rest.

NINE

Sam

I wrap my hands around the warm ceramic mug, letting the heat seep into my palms. The café smells like fresh pastries and coffee beans, a welcome distraction from my scattered thoughts.

I've got exactly twenty minutes before I have to be at the hospital. I have four surgeries today, which is both exciting and daunting.

Arden leans forward, elbows on the table, chin propped on her folded hands. Her grin spreads wider with every detail I reluctantly share.