by Evie Claire
“Lorie…” a protest emanated from his general direction. One she barely heard, so deafened by the blood rushing through her ears. Blood that his presence managed to stir despite her protests.
Falling through her bedroom door, she slammed it shut and promptly fell against it instead of the floor. That wasn’t part of the plan. She had intended to keep a cool, composed demeanor. Not a single feather ruffled.
Until she’d walked through the front door to find Saam had showered.
Not that she saw any sign of it on him. No, it was the smell the entire cabin was perfumed with, and the extra weight and heat of steam in the air. And a smell from her childhood…Old Spice, maybe…mingling with the humidity? Did they even make that anymore?
But there was a reason Lorie recognized it. It was her grandpa’s favorite.
She turned to face the door she leaned against. Pressing her nose to the considerable crack and inhaling what traces of him she could. It was faint. But it was there.
“Shit!” she mumbled under her breath, placing her hand on the door where her nose had been. Did he hear me? Sniffing through the cracks like Brad did when a door separated them. She shook her head, feeling like her insides were unraveling.
From Old Spice?
Get it together, Lorie. You’re being a freakin’ weirdo.
She grabbed her bag off a nearby chair and headed into the bathroom. Putting even more space between herself and Dr. Saam. Another shower, a cold shower would surely put her mind back where it needed to be. She would read herself to sleep. Then morning would come. She would work her final day. And say goodbye to the camp and Saam…er…Dr. Sherazi.
Hair wet, jammies on, thighs cooled, she settled in with The Salesman’s Bible. Until the phone lying in the sheets beside her chimed. A picture of Oreos sitting beside two red and white milk cartons popped up.
Saam: It would be rude of me not to share.
Her stomach growled. Oreos and milk? He couldn’t possibly know it was her favorite, could he? She was hungry and it was tempting. But so was he.
Lorie: Yum! But no thanks. You enjoy them.
Immediately a reply came back.
Saam: Come on…you know you want it. ;)
He was flirting with cookies and it wasn’t fair.
Lorie: Busted.
Saam: ?
Lorie: Only someone who has stalked my Instagram account would know how I feel about Oreos.
There wasn’t an immediate reply. Seconds later an Instagram follow notification popped up. And the picture of cookies and milk. Again.
He knew her undying love for Oreos. Not accepting the offer made it obvious she was avoiding him. Which only made it obvious how she truly felt about him, right?
Yes, he was totally twisting her thoughts. Way more than he should.
They had to be friends, right? Work colleagues, at least. If Phebe or Quinn was sitting outside her door, would Lorie continue to distractedly reread the same paragraph of her book, or get her ass out there and eat some damn Oreos?
Jeez.
She jumped off the bed, tucked her phone into her sports bra, took a quick look in the mirror to be sure she was appropriately disheveled—didn’t want him thinking she was interested in anything more than his cookies—and shuffled out her door into the main room. Trying for all the world not to notice the Old Spice that still lingered in the room.
“Should I warm them?” Saam asked, pointing to a prehistoric microwave beside an equally ancient Mr. Coffee.
“Are you crazy? Oreos are the most perfect cookie God has ever put on this earth just the way they are. Only sociopaths warm Oreos.”
Saam chuckled.
“I took the liberty of getting you a bowl, too.” He produced a small Styrofoam vessel from beside the coffee table where the cookies sat. Such a damn stalker.
“Busted,” Lorie accused.
“Guilty.” Though he showed zero remorse.
Lorie cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes as she tried to see what game he was playing. Or maybe she needed to quit being so cerebral about everything. Just eat the damn cookies.
“I can show you a trick,” Lorie said, deciding to crawl out of her head. “If you open the spout of the milk carton all the way, it makes a bowl.” Lorie smiled excitedly. “Did you get a spoon?”
Pointing to the table, Lorie followed his finger to discover that yes, Saam was as prepared as a Boy Scout could be.
“Look at you! May I?” Lorie asked, gesturing toward his milk.
“By all means.”
Lorie took both cartons of milk. Opened them and then crumbled two cookies into each.
“They soak up the milk faster this way.”
“How was your patrol? Any unruly kids?” Saam took his spoon and sat back to dig in.
“Nah. These kids are so great. They’re happy to be here. To have a normal childhood experience.”
Saam nodded and moved the cookie around with his spoon. “How did you get involved with Camp Sunshine?”
“Liza, my childhood best friend, has type 1 diabetes. She camped here all the time. I came as her assistant, joined her when I could, and later started volunteering with the music department.”
“How’d you land that job?”
“You want the truth?” Lorie grimaced, because when it came to her past, she rarely shared everything.
“I usually pick dare,” he shot back unabashedly.
Lorie started in his direction. “I never would have guessed that about you.”
Saam shrugged. “Growing up with a twin makes you competitive. But yes, I’d love to hear your truth.”
