“I think it’s a great store.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been in there?”
“Many times.”
“And you haven’t grown warts or anything? Mr. Henson practices voodoo and stuff in his back room. Turns out when the Clintons’ cat Molly went missing, someone saw her wander into Mr. Henson’s store, and I kid you not, Molly came out as a pit bull dog. Even answered to the name and all. It’s freaky.”
Chuckling, I said, “You don’t believe that, do you?”
“Heck yeah I do. I’m surprised you didn’t come out with a third eye or something after going into that place.”
“Oh, I did. I’m just really good with makeup.”
He chuckled. “You make me laugh, Elizabeth. I like that about you.” His eyes locked with mine, and he gave me a longing stare. Oh no…
I broke our stare and pointed to someone else. “What about them? What’s their story?”
He didn’t get a chance to tell me, because Sherriff Johnson was walking up to the stage.
The moment Sherriff Johnson stepped up to the microphone to speak about the town fair I knew I owed Tristan ten dollars. Right on cue, Sam leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You know, I was thinking maybe we can go to the fish fry after this. It’s real good and there’s a lot of dancing and stuff that goes on. It’s a great time.”
I smiled. I wasn’t sure how to turn him down. He looked so hopeful. “Well…” His eyes widened with a sparkle of excitement. “I would love that.”
He took his baseball cap off his head and slapped it against his knee. “Woo! Awesome, awesome, awesome!”
Sam couldn’t stop smiling wide and I couldn’t stop feeling as if going with him was a major mistake. Plus, I was out ten bucks, which sucked.
Sam and I sat in two chairs watching everyone else dance around drunkenly and freely as he told me the backstory of each and every person in the room. He turned to face me and said, “I hope you’re having fun.”
“I am.” I smiled.
“Maybe we can go on another date at some point?”
My jaw tightened. “Sam, you’re a wonderful person, but I don’t really think I’m in a place to be dating. You know what I mean? My life is currently a mess.”
He released a nervous chuckle and nodded in understanding. “I get it. I just…” He placed his hands on his knees and our gazes met. “I had to try. Just had to put myself out there.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“So you said you’re not ready to date? Are you sure it has nothing to do with your feelings for Tristan?” he asked.
“What?”
A smile found his lips. “I rea
d people, remember? I saw the way you looked at him at your house. He makes you happy. I think that’s nice.”
“We’re just friends,” I argued.
He kept smiling, but didn’t say another word about it.
I nudged him in the shoulder and said, “Are you sure you don’t want to get out there and dance?”
He wringed his fingers together and looked at the ground. “I ain’t much of a dancer. I’m more of a watcher.”
“Come on,” I said, holding my hand out toward him. “It will be fun.”
Sam hesitated for a while longer before he reached out and took my hand. We walked to the dance floor and I watched as his nerves built up more and more. His stare was trained on his tennis shoes and I could see him counting his steps in his head.