5

What she surely thought was going to be yet another uneventful day at her shop, changes in an instant when the tall, dark and oh-so-handsome stranger walks through her shop door. Abigail takes a minute to take him in, surprised at the sudden unease that settles inside of her.

"Can I help you with something?" She questions, circling the counter.

The man turns to face her, fingering the tulips she has on display. "That depends."

She comes to stand beside him at the display. "On what, exactly?"

"How well you know your flowers," he smiles.

There's something disingenuous in his smile and Abigail smiles back, titling her head. "I don't think I have what it is you're looking for."

He looks to the tulips, plucking the petals from the nearest display. "You haven't even asked me what it is I'm looking for." He drops the petals on the floor, one by one, before turning his attention back to her.

She doesn't react, not giving him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her. "And what would that be?"

"It's sometimes called a Meridian."

The door opens behind him and she inwardly exhales as Sam walks in. "Sam," she greets, side stepping tall, dark and intimidating.

"Hey…I was hoping to get some flowers."

"You've come to the right place! What can I get for you?"

Sam gestures to the man behind her. "I can wait if you're busy."

She waves him off. "Not at all. I don't have what this customer is looking for."

"Which is unfortunate," he comments, making no attempt at hiding his contempt.

"I doubt that," Abigail fires back. "Meridian's are nothing more than weeds. I'm saving whoever she is from having to pretend she likes them."

Sam clears his throat beside her as he attempts to swallow his smile.

"There's a park around the corner; you may find some there," She adds sweetly.

He doesn't respond, making sure to brush past her as he heads for the door.

"Hey!" Sam calls after him.

"Let him go, Sam. I'm fine." She heads back to the counter, reaching for her broom and dust pan.

He takes them from her, sweeping up the petals on the floor. "Has he been in here before?"

She shakes her head. "I've never seen him before."

Dumping the petals into the trash, Sam returns the broom and pan behind the counter.

"You didn't have to do that."

"You should have had to put up with that."

She's all too familiar with men like him and their misogyny. "With any luck, that'll be the last I see of him. You said you were looking for flowers?" The empathy in his eyes threatens to chip at her resolve, and she doesn't want Sam to think she is anything but strong and capable.

His jaw jumps a minute, before acquiescing the subject change. "I wanted to send some to Cassie. She's at home a little under the weather today."

"Something to brighten her day?" She watches the smile tug at his mouth and she can't help the one that tugs at her own. Her cousin is a lucky women. Sam had been nothing but kind to her the moment she showed up in Middleton, and despite her best efforts to have him fall under her own charm, it was clear even then the chemistry he shared with Cassie.

"That would be great," he agrees.

She goes about putting together a bouquet. "So, you two finally came to your senses."

Sam lets out a chuckle, nodding his head. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"I was worried for a minute that you'd let John whisk Cassie off to the Maldives."

"I wasn't going to stop her if that's what she wanted."

"You were willing to let her go?"

"I wanted her to be happy, whatever that looked like."

She wraps the bouquet, coming from around the counter. "That's very chivalrous of you, Sam. I can't say I would have done the same."

He accepts the bouquet, looking it over. "Love has to be selfless sometimes. Thank you; they're beautiful."

Abigail smiles. "Consider them a gift."

Sam gives her a look. "You sure Cassie isn't rubbing off on you?" He teases.

"Goodbye, Sam!" she sings, heading out back.

"Goodbye, Abigail!"

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"Sam," she greets, a little surprised to see him standing on her front step. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was just on my lunch and decided to swing by and see how you're feeling, and to bring you these." He produces the bouquet of flowers from behind his back.

Smiling, she accepts them, stepping out of the doorway so that he can come in. "I'm feeling much better." She buries her noise in the bouquet, taking in their sweet smell. "They're beautiful, Sam. Thank you."

He follows her into the kitchen. "They pale in comparison."

She blushes a little, looking down. Sporting leggings, a t-shirt and a fuzzy pair of socks certainly isn't her most glamorous look, but she appreciates his words nonetheless. Setting the flowers on the counter, she turns to face him. "It's the fuzzy socks, huh?"

