Accidentally in Love, page 22
Sam brushed past them to her desk to change into her maroon Dr. Martens. “You all are so weird. But thank you, I think, for being so invested in my sex life?”
Hearing this meddlesome encouragement from her BFFs was actually convincing Sam to jump-start the fling. Relieving the “tension” of the busy workweek and whatever pent-up emotions she had when it came to Russ . . . it was about damn time.
“I have something else that may come in handy later,” Dana said, exchanging pointed looks with Cassie and Kit before handing Sam another small shopping bag. “Also from my upcoming fall collection, and, what a coincidence, in your size.”
Sam peered into the bag like it was full of snakes. But it was much more devious . . . and sort of perfect, especially once she held it up. The bra was basic enough, but it was an open-front closure, and the back had a pretty lace design that looked like an intricate design—perfect for Halloween, of course, but Sam would wear this year-round. The matching cheeky underpants were completely sheer and had the same weblike motif. A little spooky, a bit demented, but incredibly sexy, and just the sort of thing to give Sam a boost of confidence about the events of the night.
“Dana, these are badass,” she said, carefully folding everything and placing it in the bag. “Thank you. They’re perfect.”
“Perfect for taking off,” Dana said, letting out a wolf whistle.
With that, the ladies of Buxom Boudoir gathered up their things, turned out the lights in the studio, and headed down to their vintage photobus for an afternoon of fun.
TWENTY
Russ was ready for the night.
He remembered to put the sauvignon blanc in the freezer when Sam said she was on her way so it was properly chilled, and he had showered using some fancy body-wash stuff Cassie had given him for Christmas. He decided to wear a green shirt because Kit had told him that the color “did wonders for his peachy complexion,” so he went with it. And he was prepared early to get everything ready for his meticulously planned dinner . . .
But by the time Sam was ringing the buzzer to be let in, the proverbial shit had hit the fan. The saffron and truffles didn’t look terrible, but the pork belly paella was a goopy mess. Somehow, he over-charred the Swiss chard for the simple arugula and lemon vinaigrette salad he’d prepared ahead of time, and the puff pastry for the chocolate tart was decidedly soggy. Perhaps Russ had overestimated how much he could handle when it came to a homemade dinner.
He was lighting a candle that Cassie had given him, or accidentally left in the apartment, to mask some of the pungent, burned smell, when he heard a knock at his door. Russ opened it, and everything that had gone wrong earlier was irrelevant, because Sam was there.
Russ actually felt weak in the knees when her face lit up as he opened the door. Someone must have been on their way out and let Sam in the building when she arrived. She smiled at him and it was all fine. It didn’t matter that he had nothing to give her aside from white wine and his entire soul.
Here we go with grandiose sentiments.
Sam walked in and looked around. It was probably odd, since Cassie had lived there until she and Reid moved in together after their engagement. He couldn’t stop himself from noticing that she was wearing what he had started thinking of as “the jeans,” because she wore them whenever she had something important going on. They were inky black, hugged her butt perfectly, and made her legs look a mile long. But what he didn’t expect to see was the open back of her basic black T-shirt scooped low, exposing her bra, which was lacy, sinful, and looked like a spiderweb he was sure to be lured into.
“I like what you’ve done with the place, Russell,” Sam said. He’d rearranged the mismatched furniture a little and bought a much bigger TV. He kind of liked that nothing quite went together. “But what is that smell?”
“Um, yes, well, first, let me offer you a drink,” he said, moving into the kitchen for the wine.
“Actually, I have that covered,” Sam said, pulling a gift bag from behind her large purse. “Happy housewarming, or something.”
Russ was flummoxed by the idea of Sam buying him a gift. He took the bag, and before she could resist, he hugged her. And when she didn’t pull away, Russ felt like everything just made sense with Sam in his arms. “Thanks,” he said when the hug ended.
“You haven’t even opened it yet. You may hate it.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Russ replied, taking Sam by the hand and leading her to the couch. The gift was heavier than he expected. Sitting down, he removed the tissue paper and pulled out a nice bottle of bourbon from Whiskey Acres, a western Illinois distillery he’d been meaning to try, and he saw there was also a box. Opening it, Russ found two glass tumblers, with the Chicago Bears and Cubs logos etched on them.
“Your brother was no help because he didn’t know where your baseball alliances are held. He assumed the Cubs, and then suggested maybe I just go with the Chicago Sky and avoid baseball altogether. It was a journey,” Sam explained. “Let me know if you don’t like them. This local artist does all kinds of them—sports, street signs . . .”
Russ let Sam continue to babble for a moment. She was just as nervous as he was, and it was adorable. “Sam, I love them. I’m a Cubs fan, I think. I don’t know if I care, which I realize is sacrilege in this town. I’ve been on the move so long, I haven’t paid much attention to sports anywhere. But these are really cool. Thank you.” Russ quickly moved the wine from the freezer to the fridge, rinsed out what were now his favorite glasses, got some ice, and poured them both rather generous amounts of the dark liquor.
“What should we toast to?” he asked.
