of the other working men in the diner. If anything, he looks like he just leapt off the page of a Playgirl calendar. Even with that grease smudge on his chin.
My hand reacts before my brain can stop it, tucking a chunk of hair behind my ear. “Hey, hi, hello, nice to see you,” I stammer. What am I, a Von Trapp?
“Nice to see you too.” He chuckles. “When I came in and spotted you between two roughnecks, I thought I was going to have to start another bar fight.” His smile is so playful, it makes me a feel a little silly for getting so worked up.
“Yeah, you do have a tendency to sneak up on me at the worst possible moments.”
“I’d call them…opportunities,” he says, biting down on his full bottom lip.
Embarrassed, I turn my eyes down and focus instead on his forearm. His arms are incredibly strong looking. Where Tim’s were sleek and toned from yoga and P90-X, Sam’s arms are thick and muscled. Presumably this is from lifting cars off babies and stopping out-of-control trains before they run off their tracks. His hands are big and, unlike the man to my right, they’re clean and well cared for. Looking at them now, I can’t help but remember what those hands felt like on my back, steering me away from trouble and into the safety of his company. I try to remain still, but a shiver runs through me.
“So, do you come here often?” I ask, dragging my eyes back to his face and trying to fill the silence between us.
“A few times a week, when the day allows it. You?”
“Once in a while. I just work right down the street, but you know that already…”
Sam leans forward a bit, smiling at me. “I do.”
“It’s funny,” I say, trying to break up the ever present tension between us. “We work so close to each other, but we never met before a couple of weeks ago.”
“Well, we might not have met before, but I’ve seen you around,” Sam says, flashing his dimple at me.
“You have? Where?” I ask, surprised.
“Here and there. It’s a small town, Ellie. When you see a beautiful woman walking down the street, you take notice.”
My belly jumps and I place a hand over it, not sure whether I feel nervous or excited or maybe a little of both. I can’t stop the smile or the warm blush from spreading across my face. “Thank you, that’s really nice of you.”
“I don’t know about nice. Honest would’ve been the word I chose. You’ve got this pink dress, sort of a deep-pink color.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“First time I saw you, you were wearing that dress, and I mean really wearing it. You were out in the park over off Monroe Street, talking with some guy in a fancy suit.”
I remember that day. I’d planned an afternoon picnic for Tim and me, and he’d been forty-five minutes late. I was packing up when he finally arrived, the chilled wine I brought ruined from the heat of the day. We had an epic fight right there in the middle of the park.
I look away from Sam, trying to hide the hurt I feel at the memory of that day. “It was my ex. We were fighting,” I explain, embarrassed.
“I was on my bike at the stoplight, and I noticed you.”
“Well, then, you must’ve been witness to quite a sight. I’m pretty sure I was completely disheveled and sweating through my dress by then. I was so mad at him.”
“I don’t remember any of that. I just remember you, you and that dress. I thought you were about the sexiest, liveliest woman I’d seen in a long time.” Sam’s eyes drop from my face to run lazily over my body, openly undressing me at the diner’s counter.
“I wasn’t feeling very lively or sexy that day,” I say, shifting on my stool under the heat of his gaze.
“You were, and if I’d been standing out there with you instead of your no-good ex, you would’ve been disheveled for an entirely different reason.”
I try my best to ignore his suggestiveness and focus instead on his thoughts about Tim. “How do you know my ex is no good?”
“He’s messed up what he had with you, for starters. In my book, that makes him the stupidest man alive,” he says, laying his arm down on the counter. His fingers are a hairsbreadth from my skin, teasing me. “But I’m also grateful to him, in a