Page 26 of Diving In
I make my way downstairs, one hand bracing against the banister. Crunchie’s waiting at the bottom, tail thumping against the floor, and even though crouching down makes my stomach lurch, I can’t resist him.
Sam’s sitting at the table, shirtless, wearing only a pair of tracksuit bottoms. It’s unfair that he looks this good after a night out. And that he’s topless.
His mum is sitting across from him, mug in hand, watching him with an expression I can’t quite place. She looks tired.
I shift awkwardly in the doorway, clearing my throat.
“Morning, Kath.” Angie’s expression smooths back into her usual smile. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
I blink at her as she bustles around the kitchen, moving far too quickly for my pounding head to handle.
“Umm, I’m OK.” I ease myself into a chair. “I think I’ll just have some water.”
Sam smirks. “Head feeling OK there, KitKat?”
I level him with a glare. “Fine, thank youverymuch.”
“Really?” He leans back in his chair. “You look a bit worse for wear.”
I scowl.
“Samuel,” his mum scolds, shooting him a look. “That’s no way to greet a girl in the morning.”
“I don’t know if sheisa real girl—I think she’s half bear,” he muses, taking a slow sip of his orange juice. “She was snoring all night. I’m honestly surprised it didn’t wake you and Dad up.”
“You’ll pay for that,” I warn, pointing an accusatory finger at him, cheeks burning but a smile tugging at my lips. “I don’t believe you. I don’t snore.”
“Sam, that’s not nice,” Angie says, though it’s completely undermined by the giggle she tries, and fails, to suppress. Within seconds, all three of us are laughing.
I grimace as my head throbs in protest, setting my glass down gingerly. Crunchie curls up around my feet, as if sensing my need for moral support.
“Now, what do you two want for breakfast?” Angie reaches for her apron.
My stomach roils but Sam doesn’t miss a beat. “Can I have eggs? Your spicy scrambled eggs are the best.”
“My secret recipe.” She grins and he smiles back at her.
His dimple actually makes an appearance. It’s not fair. How does he get to sit there with perfect abs, a dimple and freshly washed hair, while I feel like I’ve been crawling through the desert for days?
“I’m good, thanks,” I say weakly. “I might have some cereal later.”
As she reaches for a cupboard, I catch the slightest wince.
“Are you OK?” I frown.
“Yes, sorry, Kath. Banged my hip earlier.”
I slouch further into my chair, willing my headache to disappear. The moment I smell the eggs hitting the frying pan my stomach lurches.
“You know what? I think I’ll go for that shower now.” I quickly push back from the table. Sam’s laughter follows me all the way upstairs.
After a long, hot shower I start to feel human again. The scent of Sam’s body wash soothes away the last of my headache. By the time I’ve pulled on clean clothes, Sam’s footsteps thud back up the stairs.
“Oi, I’m changing!” I yelp.
He rolls his eyes. “You’re fully dressed,” he points out, already rummaging through his chest of drawers. “I need to grab a shirt before we go out. I showered before you got up.”
As if I need another reminder that he’s been walking aroundshirtlessall morning.
