Disclaimer - This is based off of the Twilight Saga by Stephenie Meyer. She created the characters and the basic plot, and this is my spin on it. These are my words about her world. Stephenie Meyer has all of the rights to her characters and the parts that were taken from her plot.

Chapter Four

It was raining, as usual. Bella wasn't surprised. But settling deep in her chest was another feeling. She wasn't her usual restless, anxious self. Her entire body was calm, relaxed. She actually felt as though she would sleep through the whole night instead of tossing and turning.

Bella sat staring out of her bedroom window. She caught sight of two raindrops descending and watched them race. She bet that the raindrop on the right would make it to the window seal first but at the last moment the one on the left surged forward and took the win.

Bella shook her head at herself. She felt like a child again. She felt spontaneous and silly and . . . giddy. And she knew it was because of him. Of Sam.

She could still feel his hand under her chin, tilting her head up so she would meet his eyes. Bella would never admit it to anyone but herself, but she'd been – dare she think it? – turned on by his domineering side. His asserting of his authority over Jacob and the others had made him even more attractive to her, and Bella both loved and hated it.

She wanted to love someone. But that someone couldn't be just anyone. He had to be special – he had to be the right man. Her missing piece. The one who made her feel whole. How many movies had she seen that stared beautiful actresses with handsome actors to fall in love with? She wanted to be as happy as those characters seemed.

But those characters didn't always get their happy endings, and that was the part that scared Bella. She was terrified to open her heart and watch it be stomped on by a man she cared about. Could she open her heart to Sam? Could he be trusted? Would a relationship between the two of them even last?

Bella sighed. She'd been tossing this around in her head for half an hour while she should have been starting dinner. Charlie would be home soon and he would be hungry. Actually, she was getting hungry, too. She stretched her legs out and rubbed them back and forth against the carpet. Her eyes were drawn back to the window. She squinted through the fuzziness of the rain, watching the trees as they swayed back and forth with the wind. She felt a deeper connection with the wilderness – with the forest and the dirt and the trees and the animals. Knowing her home was surrounded by forestry made Bella feel oddly safe and protected. It was a feeling she'd never felt before but certainly wasn't complaining about. She just wished she had an explanation for it.

Deciding she'd sat and stared outside long enough for one day, she heaved herself up onto her feet and bounced carefully down the stairs to the kitchen. She quickly went to work, preheating the oven for the chicken and searching the pantry for some kind of vegetable to pair it with. While the food was heating and cooking and simmering, she set the table and made sure there were at two beers in the fridge for Charlie to have – one with dinner and one with the evening baseball game. She also sat an empty glass by his regular, worn-out chair because he sometimes opted for water or soda with his meal instead. Bella had everything down to a science; it was a process that worked perfectly and got the job done. Perfectly predictable and functioning – just the way she liked it.

And then there was a knock at the door, and Bella was thrown for a loop. A visitor ten minutes before dinner would be ready was definitely not a part of the perfectly functioning process.

Who on earth would be knocking on someone's door at this time of the evening? Not only was it dinner time, but the sun was slowly setting and the sky was darkening. The daylight was dim and it was only six thirty. The darkness setting in so early in the summer time meant they would be getting another horrid storm this evening. Perhaps Bella wouldn't be sleeping as soundly as she'd thought.

Bella peaked through the small blind that covered the window of the front door and gasped. Tan, muscled arms were folded over a faded brown T-shirt that no doubt covered up tense, tight shoulder blades and a solid six pack. Bella didn't even have to look up at his face to know it was Sam Uley. But the thing that scared her most was that she'd expected it was him before she'd even left her kitchen. She swallowed and ran a hand through her hair and licked her lips instinctively. She turned the knob with anxious, shaking fingers. And then they were standing face-to-face.

Had it really only been two days since they'd last seen each other? It had felt like a lifetime. And by the way Sam's eyes were synchronizing Bella, drinking the sight of her in, he felt the same way.

He spoke first – which was good because Bella would have stood there and stared at him until Charlie got home. "Bella."

A man of few words. She sucked in a deep breath. "Sam," she whispered. She couldn't find her voice anywhere in her body. Actually, she couldn't find her brain. Form words. Oh my Gosh form words. Say something, anything other than his name or your name!

"Forgive me for intruding," he finally continued. "I know you're probably busy but . . ." His eyes flickered around and his jaw tensed. "I just – um, wanted to see you."

"Why?" She hadn't meant for it to sound as blunt and rude as it did, but she'd blurted it out without thinking and she couldn't take it back.

He blinked. Was he nervous? Was his heart beating as quickly as Bella's was? "I know Chief Swan works long hours during the week," he explained, "and I just wanted to make sure you're okay on your own. Forks is a quiet place, but . . . things happen."

Bella knew she should have been offended at his assuming she couldn't take care of herself. She didn't need him to come and check up on her. And if she were speaking to any other guy – say, Jacob for example – she would have said so, and she probably would have stomped loudly as she scolded him. But Sam was not Jacob, and something about Sam's protective nature warmed Bella's heart instead of angering her. She was more annoyed with herself for feeling this way than she was at Sam's assumption that she was weak and defenseless. "Oh," she breathed. "That's . . . very nice of you. To think of me."

