Miles From Home (4 page)

I WATCH MAGGIE as she moves around the room, it’s hard for me to keep my eyes off of her. She has such an innocence about her, almost pure, which is far from the type of girls I’ve dated in the past. Although meeting Maggie was definitely not in my plans, I didn’t mind helping her with her car and I wasn’t about to leave her stranded on the side of the road by herself. I really appreciate her letting me share her room and I definitely don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, but I have noticed her small quick glances when she thinks I’m not looking. I was really counting on being in Chicago by now, however, I can’t complain; it could be a lot worse. I need to call Ryan tomorrow and let him know I’ve been delayed and I know Karen will freak out if she doesn’t hear from me soon. I can’t help but feel guilty for leaving Dad and Karen, but I know she will take care of him. She always does. These past twelve hours I’ve felt like I can finally breathe. I’ve waited too long to get out of that town and if I never see it again, it will be too soon. I’ll miss what family I have, but if I stayed there any longer I would have never gotten out.

Sam grabs the key to the cottage as we head out the door and towards the park. The laughter and music echoes through the streets as we get closer. There are several booths lined up in rows, displaying their wines; some local, others from out of town. They are all offering free wine tasting as well as bottles for purchase. Music plays in the background and people mingle in groups while they move to each booth.

“Should we try some of the wine?” Sam asks, stepping up to the first booth. He takes two of the plastic cups and hands me one. When I take a small sip, the memory of my first experience with alcohol comes rushing back to me. I was seventeen, and my best friend and I swiped a bottle of wine from her parents’ liquor cabinet one night when they were out for the evening. We drank the entire bottle. The next morning was brutal and I swore I would never drink again. When my dad found out, I thought I was going to be grounded for the rest of my life.

I smile and throw my cup in the large trash bin beside the booth. “Wanna try another?” I ask Sam, walking to the next booth.

“Sure, but one of us needs to try to stay sober,” Sam says, winking.

After several booths of wine tasting, it looks like Sam has loosened up a bit and I’m feeling more talkative, if that’s even possible. He’s actually talked more in the past hour than he has since we first met. We find a bench away from the crowd, and sit and people-watch. In between watching several intoxicated people stumble and others dancing to the music, we talk about simple things. Nothing too in depth. I now know that Sam’s favorite food is fried chicken. He asks me the same and I inform him it is Mexican food. His favorite color is orange. Orange? Really? I give him a hard time about it as I nudge him with my shoulder. Of course I tell him my favorite color is red, and he’s surprised it’s not pink. “Pink? Why would you think it would be pink?” I ask, facing him. We seem to be more comfortable making eye contact now that the wine has me more relaxed.

Sam turns to me. “You seem like a girly-girl, so I just assumed it was your favorite color. There’s nothing wrong with pink.” I put on my
you’ve-offended-me
look and all of a sudden I get the giggles. They are the ones where I can’t help it even though I try as hard as I can. I used to get them in church regularly. My dad would look down at me with his stern look until my mom would hand me a piece of gum, like gum would keep me from giggling.

“What’s so funny?” Sam asks, as I look up and try to compose myself and that’s when it hits me; God, Sam is beautiful. Sure, I thought he was cute the first time I saw him. But after really getting a good look at him, I notice that not only does he have the most beautiful crystal-blue eyes, but he also has dimples when he smiles. I’m such a sucker for dimples.

“Sorry, it’s not you, Sam. I think the wine has gotten to me. I don’t feel drunk, I just feel . . . silly.”

Sam smiles shyly while he stands and holds out his hand for me to take. “Come on, Maggie, I think it’s time we head back. I think someone has had a little too much to drink.” I stand up and take his hand and the electricity that flows between us is obvious; we both look down at our hands that are intertwined. He felt it too.

I didn’t realize just how much I had to drink until we are walking down the narrow path towards the cottage. I don’t feel as sure on my feet as I did before and Sam has to guide me to the door. Sam fumbles for the key in his pocket. It’s dark and he’s having trouble finding the keyhole on the door as we lean up against each other laughing. I stand against the door and I start to feel my head spin. When Sam finally gets the door open, he turns to help me inside. Sam’s face is close, too close, and in a split-second decision I lean forward and kiss him. It doesn’t take me long to realize he’s not kissing me back. I pull away quickly and look down at my feet, thinking to myself:
What did I just do?
I quickly regain my composure as Sam looks at me, making me feel as though I’ve done something wrong. “Oh God, Sam, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’ve just had too much to drink.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles. “I’m sorry for not kissing you back, and believe me I wanted to. I just don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you, especially after having so much to drink.” He places his finger under my chin, lifting it to look me in the eyes.
Oh no, don’t look into his eyes,
I’m thinking to myself. But it’s no use. Here we stand looking at each other, and I know right then and there that I don’t want Sam to leave tomorrow.

