She chuckles, running her fingers down my arm. “I hope he takes her down. Someone has to stop her.”
“You might go down with her,” I admit.
Sam presses her lips together tightly. “I know. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take to get you and your friends some justice.”
I bend down to kiss her, but she places her hands on my chest to push me away. “Not in the office. With the door open.”
I glance at the door. “Meet me at my house after you’re done work. I’m taking you to dinner.”
“Dolce?”
I nod. “I owe you a makeup date.”
She smiles and then steers me toward the door. “I’ll see you later. Now, go before my next appointment shows up.”
I return her smile, disappearing as fast as I came, feeling better about my future with Sam.
Chapter 27
Tucker
The hostess shows us to our table in the far corner at Dolce, leaving us with a menu and a smile. Sam slides into the circular booth next to me. She’s wearing a short skirt, her toned thigh brushing against my hand. I need to touch her. I glide my hand up her thigh, and her skin pricks with tiny bumps.
She tips her head at a couple across the balcony from us. “We’re not alone, Tuck.”
From this vantage point, no one can see my hand beneath her skirt. After being apart for a week, I missed every part of her. But she’s right. I need to behave.
Removing my hand from her leg, I slide it across her neck. “Better?”
“Yes.” She smiles. “You can play with me later.”
The balcony overlooks the expanse of the Italian restaurant. Reserved for high-end customers and large parties, this part of the restaurant is less crowded by design. Sam leans forward, placing her hands on the table to peek at the wine bar below us, where couples drink as they wait.
The restaurant is dimly lit with candles to set the mood.
“My parents love this place,” I say. “They come here all the time.”
“What’s good?”
“Everything. My favorite is the chicken cacciatore. Do you like spicy food? I should know that.”
Sam smiles. “Yeah, I love spicy foods. My mom made tacos with tons of jalapeños when I was younger. I remember my tongue burning for an hour after the first time I ate them.”
“You never talk about your mom.”
She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and turns away for a second before meeting my gaze. “I don’t like to dwell on the past.”
“But it’s your mom. I couldn’t imagine not having my mom around. You must miss her.”
“I was so young when she died. It’s hard to explain, but the longer she’s gone, the more I forget the little things. But occasionally, a specific memory comes to me, or I’ll smell her perfume and remember what it felt like when she would tuck me in for bed. It doesn’t happen that often, though.”
I feel awful. What do I even say?
Our waitress approaches the table with her hands behind her back, breaking up our conversation. Sam looks relieved. I am, too. I ordered the chicken for us.
A few minutes later, the waitress returns with our salads. She refills Sam’s wineglass and sets a beer in front of me, and then she leaves us to eat in peace.
Sam lifts the salad fork from the table, clutching it in her hand. “Do you think Jamie will find The Queen?”
