Oh, my curiosity was piqued now. And yet I wasn’t sure how to respond.
Truthfully, I didn’t have much personal experience with relationships…and certainly none with marriage or divorce. My parents had been happily married for nearly forty years, but I hadn’t had a boyfriend since grad school and he was nothing to write home about. None of my close, coupled friends were married yet, either.
Maybe Sam and his ex had petered out quickly. Maybe they’d lived together and hated it. Or maybe they’d stuck it out for their son and realized that was a mistake. I wondered how long they’d been together, and I wondered what she looked like. The only family photos on display in the great room were of Linc and Sam. And Linc was clearly his father’s son. They shared the same coloring and features.
The box of holiday goodies was probably my best clue. The quality of the selection indicated she had fabulous taste and an appreciation for glitter, but that was hardly enough to go on.
However, there was no way of knowing anything about Sam’s former life without asking. Or tiptoeing around the subject.
“Bad memories. I understand,” I commented awkwardly.
“No, not bad. Just…old. It’s like a pile of ancient T-shirts that you know you should get rid of, but you buy new ones instead and pack them on top of the old stuff. As long as you can close the drawer, it’s all good.”
I shook my head. “Oh, I don’t do that. I have a strict policy as it relates to new purchases. If I buy a new shirt, I give away an old one.”
Sam grinned. “Of course you do. That’s a good policy, and it’s what I’m doing here. Geez, I remember when Jase left this box for me. It didn’t cross my mind that the little asshole went out and bought all new shit. I should do the same thing.”
I stood when he did, studying his expression and mannerisms for clues. He seemed less agitated now. I assumed that meant parenting was a larger immediate concern than the demise of an old relationship. But gosh, I was still so curious.
“Do you get along with your ex?”
Oh, good question. I silently commended my delivery, too. My tone hinted at a passing interest, rather than a burning desire to know more than was polite about this man.
It was becoming clearer to me by the second that I wasn’t here because I wanted to do my share as a new member of my household, nor did I feel particularly sorry for Sam. He was complex, intimidating, and perfectly capable of taking care of himself and his child.
No, I was still obsessed with that kiss. I doubted he was suffering from the same case of butterflies, which meant he wanted something from me too…and it had nothing whatsoever to do with Christmas.
He wanted a science guy for an eight-year-old, and I wanted to pretend I was an altruistic elf when the truth was…I couldn’t keep my mind out of the gutter.
And I couldn’t stop staring at him.
I’d lost count of how many times I’d averted my gaze, hoping he wouldn’t notice my fixation with his mouth. Was it terrible that I wanted to kiss him again? Maybe not terrible, but definitely not wise.
In short, I was torturing myself.
And Sam was oblivious.
“Jase and I get along well,” he replied, brushing his free hand on his jeans. “How about if you buy a wreath and whatever ornaments you want, and I’ll pay you back? Or I can give you my credit card. My only request is that you stay away from gold balls. Silver, fine. Red, green, blue, chartreuse…go for it.”
“Noted.” I glanced over at the gold ribbon spilling from the box. “It’s pretty, but you do have an abundance of gold decor. She must love the color.”
“Who?”
“Your ex-wife.”
Sam made a face I couldn’t read without a roadmap. Sort of a mischievous half smile. “Uh…I don’t have an ex-wife. I thought you knew that.”
I frowned. “Uh…I don’t understand. You were married to—”
“A man. Jase is a dude.”
A dude.
A man.
A Homo sapiens with a penis.
Yes, I had an above-average IQ, but I was stumped.
I squinted, hoping that might make things clearer. “Uh…you’re gay?”
“Bi.”
“Bi,” I repeated, adjusting my glasses. “Okay, that makes sense. I guess I knew that. I mean, even though I kissed you first, you definitely returned the favor—with gusto, I might add.”
“I did.”
“But you’re injured and it was dark and we agreed not to speak of this again, so don’t listen to me. I’m babbling.”
“No, you’re fine,” he said soothingly.
“No, you’re fine,” I shout-blurted. “I don’t mean that in a lecherous way. Not like fiii-ne. I meant it more like you’re fine in your head. And…you’re a good kisser.”
He grinned. “Thank you. You—”
“Great, actually. A great kisser. No, wait. I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t mind me. I’m—”