He lets out a chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "Definitely the socks."

She leans in, giving him a kiss. "Thank you," she murmurs against his lips.

"No thanks required."

He begins to pull back, only she frames her hands around his face, keeping him against her lips a minute longer. Grey House is quiet for a change and she doesn't want to pass up a rare moment alone. Slipping her hands under his jacket, she wraps her arms around his waist. His shirt is crisp, cool, against her bare arms and it gives way under her tentative hands.

His lips still a minute, only a minute, before his hand slides around the small of her back tugging her closer. His hand is an enticing weight she hasn't felt in a long time, one she didn't realize she yearned for.

He tastes of coffee and smells of antiseptic; everything that she realizes is distinctly Sam. She slides her hands slowly up the firm columns in his back just as his other hand sifts through her hair.

The sudden want, the desire that fills her is swift and overwhelming.

She's acutely aware of the way her body feels pressed to his and the warmth that's blossomed inside of her. He's a solid presence, one that reassures her and has her wanting to submit to it all at the same time.

It's unexpected.

She pulls back suddenly, almost breathless.

Confusion crosses Sam's face. "Are you ok?"

What started in the pit of her stomach permeates the rest of her body in a heady, unfamiliar warmth. "I'm fine," she reassures, but judging by the look in his eyes, he's not buying it. She gives him another quick kiss before sliding out of his embrace.

The flowers lay forgotten on the counter and she takes them to the sink, filing a vase with water. Her legs feel a little like jelly, and she exhales in an attempt to calm that warmth that has unexpectedly caused her heart to flip inside her chest. "How's your day going?" She can feel his eyes on her as she moves about the kitchen.

The few steps between them does nothing.

His touch lingers, tingles on her skin.

The water in the vase overflows and she turns off the tap quickly.

"Fantastic."

She smiles, the heat rising in her face. Pouring some of the water out of the vase, she takes it and the flowers, heading to the sun room. He follows, and she sits at the table returning to what she had been doing before he arrived.

"What's all this?" he questions, gesturing to the boxes and photo albums.

"The Merriwick women are being honour at this years historic Middleton exhibit at the museum."

"That's great!" He pulls up a chair beside her, looking into the nearest box.

"I pulled some things from the attic hoping to find items for the exhibit."

He takes a minute to flip through one of the photo albums. "These are incredible, Cassie."

She nods, looking at the photos too. "It's remarkable how well they've held up over the years."

"You should think about having these scanned."

"That's not a bad idea."

"I'm known to have a few of those now and then," he jokes. He places the album back on the table. "I have to head back to work…I'll see you later?"

"I'll be here."

Leaning in, he kisses her gently. "Feel better."

It's a fleeting touch, his lips against hers, and yet he manages to excite something inside her anyway, all over again.

. . . . . . . . . .

At first, she'll admit she was distracted by her phone and didn't notice. It isn't until she passes the post office does Grace register the man that's only a few steps behind her. She moves to the inside of the sidewalk, giving him room to pass her.

Only he doesn't.

Concentrating on her steps, she tries not to think too much about it. Downtown Middleton isn't very big and it may just be that they're both heading in the same direction.

This is Middleton, she tells herself.

She passes the library, and the local drugstore, the pizza place and the bank. He's still only a few steps behind her and the uneasiness settles inside of her. She dares a quick glance over her shoulder, and he's got his hands in his pockets, his stride almost purposeful as he follows behind her.

There's a cross walk up ahead, and if she times it right, he'll get caught in the light. Slowing her steps, she watches the timer at the cross walk as it counts the remaining seconds left. There's only 5 seconds left, and she breaks into a light jog determined to catch the last few seconds. Her feet hit the curb just as the light changes and the traffic is in motion again.

Across the street, he waits at the crosswalk.

Grace exhales, not waiting around for the light to change.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"Dr. Radford?"

Removing his glasses, he turns from his computer to Eve standing in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"I've got the hospital on line one-"

He shakes his head, returning to his computer. "-take a message, please-"

"-they said it was reallllllyyy important."

He smiles a little, turning around again. "Reallllllllyyy important?" He echos.