“Figuring out dinner, because ours smells burned.”
“Oh shit,” Russ said, suddenly remembering dinner. As he bolted over to the stove, he told Sam about his cooking woes. “So, it was already ruined. Not because I was sidetracked by your gift. Well, I was, but only from forgetting to turn the paella’s burner off, which was a disaster to begin with.”
Sam, who had followed him to the kitchen but stayed on the other side of the island, at a safe distance from the sad state of dinner, surveyed the entire scene. And started laughing.
And so did Russ. And they couldn’t stop.
Sam’s genuine laughter, which, to be honest, no one heard that often, was a musical, magical sound to Russ. He instantly felt better that she found the situation amusing, and once he thought about it all, he found it funny, too.
This giggling fit changed the mood between them—suddenly Russ felt like he could breathe. Maybe this evened the playing field. She had babbled about etched glass and he had ruined dinner. Okay, so she had an advantage since she’d brought the libations, and he’d destroyed the meal they were supposed to eat.
“Should we order a pizza?” she asked politely once their laughter slowed. “It’ll take a while to get here, but I’m not starving.”
He agreed, and they went back to the couch, where they placed an online order for delivery. Sam had angled herself so she faced the window and picked up her drink from the coffee table. Unlike Russ, Cassie had had her couch positioned in front of the window rather than the TV.
“This apartment has the best views for sunsets and sunrises,” she murmured, peering down into her drink.
“Yeah. I mean, I agree. I mean, I suppose you would know.”
“Russell, have you not seen a sunrise or sunset in your apartment?”
“No, I’ve been working a ton and then I basically crash the minute I walk in.”
Now it was Sam’s turn to leap up, which gave Russ a great view of her sexy, open-back top as she went to stand at one end of the couch. He blinked out of his slack-jawed gaze at the sight of black lace and brown skin when he realized Sam was waiting on his help.
“We can watch the sunset while we wait for pizza. Let’s move this.”
They rearranged the couch so it faced the large windows along one wall of the apartment and sat back down with their drinks. And this time Sam sat near the middle, subtly allowing Russ to sit closer.
“To be fair, I’ve been working a lot, too. I barely see Kit, I have no time to visit my parents, and when I do get home, I just want to go to bed.”
“Same,” Russ agreed. “The festivals are cool, though.”
“Yeah, I like working them. I’m not usually a people person—”
“You don’t say?”
“If you make me resort to bringing up your dinner fiasco, you know I will,” she shot back.
Russ put his hand to his heart. “Sam, don’t destroy my dignity.” He tried to make his voice as saccharine as possible.
“I suppose you’ve been through enough this evening, considering the state of your kitchen,” she said, running her hands through her hair, which looked different—softer or something. He felt his palms warm with anticipation of doing the same thing himself.
Rather than making too overt of a move so early in the evening—though he really, really wanted to—Russ decided to keep their conversation going. “How was Do Division?” This street festival took place in the heart of Wicker Park, on Division Street, a cool neighborhood that could be a bit much at times.
Sam rolled her eyes. “It was fine. There was a band that sounded like a bunch of buzzing bees with a harp and tiny upright piano tinkering in the background. I think they technically only played one song, but it lasted their entire half-hour set. I still feel like my ears are filled with fuzz.”
“That sounds . . . interesting. I worked at a music venue for a few weeks in Memphis a couple years ago, and the things people consider music can be mind-boggling. Or just over my head.”
“Is it weird, being in one place for so long? You’ve been back in Chicago for a while.”
Russ nodded and thought about how to answer Sam’s question. He hadn’t been in one place for more than a few months at a time, and now he’d been in Chicago for over a year. But the instinct to leave was strong—even though the idea of leaving was getting harder and harder . . . sort of like a certain part of his anatomy every time he watched Sam swallow a sip of her drink.
“Yeah, it’s been different, but nice, too. Reid and I are in a good place, and I’ll never forget everything that he, Cassie, and James have done for me since I’ve been back. I don’t know what I’d have done without their help.”
“They’re pretty great. You’re lucky to have family like that.”
“I’m glad I have friends like you, too.”
“Oh, we’re just friends now?” Sam said, finishing her drink and setting her glass down on the table.
“I mean, you’re more than a friend, Sam. You know that, right?”
“Summer fling notwithstanding, I had my sneaking suspicions,” Sam replied, shifting on the couch and folding one of her legs under her to get more comfortable.
Russ knew he had been rather obvious about his interest in her, ever since the first moment he saw her at the Dreamland photo shoot the previous year. After the events at the flea market and the last few weeks of back and forth, it had all led to this evening. But, of course, he’d ruined dinner, and he was awkwardly attempting to have a witty repartee—at least he thought that’s what they were having—and he wasn’t sure how it was going.
Russ was sure, though, that Sam was a knockout.
He’d spent enough time around Buxom Boudoir to know when they were and were not wearing makeup, and he knew that Sam was wearing some, but he also knew that she was the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, with or without products to enhance her natural beauty. She looked so cool, sitting on the couch, gazing out the window and looking over at him every so often.