He clear brown eyes stared right into hers. "That's all I ever do, Bella."

Bella felt lightheaded all of a sudden. He was just so intense – so serious. She'd only just met him, but he was making admissions that shocked her to her core. Part of her hoped she'd just imagined his words, but another part did not. It was romantic. And Bella was frightened by the desire to keep him there that swirled up in her. She couldn't bear the thought of him turning and walking away, so before she could give it a second thought, she opened her mouth and exclaimed, "Stay for dinner?"

Sam's eyes widened. He hadn't expected that. "Yes. I would love to."

There it was. Simple. Easy. Exactly what Bella wanted.

She just wished it hadn't been so unexpected.

Behind her, she heard the kitchen phone ring, but her feet wouldn't move. She was frozen in place. Then Sam's eyes lifted from hers and flickered inside. Bella jolted and realized if he was really staying for dinner she would need to invite him in. "Oh, um – come in. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes." She stepped aside and opened the door much wider so he had a hope of entering without smacking his shoulders on the doorframe.

He took in a deep breath as soon as he marched inside. His hands fell to his sides and he lifted his chin high. With absolutely no direction at all, he strode confidently to the kitchen.

Bella closed the door behind her and followed. She reentered the kitchen just as the timer on the oven sounded. She felt Sam's eyes on her as she slipped on the oven mitts and opened the door. A blast of heat blew up onto her face and she blinked against it. She plopped the pan down onto the stove and turned.

And her stomach about fell onto the floor.

Sam had taken a seat at the table. And naturally, he'd chosen one of the seats that had a plate and silverware already set up. And of course – because irony was Bella's enemy – he'd chosen Charlie's seat.

Oh my gosh. She felt her heart hammering in her chest. She'd forgotten about Charlie completely. It was Sam Uley's presence – it took away her ability to think coherently. How am I going to explain him to Charlie?

"Um – that's my dad's chair," she said. "Let me get you a plate." It would be one thing when Charlie came home and found a man he'd probably only ever spoken ten words to sitting in his kitchen. It would be another thing entirely if he were sitting in his usual seat.

Sam stood silently and moved to take a seat in the next chair over. When Bella leaned over to sit a clean plate and silverware in front of him, her hair brushed against his shoulder. He turned his head, allowing his nose to brush against Bella's cheek. It was an intimate gesture that sent Bella's heart into a frantic rhythm and sent a blush surging to the surface of her cheeks.

And then the lights of Charlie's police car flashed through the window and Bella startled. She straightened and stumbled backwards, bracing her hands behind her against the counter. Sam watched her carefully, curiously, wondering at her reaction. Oh, no. Did he think she'd backed away from him because she didn't like him? Because she didn't feel anything for him? Surely he realized she'd only moved away because her father was home.

A car door slammed outside and Sam's head snapped towards the front door, as if he'd only just realized Charlie had arrived. His nicely toned shoulders tensed.

With the window above the sink open, Bella could hear Charlie's keys jingling as he unlocked the front door. A thought popped into Bella's head. She hadn't noticed before if a car other than her red, rusted truck sat outside. Charlie had pulled into the driveway without a moment of hesitation or a single problem. Had Sam not driven a car here? Surely no man could walk from La Push to Forks and not be exhausted upon arrival. Bella sneaked a peek at Sam out of the corner of her eye and found him watching her, too. Always watching her. He didn't look exhausted. Actually, he didn't even appear to be tired. He wore tennis shoes, though. Shoes made for hiking. Perhaps he had walked all the way there.

Needing to distract herself from Sam's gaze and Charlie's ever-nearing footsteps, she turned her back and focused on the stove. She turned down the heat setting of the burner that was heating up the green beans and stirred them, dropping a little butter onto them for flavor.

Charlie opened the front door and closed it behind him. His belt rattled as he unbuckled it and hung it on the hook on the wall. Bella sighed in relief. Thank God. If this ends badly, Sam will have a chance to escape before he can get to his gun.

"Hey, Bells," he called loudly, assuming she was upstairs because she hadn't called out her usual greeting. "What's for dinner?"

She cleared her throat. "I made that chicken I got at the store on Sunday," she answered. "And green beans to go with it. Do you want a salad?" She turned and looked at her unexpected house guest to let him know the question was extended to him as well.

Sam nodded.

Charlie rounded the corner.

Bella swallowed.

"Do we have ranch dressing?" Charlie asked. His eyes were on his cell phone. "If we do, I'll have one. If not, I'll get some tomorrow and we can –" He looked up, saw Sam, and froze.

Sam stood and extended his hand politely. "Chief Swan," he greeted.

Charlie stepped to shake his hand. His eyes were wide with shock. "Sam Uley," he muttered. "No offense, but this is kind of the last place I'd expect to see you." Translation: What the hell are you doing alone with my daughter in my house at dinner time?

Sam gave the most dazzling smile Bella had ever seen. "I just stopped by to say hello, and Bella was kind enough to offer to feed me."