Eve smiles, nodding. "Something about the new hire in cardiology."

The hospital has been actively working to recruit a new cardiologist since he began his position as chief of staff. It has been the one thing on his year projection that is proving to be more difficult than he had anticipated. "Alright."

She closes the door behind her, and he accepts the blinking call on his phone. "Dr. Radford."

"Sam, I think we've got one! Top of her class, head of the department in Michigan. Published and on the up and coming in the field."

"What's the catch?" He questions.

"She's not sure Middleton is the right spot for her long term."

He leans back into his chair. He can certainly understand; he hadn't even heard of Middleton until an email from its mayor had showed up in his inbox. Leaving New York at the time had only been a consideration, but after looking up the small town, became more of a reality.

"How do we get her here?"

"We're flying her out at the end of the week, got a meeting set with the board, tour of the hospital-"

He shakes his head. "-that's not going to convince her to move here. She needs to see the town, meet the people-"

"-and who better to do that than you?"

Rubbing his face, he leans forward on his desk. "My schedule is packed."

"We need her here, Sam. Find the time."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Study hall.

The one block in his schedule that just doesn't make any sense to him. He doesn't study. At all. And why should he? Grace is a better teacher than most of his own and Nick knows if he had to put the fate of his history test on his own notes, he'd fail miserably.

The library is quiet for the most part, except for the hum of computers and the odd student typing away on their keyboard. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he opens up a new message to his dad.

What's for dinner?

His reply is immediate, a lull in his schedule no doubt. Uhhhhhhh…..pizza?

He's had pizza every night this week and normally he'd be alright with yet another solid choice of pep and cheese, but he's got another idea in mind.

Pass…. I was thinking that maybe we could order something and take it over to Grey House?

Grace had told him earlier in the day how her mom was home sick, and the last thing he'd want to do if he was sick would be to cook.

Chewing at his lip, he waits for his dad's response.

Ok, if he's completely honest, he wants to make sure Cassie is doing alright. Grace didn't seem all that worried but you learn a lot of things when your dad's a doctor; his mind had been racing all morning.

The three bubbles finally appear as his Dad replies back. Tai?

Is that Cassie's fav? He can practically hear the million and one questions, the look on his Dads face through the phone.

It is.

Tai it is then, he replies back. His Dad sends him back a thumbs up emoji, and he shakes his head, laughing a little, wondering when he figured out how to even find the emoji's on his phone.

. . . . . . . . . .

Grace swings open the door just as Nick is about to knock. His face twists into disbelief and she bites her lip trying to hide her laugh.

"You saw us coming," he deduces.

"What's in the bag?" She questions, trying to get a peak.

Nick pulls the bag back, away from her prying eyes. "Depends on whether or not you're going to let us in."

She looks between him and Sam, who has stayed surprisingly quiet. A pang of guilt niggles at her for how she left things the other morning with him. She catches his eye a for a brief minute before stepping out of the doorway. "It's Tai, right?"

Nick shakes his head, stepping inside. "How do you do that?!"

Sam steps inside behind his son, and she closes the door behind them. "It's my Mom's favourite, and some people pay attention to things like that."

Nick looks over at his Dad, who simply smiles, heading into the kitchen. "I pay attention to stuff!"

Sam's deep chuckle carries from the kitchen, and Grace can't help but laugh with him. "We'll give this one to your Dad." She follows Nick into the kitchen, going to the cupboards to gather some plates.

"Where's your Mom?" Sam questions.

"She was upstairs resting." Setting the plates on the island, she strums her fingers on the china in an attempt to reconcile her fears with the present, the future that she doesn't have any control over. "…do you maybe want to go see if she's up?"

Surprise crosses Sam's face as Nick stills, looking between the two of them.

"Are you sure?"

She nods. "Yeah."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

His feet carry him upstairs almost on autopilot, his mind still attempting to catch up with the curveball Grace had just pitched him. He had been practicing what he was going to say to her all afternoon, even wrote it down a few times, determined not to mess it all up again. He was going to apologize and explain how much he really cared for her mother and then end with how sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and hope that everything turns out alright.