“Do you ever think about staying?”
“You mean in Chicago?”
“Yes, but not necessarily,” she answered. Sam was speaking slowly, carefully thinking about what she wanted to say to him. “Just staying somewhere long-term.”
Of course he had thought about staying. But all he knew was moving from place to place. Sam’s brown eyes finally met his, and Russ felt like he was being pulled in a million different directions. He wanted to prove he could do something important, and culinary school was a great opportunity. But hearing her ask about this made Russ’s heart beat like crazy because the woman he’d been trying to get to pay attention to him for so long finally was doing so. And he was leaving soon.
“Sure, I’ve considered a more permanent situation. But I’ve always been on the go,” Russ said. Sam studied him, looking him over from head to toe. He scooted closer to her on the long couch, taking her hand in his. “My mom is the same way. She moves from place to place, never staying long. She’s happier that way. And I like it, too.”
Sam took his hand and laced her fingers with his. “You’ve never really told me much about your parents before.”
“There’s not too much to tell. My parents were definitely not like Cassie’s or yours. And with the way things happened last spring with our dad and the house, he’s officially out of our lives. But I don’t really know what to make of her,” Russ said, grateful to be holding Sam’s hand and focusing on that while he said things he never spoke out loud to anyone. “I started moving around because I saw my mom do it, and it just stuck.”
“You don’t have to do that, though,” Sam said, giving his hand a squeeze. “You could stay.”
This was exactly what Russ was trying to avoid, but the fact that Sam was concretely expressing that she wanted him to stay made him puff up with pride. But he reminded himself that he had plans, a way to make something of himself. Whatever was happening between him and Sam was just for the summer. Although part of him wanted to lay prostrate in front of her and do whatever she told him to do. He decided to lighten the mood again and focus on making good on the fun they wanted to have together.
“I don’t know, I get antsy when I’m in one place for too long,” Russ replied, using this as an excuse to move closer to Sam on the couch.
“You’re ridiculous, you know?”
“Only around you,” he said, tacking on the biggest, silliest grin he could muster.
“And why is that?”
“I’m willing to do whatever I can to make you smile,” Russ said, which made the corners of Sam’s plush lips tip up. She took his almost-empty glass and leaned forward to place it next to hers on the coffee table in front of them. Russ saw a piece of hair fall across her face, and before he knew what he was doing, he tucked it back behind her ear. Sam stilled at this, and when the silky strand slipped out again, Russ repeated this motion. From the minute she walked through the door of the apartment, that one lock of hair had been driving him wild. And when it fell out yet again, both Russ and Sam moved closer, turning toward each other, scooting together. He was close enough now that he could smell her shampoo or perfume—the bright warmth of vanilla and coconut. Normally Russ wasn’t a fan of coconut, but right then, in that moment, it was his favorite thing in the world. It drew him in, closer still, finally bringing their lips together.
The kiss started softly, as though they were both testing the other to see how far they would go, and quickly deepened. Russ’s hands traveled down Sam’s neck, pulling her closer to him. She tasted like whiskey—sharp, dark, and maybe dangerous. So dangerous, he swore he heard alarm bells going off in his head. He kept kissing her to find out for sure.
“Russ,” she mumbled into his mouth. “The door.”
Russ came back to reality and heard the noise of his buzzer going off, not bells. He closed his eyes as the annoying sound continued. “Do we really need pizza?”
“Yes,” Sam said, totally serious.
Russ walked over to the door and hit the response button that let the delivery person in the building. While they waited for their food to arrive, Russ leaned against the kitchen island. “Come over here.”
Sam sauntered over, nestling herself right in front of him, and they began kissing again. This time Russ let his hands roam beyond her neck. Sam’s shirt had shifted slightly, and her shoulder was exposed. Of all body parts, Russ was now completely turned on by the sight of her bare shoulder.
Considering he’d seen quite a bit more of Sam—their first interaction at the Dreamland lingerie photo shoot, watching her perform a striptease as part of her burlesque routine, and those few mesmerizing moments in the photobus—now, apparently, was the time for her shoulders to fulfill every one of his erogenous desires.
Before he could continue finding new, perfectly innocuous body parts to be tempting, a loud knock came from the door. Sam let out a sigh when they pulled apart, which Russ found overwhelmingly cute.
In the two minutes it took him to answer the door, sign his name, and hand over a tip, Sam had disappeared. When Russ turned back around to the kitchen island to set down the pizza, she was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he saw her heels by the barstool at the kitchen island.
Then a few feet from there, her shirt.
Farther down the hallway, Russ saw the jeans.
Forgetting where exactly anything was at the moment, Russ realized he had been following a trail of discarded clothing, and he was now at the door to his room.
And Samantha Sawyer was on his bed, wearing black lace and not much else.
TWENTY-ONE
TO DO
Start a spreadsheet for Lazer to upload fest contact info
Figure out best day for L’s welcome lunch
Sheet music backdrop for Lollapalooza (should we just make one?) YES
Wrap Russ’s gift
