Page 32 of Sizzle
“Plus”—Sam ran a hand over the back of his neck, his confident smile softening at the edges—“I’m not too proud to admit that, as awkward as my last conversation with Hawkins was, I kind of miss being around everyone at the house.”
A pang worked through Lucy’s chest, tightening her fingers over the steering wheel. “Yeah. I’m in touch with that. I mean, I know we could go to the Crooked Angel to hang out with everyone and none of them would really bat an eye, but it feels…I don’t know.”
“Really weird because we’re benched and they’re not?” he supplied.
“Well, yeah. I’m sure it’s not on purpose, but until we go back, I think it’s just going to be awkward.”
“I promise not to bring the awkward to our hangouts,” Sam said, his face solemn as he traced an X over the left side of his chest with an index finger. “We can even start right now.”
Lucy blinked. “Like,rightnow?”
Sam’s laugh was sexy and low and did things to her that she couldn’t explain but wanted a lot more of. “Come on, Lucy. You weren’t really expecting me to have any impulse control, were you?”
Soooo many places to go with that question. “Fair enough,” she said, forcing herself to get it together. The truth was, shehadenjoyed their day together, and she liked Sam—parts of her maybe a little too much, but unlike her new bestie, she had exceptional impulse control. She could totally spend time with Sam one on one without the world—or her panties—exploding.
“We can hang out, but whatever we do needs to involve food. Breakfast was amazing and all, but it was ages ago, and I’m not interested in playing chicken with my blood sugar.”
“Deal,” Sam said, pulling his cell phone from his jacket pocket. “Pizza good?”
“As long as you’re not putting olives on it.”
He looked at her in mock horror. “What kind of monster do you think I am? Sausage and mushrooms are the only things that belong on a pizza. That is a hill I’m prepared to die on.”
She laughed. “No self-sacrifice necessary. Sausage and mushrooms sound great.”
He tapped his way through a couple of screens on his phone before tucking it back into his pocket. “Done. It’ll be at my place in thirty minutes.”
“Excellent.”
Twenty minutes later, Lucy had parked her SUV in one of the guest spots outside Sam’s apartment building and they were making their way inside. She took in the lobby, with its large potted plants, tidy community bulletin board, and cream-colored granite tile, and her curiosity that he’d live in such a homey neighborhood came bursting back to life.
“So, how’d you find this place, anyway?” she asked, nodding in thanks as he held the security door open for her to walk through.
“I’d been searching for a while,” he said. “I’ve lived here for four years, but it took a long time before I could afford a place like this. Paying back college loans isn’t for the faint of heart, especially on a firefighter’s salary.”
Lucy blinked her surprise. “Your family didn’t help with college?”
While she didn’t follow local news and politics super closely, it was impossible to live in Remington without knowing who Jameson Faurier was, or that he was one of the wealthiest businessmen in the city. She’d never heard Sam—or anyone else at Seventeen, for that matter—talk about the elder Faurier directly, but the last name was unique enough and the resemblance between the men uncanny enough that Lucy had put two and two together with ease. The private equity firm Jameson Faurier had founded and still owned was worth billions with a B, last she’d read.
Lucy realized—far too belatedly, ugh—how personal the question was, even between friends. “I’m sorry. Forget I asked. That’s really none of my business.”
“No,” Sam said, and her face burned. She opened her mouth, although to say what, she had no idea. There really wasn’t anything that could walk back her overly nosy question with grace.
But then he added, “It’s okay. I’ve just been estranged from my family for a long time now, so they didn’t help with college.”
“Oh.” Lucy waited out the open and close of the elevator doors before continuing with, “I’m really sorry. That must be hard.”
Her own family consisted pretty much of her and her father, along with a few semi-distant aunts, uncles, and cousins in Portugal who they FaceTimed once a year at Christmas. She couldn’t imagine being estranged from her dad for years, though. God, she couldn’t even imagine going more than a week without at least texting him.
Sam shrugged, his confidence on full display. “It’s actually easier than you’d think.”
The elevator door trundled open before she could dive intothatseven-layer cake, and she followed Sam into the hallway. She tried to think of a way to proceed more gently than, “spill it, Enigma Man,” but before she could get even close, the door across from Sam’s opened to reveal a kind-eyed white woman in her mid- to late-seventies, clutching a manual can opener in her hands.
“Oh! Just the person I wanted to see,” the woman said, positively beaming at Sam, and holy crap, was thereanyonehe didn’t charm?
Sam’s smile in return was as genuine as it was charismatic. “Hazel! It’s good to see you. You’re looking beautiful, as always. How’s Geoffrey?”
“He’s grumpy, but I suppose if I were a fifteen-year-old Chihuahua with no teeth, I’d be grumpy, too,” she said. Peering past Sam, her gaze landed on Lucy, and the older woman’s eyes went wide. “Oh, I apologize! You have a guest.”