Lorie bit her cheek. She honestly did try to move past her past. It was over. Gone. And even if she had to give it up for circumstances that were out of her control, she was still proud of what she’d accomplished.
“I should’ve been Miss Georgia four years ago.” A blush crept into her cheeks. “I’m a classically trained opera singer. It was my talent.”
“What do you mean, should have?”
“It’s a long story.” Lorie sighed, dismissing the question as she tucked a nonexistent tendril behind her ear.
“What was your song?”
“ ‘Make You Feel My Love.’ ”
“Like your phone?”
“Yep.”
“Adele’s version?”
“Is there any other?” Lorie said saucily, grinning as she spooned out another cookie.
“Dylan. He was the original. I’ll admit, Adele does it justice. But her voice doesn’t have the same ache and longing as his.”
“I won’t argue that it does. But she’s still my queen.”
“Sing it for me.”
“What? Here?”
“Why not?”
“I haven’t sung that song in forever. I’m so out of practice I probably couldn’t even hit the notes anymore.”
“I dare you.”
Lorie fixed him in a challenging but teasing glare. “Growing up in pageants with a bunch a catty bitches makes you competitive as hell, too.”
“Then the stage is yours.” Saam waved a hand to an empty spot on the floor.
Lorie stood, clearing her throat and straightening her shoulders.
Eyes closed, because that’s the way she always started—like the song was truly coming from the heart—she hummed the first note to find her key and took a deep breath.
“When the rain is blowing in your face…” Chills raced the length of her. God it felt good to sing again. To forget herself enough to get to that place in her mind. One where she was just a girl, singing to a man she loved, trying to convince him to love her, too.
Normally, she would open her eyes after the first verse, establish eye contact with the judges and really sell it in the homestretch.
>
Only there was a problem with this particular performance.
If Lorie opened her eyes, the song stopped being hers, and started being theirs. There was no audience, no judges, only Saam. Her pulse quickened. Her eyes remained shut. She threw the extra emotion into the song.
“To make you feel my love…” When she reached a stopping point, she breathed deeply, opened her eyes, and found Saam slow-clapping on the couch. A blush crept over her. It always did when she lost herself in the music and time ceased to exist outside of her words. “Sorry…I…” she started, only to have him raise a hand to stop her.
“Don’t apologize. That was beautiful. Your range is impressive.”
“Oh, I’m rusty.”
“Then I’d love to see you…polished.”
She was nervous, standing in front of him, knowing his eyes had found nothing but her body the entire time she’d been singing. And damn if the thought didn’t make her thighs twitch again. “Your turn,” she said, taking her place on the couch and crumbling more Oreos in her milk. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“I thought you preferred dare?” she asked. Only the tone was way too teasing. Way too tempting. What was she doing?
“I like to dip a toe in first.”
“Okay.” Lorie crushed a spoonful of Oreos. “What’s your biggest fear?”
“Is that really your question?” he asked as if she was wasting it. Yes, it was a softball question for the game, but how could she have ever guessed she would be eating Oreos and playing camp games with Saam Sherazi? There was zero time to prep good questions.
“Does the truth scare you?” Lorie pretended to shake with fear and giggled. “Oh no…wait…it’s something weird, I bet. Clowns?” she guessed.
“Ha-ha. My biggest fear…” Saam looked up, thinking, blowing a slow breath through his lips so they vibrated in the silence. “Every physician worth their salt shares the same fear—missing something and losing a patient because of it.” He leaned forward, interlocking his fingers and leaning his elbows on his knees, looking at his hands as he continued. “To practice effective medicine, you have to emotionally disconnect from a patient to see the full picture—each one is a unique puzzle to solve. But, you can’t distance yourself so much that you quit caring. It’s a razor thin line. One I’m still trying to locate.”
“I would never think you were the type to question your abilities as a doctor. You always seem so…certain.”
“Thank you.” Saam acknowledged the compliment with a small nod. “But I question myself every day. I reread my notes and charts, just to be certain I haven’t missed anything. We live in a litigious society, but more than that, people seek me out to fix what’s wrong with them. I have to give that the importance it demands.”
“Once again why you don’t allow reps to distract you.”
Saam inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttered to her and then away. “No, distractions could cost me my career.”
“And here I just thought you were an asshole.” Lorie chanced a quick glance to be sure he knew she was kidding. “Durden has trained us to get in front of the doctor, no matter what.” Lorie shrugged. “That’s not fair to you when you explain things the way you just did. I understand your reason for not wanting me there.”
“But I actually do…want you…in my office now.” Saam rolled his shoulders back and forth, shaking his head when he realized what he’d said. “I think you care about the patients, too. Most reps don’t.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
Only a few years separated them.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never met a twenty-eight-year-old whose judgment I admire more than yours. I would seek you out to fix me,” she echoed his earlier words. “You’re a good doctor.”