Charlie stared at him pensively, unsure what to make of this situation. He glanced at Bella, and for the brief second their eyes met, he asked her a thousand questions. "Well, she certainly makes enough food to feed an army. Welcome." It was half-hearted, but polite. He sat his phone down on the kitchen table and picked up his glass. When he went over to the fridge to fill it with iced water, Bella could breathe again. That meant Charlie had decided to not make a big deal out of this – at least, not until Sam was gone and he could demand answers from his daughter.

Bella swallowed. "Sam, would you like something to drink?" She still couldn't believe he was actually sitting in her kitchen.

He nodded. "Yes. Anything is fine."

"We've got beer," Charlie offered.

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That would be great."

Charlie surprised Bella by opening the fridge and getting it for him. He was being extremely calm about this. Bella knew she was in for an awkward interview later.

She turned back to the chicken and began cutting it, trying to hide the blush that had settled on her cheeks. She heard the beer can pop open and pictured him bringing it up to his lips.

His lips . . .

Bella shook her head of the image.

"So, Sam," Charlie began conversationally. "How long have you and Bella been friends?"

Bella coughed. Of course Charlie would find a way to make this even more awkward than it already was. Bella and Sam weren't friends at all. She could count on one hand the number of sentences they'd spoken to each other.

Sam cleared his throat and Bella turned to watch him. "We met through Jacob at the beginning of the summer." The way he said it made it sound like that had been weeks ago – but really it had only been, what – about two weeks?

Charlie nodded in acceptance. "Jake's a good kid."

Sam grinned a little. "Yes, he is. All of them are." Both Bella and Charlie knew he was referring to the rest of the boys in the group. "They have their troubles – but everyone does." Was he speaking of Jacob and the others . . . or himself? Perhaps he's aware that his reputation has preceded him and is trying to defend himself in Charlie's eyes. If he knew everyone thought he was leading a gang, why wouldn't he correct them? Or, if they really were a gang, why wouldn't he at least try to convince them they weren't? It didn't make sense.

"Sam and Jake are a lot alike," Bella added. The judgmental look in Charlie's eyes was irritating her, but she had no idea why she wanted so much for her father to accept a man she barely knew. As she waited for the seasoning to settle into the chicken, she went to check on the dressing situation. They did, indeed, have ranch dressing, and she pulled it out along with the cheese and lettuce. Then she paused and looked over to their guest. "What kind of dressing do you want on your salad?"

Sam sat up straighter and leaned his elbows onto the table. "The ranch is fine."

Charlie cleared his throat. "Well, I'm gonna run up to the bathroom. Which is right upstairs. Right around the corner here. Not very far away at all. Perfectly within hearing distance. And I'll be back very soon." He stood very slowly, narrowing his eyes between Bella and Sam as they watched him. Sam was amused; Bella was embarrassed and turning pinker by the second.

They both listened silently as he climbed the creaky stairs, letting out a lazy groan of complaint when he got tired halfway up. Then Bella went up on tiptoe and reached for the salad bowls, which had somehow ended up on the top shelf of one of the cabinets above the counter. She stretched as far as she could, but the bowls were still a few inches out of her reach.

And then suddenly there was a deep warmth behind her body. A calloused hand shot up to grab the bowls and place them on the counter where she could easily reach them. His chest brushed against her back and sparks shot through her body. She could smell his spicy, aromatic scent surrounding her and caught herself wishing they could stay that way forever. She tilted her head back so she could look at him and found him leaning down towards her. Their noses brushed; she could feel his deep, even exhales against her dry lips. Four centimeters separated them from the steamiest first kiss Bella could possibly imagine. His long fingers wrapped around her waist in an intimate embrace. She didn't know how long they stood there, just watching each other, Sam inhaling deeply.

But Charlie was just upstairs and would be returning any minute, and Bella had barely known this man for two weeks. She wasn't about to kiss him without even knowing his middle name. She needed to make sure he knew he would have to work hard if he wanted a relationship with her.

She didn't know how long they stood there, just watching each other, Sam inhaling deeply. Oh, she could feel the heat radiating off of his skin! How had she not noticed that before? He had to be running a temperature. She pulled her head back slightly, trying to clear her head. "Are you feeling alright?" she whispered.

He leaned his other hand, the one that was not caressing her hip, to rest it on the counter behind her. A button on Bella's jeans got caught on the handle of a drawer as she shifted her weight but she ignored it. "I'm great," he answered softly. His eyes were on her lips and she wished with all her heart she could read his mind.

Bella wasn't convinced. "Are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely fine," he assured her. "I have a naturally high temperature. It's not something to worry about." Then he released her and stepped away, settling back into his seat just as Charlie stuck his head around the corner. Bella spun around and stirred the green beans, trying to get the blush to leave her cheeks before Charlie called attention to it.

The kitchen was silent for a few minutes before Bella announced, "Okay, dinner is ready. Let's eat."

This scene will be continued in the next chapter. I have to say, this chapter has been my favorite to write so far. Thank you for reading. Please leave me a review and tell me what you thought - predictions, comments, etc.

See you in Chapter Five.