Melt Your Heart
Just a fairly short update from me this time (this one is mostly filler as it doesn't move the plot along at all really, but it does give Cassie and Sam a chance to flirt, which is always fun), and I wanted to say thank you for your lovely comments, faves, support etc. It really does mean a lot.
Hope you had a great Christmas, and wishing you all the best for 2022!
Chapter 25: Sparkling Silver Lining
Sam Radford was in something of a quandary. In order to do something that he really wanted to do, he was going to have to see someone he really did want to see.
Namely, Ryan Elliott.
It was times like these that Sam really resented living in a town the size of a postage stamp. Back in New York, he would have had the choice of a dozen realtors in a one mile radius of his apartment building, but Middleton was not New York.
Most of the time he was grateful for that.
He'd briefly considered Blairsville, trying to decide which would be more painful: suffering Martha's wrath for deigning to purchase property in the neighbouring town or having to field a hundred and one questions from Ryan without punching him in his smug mouth.
He refused to let either of these potentially difficult situations take the shine off his plans.
With or without Cassie, he was ready to make some changes in his life, and to make preparations for the future.
By the end of his shift, Sam had managed, to his relief, to secure a meeting with Ryan's partner at the real estate agency for the following day, which coincided with his current shift pattern at Hillcrest.
Now that the appointment was written in his diary – scrawled in black ink – it started to feel real to him. He couldn't quite believe he was ready to turn his back on the career that had sustained him for decades. Somewhere between fear and excitement, Sam was ready to embrace the next chapter of his life. And it wasn't like he was hanging up his stethoscope and giving up his vocation for good. He would still be practising medicine, he just wouldn't be a surgeon any more.
He'd have regular hours, and a normal sleep schedule…whatever that was.
And if Cassie changed her mind and was ready to give them a second chance, well, he'd be around for dinner a lot more often.
It was with that thought that he strolled into the bathroom, razor in one hand and his towel folded over his arm. He wanted to look his best for his meeting with at the realtor's, wanted to look like the kind of person you'd want to rent a property to. In truth, he could afford to buy his own premises, he owned his house outright and lived quite frugally, but he had other plans for his hard-earned cash.
Sam was just running water for his shave when the pipes gave an ominous groan and the water shut off. With an ominous groan all of his own, he dropped his razor into the basin and knelt to assess the pipes. He was pretty handy, but anything involving running water or electricity was outside of his capabilities.
He muttered a string of curses, rubbing his hands over his unshaven face with a frustrated rasp.
He really didn't have time for a domestic emergency, especially not today. Adding "call a plumber" to his to-do list, Sam hung up his towel and went back into his bedroom to get dressed.
He hoped this wasn't a bad omen for his meeting.
Not that he believed in such things, of course.
On his way down Main Street, he did run into Abigail, which was fortuitous. Except she was bound to notice - and comment on - his unshaven appearance. He didn't have the mental capacity to verbally spar with her today, and he hoped that her uber perceptive powers of intuition would cut him some slack.
"Hey, everything alright?" she queried as their paths crossed just outside the flower shop.
"Not great," he admitted. "Something is wrong with my pipes; the water just shut off this morning. I called a plumber, but they can't come out until tomorrow afternoon."
"Ah, that explains the beard. And here was me thinking you were a regular Mr Fix-It," she teased him, briefly. "We've got plenty of rooms at the B&B, Sam, we'll put you up until it's all fixed."
"Are you sure?" he asked. He had already realised that was the obvious solution and, six months ago, he would have asked Abigail for that favour without a second thought.
But six months ago neither of them had met Cassie.
Ah, simpler times.
He wouldn't go back to them for all the yellow cake in the world.
"Of course I'm sure," she said, laughing as she poked at his forearm. "Come over when I'm on my lunch break, and we'll get you all settled in."
Sam was caught between relief and trepidation.
"Are you sure Cassie will be okay with it?"
Abigail shrugged her shoulders a touch theatrically.
"She'll have to be," she replied shortly, making Sam's eyebrows quirk with surprise. He wisely left that alone, thanked Abigail profusely, and dashed off for his meeting at the realtor's.
