The Vacation

Worry that he wouldn't forgive her?

Samuel wasn't sure if he wanted to give her a dressing down for not sharing the truth with him or simply to undress her and celebrate her freedom by making love to her until she was a quivering heap in his hands. Maybe both.

He didn't spare another look at her ex as he walked her up the steps into the house. The guests had made themselves scarce in the aftermath, and Martha stood guard over the entrance of the B&B, still poised to protect her badger baby. Sam was impressed. He expected there was a lot more to Martha Dupris than met the eye.

Justine led him into a small library lined with bookshelves and a wide mahogany desk that took up a quarter of the space. She closed and locked the door, then fell against it, deflated in the wake of the excitement. "I am so, so sorry you had to witness that," she said, staring at the carpet.

Sam leaned against the desk trying to decide what to address first.

The fact that she was still married and hadn't mentioned it?

That her ex was a cruel shithead?

That her devotion to memories in a house didn't even make sense to him?

He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. None of those were what he really needed to say. "I'm falling for you Justine, and whatever happens, I want you to know I'm willing to wait for you to work it out."

Her eyes jumped up to his. "Really? You're not angry?"

He shrugged. "I'm a little bit pissed off that I let him goad me into hitting him because now my hand hurts, but otherwise, no. Not really."

Sam crossed over to her and circled her face with his hands, tilting it up to him. "You had your reasons for what you did, and they probably made sense to you at the time. But other people care about you and want to help you. I care. I want to help." Sam brushed his lips over hers and wished he could make all of her problems disappear with that one simple act.

Justine smiled up at him hesitantly. "There's one other thing I didn't tell you," she said.

"What more could there be? Have you got a child hidden somewhere?" He was joking, but a niggling dread took hold of the pit of his stomach.

She punched his arm. "No, smartass. I'm falling for you, too. I'm happy winter calves are bad and I'm happy I don't know how to operate sharp knives, and I'm so sorry I didn't just tell you everything before. There won't be any more secrets between us, alright?"

"No more secrets," he agreed. "And since honesty is the best policy, I doubt I can learn to play the cello well enough to please you, and I'm about to take you on top of that desk over there to make up for it."

"Oh!" Her smile was like a sunburst through clouds as she peeked over his shoulder at the desk. "I think full disclosure is going to agree with me."

Samuel chuckled and lifted her in his arms. "Me, too, Justine. Me, too."