It wasn't his most articulate speech, he'll admit, but it was all he could string together in between patients.

The olive branch she gave him downstairs is a tiny step, he knows, and he has a ways to go in reassuring Grace that this leap of faith is the right thing.

His feet come to a halt at the top of the stairs and it's then that he realizes that he's never been upstairs at Grey House. The den is off to his right and it's clear by it's darkness that it's empty. There's half a dozen rooms upstairs, all of which he quickly gathers are guests rooms by the numbers on each door.

At the end of the hallway is another staircase he had no idea even existed to the next level. Heading up yet another flight of stairs, he finds a handful of more rooms, most of which are situated at one end of the hall, with a single one at the other end. Quick reasoning has him knocking gently on the single door at the other end of the hall.

There's no answer, and he contemplates whether to let himself in, or head back downstairs. He knocks again, calling out to her. "Cassie?"

Still no answer.

Sighing, he twists the doorknob popping his head inside the room. The curtains aren't drawn and the last bit of sunlight filters across the room gently. Everything about the space reflects the woman that's sound asleep in the queen sized bed; elegant and warm with just a hint of mystery.

Closing the door behind him, his footsteps are lost among the plush carpet as he makes his way over to the bed. There's a book laying beside her, forgotten, and he sets it on the night stand as he sits carefully on the edge.

"Cassie?" He whispers gently. She doesn't stir, and he touches her shoulder, calling again. "Cassie."

Her brows knit together as she stirs. "Sam?"

"Yeah." He rubs up and down her arm as she rubs her eyes, yawning. "How are you feeling?"

She stills a minute, as if to take stock. Her eyes flutter open and a slow smile tugs at her lips. "Like myself."

That spark in her eyes, the one that he's sure will bring him to his knees someday, settles in his chest causing a warmth to slide over him. "Am I ever glad to hear that."

Sitting up, she settles mere inches from him. Her hair is a little tossed and he brushes it back from her eyes, his gaze dipping to her lips for a brief second.

"I had a really great doctor."

Her voice is still a little thick with sleep and the breathy way in which she speaks stirs something inside of him.

He wonders what it would be like to wake up next her, like this.

"Nick and I brought over some Tai." Her eyes light up and he chuckles. "I take it your appetite is back too."

"It is when you bring my favourite."

"It's ready whenever you are." He makes to get up, only she takes his hand tugging him back down in front of her.

"Not so fast." Leaning in, she presses her lips to his softly. Her hand comes to cup the back of his head and her fingers sift gently into his hair.

A shiver travels down his back and he stifles the moan that wants to travel up his throat. Something shifts between them. The air changes. Her lips hesitate for a second and he thinks for a minute to pull back, and then she's nudging his lips with her own and he welcomes the warmth of her mouth as it tentatively caresses his own.

Her hand slides out of his hair down his chest and when she pushes against him, he pulls back immediately. Her eyes reassure him that she's fine, and he relaxes a fraction. The emotions in her eyes are reminiscent of the look she gave him after their kiss earlier in the day, and he isn't any less concerned about what she's feeling right now.

"Cassie….I need you to talk to me, tell me what's going through that mysteriously gorgeous head of yours."

She smiles a little, shaking her head. "I'm sorry-"

"-you have nothing to be sorry for," he reassures.

She brushes her bangs out of her eyes, looking down. "….I haven't felt this way about someone in a very long time….I guess I'm a little out of practice."

He can tell that she's embarrassed and he reaches for her hand, interlacing their fingers. "That makes two of us."

She squeezes his hand before lifting her gaze to his.

He's sure to hold her gaze, let his own guard down to reflect the vulnerability that's looking back at him. "We can figure it out together."

She smiles, titling her head in that way. "I'd like that."

He kisses their joined hands, rising from the bed, tugging her with him. "You know what they say though?" She's still got her fuzzy socks on and it makes him smile.

"What's that?"

"Practice makes perfect."

Her smile widens as she steps into him, landing into his chest. "How much practice?"

"A lot. Definitely a lot."

She laughs, pressing her lips to his.

tbc

feedback most welcome :)