Cassie really should have noticed that there was another presence in the house. Another intimately familiar presence in the house, to be completely accurate. But with the B&B being moderately busy, she had grown used to sensing the presence of strangers at Grey House, and had elected to ignore them.
It was busy enough in her head without the added thoughts, worries, and emotions of people she didn't know.
So when she headed up the stairs to the master bathroom on the first floor, a stack of clean towels piled precariously in her arms, she was surprised to find the room was not empty.
She was vaguely aware that she shrieked a little, the top two towels losing their battle against gravity and toppling to the floor.
"Hey!" Sam greeted, equally surprised. He could tell instantly from the look on her face that Abigail had yet to tell Cassie about their arrangement.
"Sorry, I didn't know…didn't expect you to be…"
Shirtless.
This had to be some sick cosmic joke.
But no; her neighbour and ex whatever-they'd-been, was standing shirtless in their guest bathroom.
And he looked so good.
Damn him.
"Cassie?" he prompted, amused and a little concerned by the internal debate she seemed to be having with herself.
"You have tattoos," she said, hopelessly.
"Uh, yeah," he replied, bending so that he could retrieve the towels that Cassie had dropped and then subsequently forgotten about. He set them on top of the pile, and couldn't resist adding: "I guess you never did see me with my shirt off."
He watched with a modicum (okay, slightly more than that) of glee as the blush rose up Cassie's neck to paint her cheeks a flushed pink.
"No," she agreed, her voice a little breathy.
She knew it was impolite to stare but, well, who could blame her? And Sam had done nothing to preserve his modesty, even though his undershirt was right there next to him. She was glad of the towels though, it kept her hands busy when every remaining brain cell she had was crying out for her to touch him - to run her hands over the bronzed planes of his chest, through the faint smattering of golden hair on his chest that narrowed to a fine line that ran down his stomach and disappeared into the waistband of his pants.
He was still wearing pants, thank God for small mercies.
She needed to get out of here before she forgot all of the promises she'd made to herself. It would be so easy to let herself by held by those strong arms, to rest her head against his bare chest and just let someone else take the wheel for a little while.
Temptation shouldn't have to be so damn tempting, she thought bitterly.
"I'll come back later," she told him instead, reasserting her grip on the towels so she didn't repeat the previous incident. "Sorry for disturbing you."
Sam watched the change come over her and couldn't help but feel disappointed. Spending time with her was always wonderful, but it just reminded him that she wasn't his anymore. Not that she ever really had been, he was forced to admit.
But - and this with the sparkling silver lining - she was still attracted to him. You didn't need any kind of sixth sense to know that seeing him sans shirt had turned her on; he'd seen her eyes darken to an even richer chocolate brown and the pulse jackhammering away in her neck.
Whether or not she was ready to admit it, she wanted him.
And Sam would be ready and waiting when she finally - finally - figured it out.
Cassie muttered curses as she traipsed back down the stairs with her bundle of towels, but this time the only person she wanted to turn into a frog was herself.
How could she be so calm and capable when it came to adjusting to single parenthood, uprooting her life and moving across the country, starting her own business…but a run-in with one very gorgeous, very shirtless man could leave her a stuttering, blushing schoolgirl?
She was just grateful Abigail wasn't in the house when it happened.
Abigail.
Oh, Cassie was going to hex her so hard…
She took a breath, then another, and decided to make tea instead.
Abigail probably had just forgotten to tell that Sam was…what? Living with them now? Auditioning to be a shirtless handyman? She realised, belatedly, that she'd run out of the room before she'd actually found out why Sam was here, in their bathroom, without a shirt, in the middle of the day.
Oh God, he had tattoos.
Jake hadn't had any, hadn't liked them, and that was fine with Cassie - they wouldn't have suited him anyway.
But on Sam, they looked…
Damn it all, they just made him look sexier than he did normally, and Cassie's problem with their relationship (such as it had been) had never been because she didn't find him attractive.
And, clearly, she still did.
When the kettle started to whistle, she added two scoops of chamomile tea to the pot. If Sam was going to be staying here, under the same roof as her, she was going to need all the help she could get.
She just hoped her tea leaves were up to the challenge.