“Thanks.” Lorie could tell her compliments made him uncomfortable. Where was that coming from? “But, I’m not that special. Maybe you’re hanging out with the wrong people.” Saam reached for more Oreos, and Lorie’s nostrils flared at the insinuation, even if he was teasing her. Until she remembered that she did have a thing for assholes.
“Touché,” Lorie answered.
Saam stood and walked to his room. Lorie sat up. Confused. Where was he going? She wasn’t ready for the game to end. He didn’t shut the door behind him. Didn’t even turn on a light. But resurfaced from the room’s dark recesses a moment later with a bottle in hand. Lorie’s eyes went wide.
“Wine? At a kids’ camp?” she asked, staring at what she assumed was more contraband.
“What? I knew I wouldn’t be in a camper cabin.”
“But what if you get called for an emergency?”
“I have one glass every evening. One glass will not affect my medical abilities at all. Besides, it’s heart healthy.”
“Does Alice know you have it?”
“I don’t recall having to declare every item in my suitcase when I checked in.” Saam smiled and chuckled. “Would you like a glass?” Saam went for the Styrofoam cups by the coffee maker.
“Yes.” Maybe it would help her sleep, because being feet away from her crush certainly wasn’t going to.
“Truth or dare?” Saam asked, passing her a cup of wine.
“Truth.”
“Who do you think about when you sing that song?”
It wasn’t a question she was prepared for. How could you ever be ready for a question like that? It was personal. Her heart kicked up a notch in her chest. If Saam hadn’t just been so honest with her, she would’ve hidden her truths a little better. Seeing him in a new light made part of her want to share.
“Him,” she answered before thinking too much about it.
“Who is him?”
“The man that will be the love of my life.”
“How do you do that if you haven’t met him yet?”
Lorie shook her head.
“I don’t see a face when I sing. I close my eyes and feel him. If that makes any sense.”
“Go on.”
“I don’t think it matters, what he looks like. What matters is what it feels like. I know the effect I want him to have on me—mind and body. I guess it’s method acting in a way. I’ve always tried to put myself in that state of mind, imagining what my body becomes when I’m in his arms…” Lorie trailed off because the blush that now slid into her cheeks was impossible to hide.
Talking to Saam about the way she wanted a man to make her feel felt naughty. There were things she dreamed a man might do to her body one day, and an overwhelming part of her began to wonder what his hands might do to her.
“Dare,” Saam said suddenly. Breaking her out of the lusty places her mind had wandered.
“Um…okay…” Lorie paused, trying to come up with something on the fly, because how was she supposed to predict her evening would wind up with Oreos, wine, and Saam Sherazi? Playing truth or dare? “Get your phone.” She waited for him to do it, moving closer so she could watch to be certain he did exactly as told. “Send a message to the last person you texted that says, ‘I can peel a banana with my toes.’ ”
Saam swiped through the apps on his phone until he came to the messages. He grimaced when he saw the message’s recipient but didn’t try to get out of it.
Once the text was sent, he covered his face with a hand and groaned. “She’s going to think I’m a total idiot.”
“Who was that?”
“My receptionist-slash-office manager. One who already thinks there’s something wrong with me because I’m not married.”
“Ashley? She seems to have the same opinion about me. I’m beginning to think it’s her.”
“Wait a minute.” Saam looked back at his phone, the screen illuminated with a new message.
After shaking his head with disbelieving humiliation, he showed Lor
ie. It was two emojis—the banana and the monkey.
“She’s totally going to tell your gossipy nurses about that Monday morning.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. She wants to set me up with her daughter, she might use it as blackmail.”
“Her daughter?” Lorie asked, trying to ignore the tightening in her chest.
He made a pitiable grimace.
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“I thought you liked dare?”
“Technically, the text put us even. I haven’t sang my pageant song for anyone but Brad in years. That was huge for me.”
“Good point, who’s Brad?”
“That’s my question?”
Saam nodded.
Lorie smiled sheepishly. Number one: How in the heck did Saam remember Brad? Number two: Was she ready to give up her secret dating weapon so easily? Guys always assumed Brad was an overbearing brother/roommate they didn’t want to mess with. It came in handy sometimes. Lorie shook her head. She couldn’t believe she was doing this.
“Brad is my dog.”
“Your dog?”
“My dog.” Lorie crossed her arms over her chest unapologetically.
“You realize people think he’s your boyfriend, the way you talk about him.”
“All I said was that he is a good friend. Which he is. The dating scene in Atlanta sucks. Having ‘Brad’ waiting at home has gotten me out of some truly awful blind dates.”
“I’m not judging.”
“Truth or dare?” Lorie asked before they lingered longer than she liked.
“Truth.”
Lorie was so much better at making up dares.
“Hmmm…what’s your best blind date? After last night, I need some assurance they can still happen.”
“What happened last night?”
“Don’t ask.” Lorie waved him off, determined it wouldn’t ruin another night.