Stranger Read online

  “Yeah. But you have to admit, they tied it all up at the end. You knew that some of them were going to die, but did you think it was going to be that first dude?”

  I hadn’t. That had been a surprise, killing off the character that had been set up to seem like the hero. “That was good, you’re right.”

  With half an hour between each showing we had plenty of time to talk about the film, and we did. Sam might have watched parts of it from behind the shield of his hand, but he hadn’t missed anything important.

  “But did you like it?” I asked again as the lights went down for the start of the next feature. “I don’t want you to sit through something you hate.”

  Sam reached for my hand again. “These movies scare the crap out of me, but I like hanging out with you.”

  It didn’t seem as if we’d spent close to eight hours in the theater, but the empty popcorn and cups proved we had. So did my aching bladder, which protested the abuse of being made to contain so much liquid. The ladies’ room, typically, was full and it took awhile for me to get out.

  By the time I did, Sam had gone outside to wait.

  He smiled as soon as he saw me. “Hey. Thought maybe you’d drowned.”

  “Long lines.” We’d entered the theater in the light, but it seemed somehow fitting after a day of scares to exit in darkness.

  He turned to me. “So.”

  “So.” I cocked my head to look at him.

  “Did you have a good time?”

  “I did.” We started walking toward my car, and this time I couldn’t have said who was leading and who following. “How about you?”

  “Stellar.” Sam took a deep breath and looked up at the night sky. “I’m going to have to sleep with the light on, but it was great. Thanks for asking me.”

  “The look on your face when that guy jumped out of the closet with the meat hook was worth it.”

  Sam palmed his face. Below his hand I caught a glimpse of another of his lovely smiles.

  “Man. You must think I’m some kind of dork.”

  “No. It was sort of cute.” I didn’t tell him how much I’d liked the fact he could discuss the movies with me, unpeel them like layers. He’d picked out visual effects I’d have missed. He had a good eye for detail.

  He moved a little closer. “Great. Cute. That’s like saying I have a good personality.”

  I had to laugh. “Well, you have that, too.”

  Sam groaned. “Grrrrrrreat.”

  I laughed harder as we walked toward Betty. “This is me.”

  “This is your car?” Sam ran a hand over Betty’s hood.

  I unlocked the door. “Yep.”

  Shaking his head, Sam laughed and pointed a few spaces down. “That’s mine.”

  I stared. He stared. His car was a Camaro, too. His was in much better shape.

  He’d taken up my hand before I could pull away.

  “Fate,” Sam murmured. “Or luck. Whatever.”

  I let him move closer to me. Heat from his body surrounded me, though I hadn’t been cold. He didn’t touch me with his hands, but the caress from his gaze was enough to make me swallow hard against a dry throat.

  “Do you want to go someplace?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said. “Definitely.”

  He took me to the Pancake Palace.

  It wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind, but what do you say to a man when you think he’s taking you to a by-the-hour motel and instead he leads the way to an all-night breakfast joint?

  “I’ll have coffee.”

  The waitress smiled at us both as Sam ordered their huge breakfast platter, “minus the pig.”

  Then he sat back in the garish orange booth and smiled at me. I ordered chocolate-chip French toast and a side of hash browns.

  “And some more coffee,” Sam said. “Keep it coming. We’ll be here for a while.”

  “Will we?” I asked when the waitress left the table.

  He nodded and stripped the paper from a straw. He twirled it into a knot and offered me one side. “Pull.”

  I pulled. He got the knot.

  “Someone’s thinking about me,” he said, and tossed the paper to the side. “Is it you?”

  “I’m sitting with you, Sam, I guess I might be.”

  “Something good, or something bad?”

  I laughed. “You know what? I honestly don’t know.”

  We talked about the movies until the waitress brought us steaming platters of food and set them down, refilled our mugs and asked us if we wanted anything else. Sam hadn’t looked away from me. Not once.

  “We’re good,” he said. “For now.”

  I picked up my fork and stabbed into the stack of French toast. I felt him staring, but concentrated on cutting my food. When I looked up, he was still looking.

  “Aren’t we?” he asked.

  I didn’t know the answer to that, either. I chewed a bite of syrup-soaked bread while I thought. Then I drank some coffee. Sam had dug into his own breakfast, chewing and swallowing and not pressuring me to reply.

  When my phone began to sing to me from my purse, Sam stopped with a fork halfway to his mouth. “‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’?”

  I pulled out my cell and gave him a smile. “I got tired of Deep Purple.”

  Sam put a hand over his heart and pretended he was staggering back in his seat while I answered. It was the answering service, of course, and I took down the number in the small notepad I carried with me for just that reason. Sam watched me write. I clicked my pen as I hung up.

  “Are you always on call?” he asked.

  “Mostly, yes. I have an intern, Jared, but…” I shrugged.

  Sam studied me. “He’s not good?”

  “Oh, he’s great. Really good. I just like making sure, you know…things are…done.” I faltered uncharacteristically, I thought.

  “Do you have to go?” he asked.

  “I might. I have to answer this call first. Maybe not.”

  He nodded. I dialed and spoke to a weary-voiced man whose father-in-law had passed away in a nursing home. We made arrangements to meet the next morning, and I called the nursing home to schedule the pickup of the body. I ate in between phone calls and drank as much coffee as the waitress brought.

  “You’re never going to be able to sleep tonight,” Sam commented when I finally finished all my calls.

  I looked at my watch. “By the time I get home, I’ll be fine.”

  Sam had finished his breakfast and settled back with his mug. “I’m impressed.”

  “By my caffeine intake?” I stirred sugar into another mug and lifted it to sip.

  “No. By the way you talked to those people. You’re good at what you do, Grace.”

  “Thanks, Sam. Thank you.”

  “I mean it.”

  Later, when we walked to our nearly identical cars sitting side by side in the parking lot, I’d stopped expecting a kiss. Of course, that was when he decided to swoop in for one, but instead of putting his lips to mine, Sam kissed my cheek.

  I put a hand over the spot where his lips had left their heat when he pulled away. “What was that for?”

  “I didn’t want you to think I didn’t like you.” Sam winked.

  I unlocked my door and opened it, but stared right at him when I said, “Do you?”

  Sam had put enough distance between us to make asking the question easier, but I’d have asked it even if he’d been close enough to touch. I was out of practice at having to guess a man’s intentions.

  Sam opened his car door and tossed his keys in his palm before curling his fingers over them. “Yep.”

  Nothing more. I waited, then shook my head and got behind the wheel. I watched him pull away and waved when he waved. By the time I got to the highway, I’d decided not to stress about it. My phone hummed “Don’t Fear the Reaper” and I answered it.

  “A lot,” Sam said.

  And though he hung up immediately after that, the call so brief I might have imagined it, I smil