“Is this your mom’s recipe?” I ask, looking up at Sam.
“Yeah. I called her and got it from her. She wants a report from you in the morning. Tell her she makes it better.” He puts the bowl of apple slices down and takes a seat next to me. “Even though I know mine is the best.”
“Thanks, Sam.” I grab an apple slice and stick it in the dip. “That was really sweet.”
“I can be sweet from time to time.” He playfully nudges me, watching as I take a bite. “Well?”
“It’s good!” I say once I’m done chewing. “It tastes exactly like I remember, but better since you made it.”
“Just don’t set the bar too high,” he jokes. “I can cook, but I usually make the same things over and over.”
“About three years ago, I decided that once a week I was going to try and cook a really good dinner. That lasted a few months, actually, which was longer than I thought I’d last. But then I went on tour and it threw off the routine. I like cooking,” I start and get another apple slice to scoop up more dip. “But going through all that trouble just for myself doesn’t seem worth it. Plus, I have no one to help me do dishes.”
“You don’t have servants?” Sam teases.
“I do have a housekeeper, but I’m guessing you do too?”
“Yeah,” he admits. “They come every other week. I feel like I don’t use the space enough to warrant anything more.” He turns his head, looking at me.
“I get it. And for the weeks when I’m traveling, my house is pretty much empty.”
“I’m kind of surprised you don’t have pets. Other than the horse.”
“Remember Salem?” I ask.
Sam nods. “The black cat you got in high school.”
“I took him with me. He lived to be nineteen. After he died, I was too sad to get another cat, but I kinda want to now. Cats are fairly easy, and I can have my P.A. come by to take care of them when I’m out. She gets my mail and makes it look like someone is home when I’m away for work.”
“P.A.?” Sam questions.
“Oh, right. I forget people don’t know what I’m talking about sometimes. Personal assistant.”
“Sounds fancy.”
I laugh. “It sounds fancier than it is. She mostly manages my social media and emails but helps with other things too.”
“Now I’m imagining you being a jerk boss like Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada.”
I laugh. “I’m not at all, and you’ve seen that movie?”
“I have, and I like it. Mean Girls is good too.”
I cock an eyebrow. “What about The Notebook?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t see how it’s a love story.”
“I said the same thing! And as much as I hate using this term, but I’m surprised you watch chick flicks.”
“I do have a sister,” he reminds me, nudging me with his arm.
“A sister who’s seen my boobs.”
“Way to ruin the moment,” he says with a frown, and I laugh. “Do you want anything more than dip? I have leftover chicken in the fridge, or I could order something. I’m taking you out to dinner tomorrow night, just so you know.”
“The dip is perfect, and I’m excited for dinner. I brought a dress I’ve never worn before just for date-night.”
“It’s supposed to be warm tomorrow night too. We could walk along the river after dinner, if you want.”
“That sounds wonderful.” I reach for another apple slice, looking at Sam again. He yawns, and I remember again we have a two-hour time difference and he’s not used to staying up late like I am. “I need to take a shower. Want to join me?”
Sam gives me a smirk. “You really have to ask?”“You have to leave already?” I grumble, eyes fluttering open for just a second. It’s still dark out, and Sam just hit the snooze on his alarm. “One more minute?”
“One more,” he says back, sounding just as tired as I feel. We had amazing sex—again—before going to sleep, and Sam spent a considerable amount of time with his head between my legs. I was exhausted from coming three times in a row. He has to be exhausted as well.
I roll over, sliding my hand up Sam’s back, and run my fingertips up and down his shoulder. He moves closer, draping his arm around me. I swear only thirty seconds pass before the alarm goes off again. Sam hits snooze and takes me in his arms, pressing my body against his.
I’m warm and comfy and don’t want him to leave. This weekend cannot come fast enough when we can lounge around in bed, having lazy morning sex followed by something way more invigorating later.
When his alarm goes off for the third time, he slowly forces himself away from me. “I need to get up or I’ll be late,” he says, voice thick with sleep.