I look away and walk farther away from him while Sam is still standing in the doorway. I can see he’s nervous and maybe rethinking if sharing a room was a good idea “Maggie, are you sure you’re comfortable with me being here? And even though you’ve had a little more wine than I think you should have and I want you to know that you are safe with me.”

I walk to where Sam is and I grab his hand, pulling him in. “Yes, Sam, of course I feel comfortable with you here. I’m sorry about the kiss. Let’s just forget about it. Now come on so you can get some rest. I promise I won’t attack you in your sleep,” I say, walking towards the bathroom.

When I finally get up enough nerve to come out, Sam is sitting on the rollaway. I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat before I speak. “Sam?” I say softly. “I want to ask you something.”

Sam gives me his full attention as I sit on the edge of the bed that’s dangerously close to his.

“What would you say if I offered you a ride to Chicago?” I bite my lower lip, anticipating his reaction. “It’s on my way. I would love the company and it has to be better than riding the bus. Please, Sam, just think about it and we can talk about it in the morning.”

I stand up and walk over to the small table where my purse is. I can tell by the look on Sam’s face that he’s deep in thought when I glance back at him. I know he’s thinking about it by the way his brows are furrowed. I get the feeling he may decline my offer and tell me it’s not a good idea. I busy myself looking through my purse and when I find my phone, I push the button . . . but it’s dead. A sense of relief comes over me when I remember that I have my charger. I plug it into the outlet and connect it to my phone as Sam’s silence has me feeling embarrassed and self-conscious. I’m not surprised to see there are four missed calls and a bunch of text messages, way too many to go through right now. All I want to do is lie down and close my eyes and hopefully, by tomorrow, I will be ready to say goodbye to Sam.

I OPEN MY eyes as the sun shines through the tan and red plaid curtains, but I’m too warm and comfortable to move. I wrap the blanket around me and close my eyes as my head pounds. When I suddenly remember where I am, I sit up and quickly look around the room. I slowly glance towards the rollaway to see if Sam is still sleeping. It’s empty, and it looks like he never even slept there. I scan around the room and notice that the bathroom door is open. He’s not here. I lay back and stare at the ceiling and scold myself mentally for being too forward last night.
You silly girl, you scared him off.
I slowly fall back to sleep.

When I open my eyes again I see Sam holding two coffee cups, and a small box is sitting next to me on the bed. “I didn’t want to wake you; I thought maybe you might need some coffee and something to eat after last night. How are you feeling?” I blink my eyes rapidly as he slowly comes into focus. I smile as relief washes over me and the grin on his face tells me he isn’t too upset with my actions last night.

“I feel fine considering I must have passed out last night. Thank you for the blanket. How did you sleep?”

Sam hands me one of the cups and sits in the large leather chair that is situated at the end of the bed. “I slept well. The rollaway was fairly comfortable.” He takes a sip.

“Thank you for the coffee. You were right, it’s exactly what I needed.”

Sam pushes the box towards me. “There are a couple of donuts in the box. I didn’t know what kind you like so I got one chocolate and one plain.” I flip the lid open, trying to decide which one I want. “I like either of them so I’ll let you pick which one you want. There should also be a small sack in there that has sugar and creamer, if you need it for your coffee.” His eyes are fixated on my mouth as I take a small bite of my donut. Sam watches as I slowly lick the sugar off of my lips, but he looks away with a sharp turn of his head when I look at him. I reach over and hand the box with the plain glazed donut over to him and he takes it. With a heavy sigh, Sam leans back and sips on his coffee. I can feel the tension in the room as last night’s question looms heavily in the air and I decide I need to say something to defuse the uncomfortable feel surrounding us.

“Sam, my offer still stands and I hope you’re considering it. The kiss last night . . . well, I hope it doesn’t keep you from saying you will.” I take a bite of my donut and wait for his response. I can see by the way his brows are furrowed that it’s something he’s considering carefully.

“Maggie, I can’t ask you to take me to Chicago.” He looks at me and runs both hands through his hair.