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They were sitting so close together on the old floral-patterned couch in the Stevensons’ basement that Charlotte’s thigh was pressed against Sam’s. Charlotte couldn’t keep her thoughts on the movie. Not with the heat seeping through his plaid pajama pants and into her jean-clad skin.
She shifted, enjoying the way his long body tipped ever so slightly into hers when the old springs gave under her weight. He sat with one arm wrapped around his ribs. The way he sat most often since he’d been hurt, and his fingers were only inches away from hers. Every few seconds, she considered reaching out and brushing against them to see what he would do.
Something happened on the screen. Dan jumped, and a ripple of laughter moved through the group. Like the clueless kid who didn’t get the punchline, Charlotte joined too late, and Sam noticed.
A ripple of pain warped his features as he turned to her, tipping his lips to her ear. “Everything all right?” His warm breath tickled across her cheek, and she couldn’t quell the shiver that ran through her.
“Yeah, I’m good.” Charlotte forced her mouth into a smile. Her gaze wanted to drop and trace the curved edges of Sam’s lips, but she convinced it that it would be more prudent to stay on his face.
Good grief, when had she turned into such a sex-obsessed maniac? Her inner voice reared its head to answer. Charlotte liked to picture a frowning middle-aged woman, cigarette dangling from red-caked lips, who spat vowels like a machine gun. Cuz ya ain’t gotten laid in six months, Baker. Cobwebs are forming on your bits.
“Shut up,” Charlotte muttered, settling further into the couch’s embrace.
“Sorry?” Sam glanced at her in surprise.
“Not you,” she mumbled, blood surging up her neck.
Sam scowled and shifted his gaze from side to side, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Okay then.”
The basement door chose that moment to bang loudly open, spitting out someone who tripped over a cushion and swore in the near dark. Alice squeaked in surprise and grabbed Dan’s arm.
“Ack! Why is it so dark down here?” Sawyer recovered his balance and flicked on the lights, eliciting a round of protests from his gathered family. “Hey, are you guys watching a movie without me? What the hell?”
Dan growled and threw a pillow at his son’s head. Sawyer caught it and grinned. Then his gaze fell on Charlotte, curled up beside Sam, and his blond brows inched higher.
“Oh, man! Is this a double date?” Grinning his signature grin, Sawyer stepped behind the couch and put his arms around both their shoulders. “It’s about time.”
Charlotte’s face flamed again.
“Shut up.” Sam took a feeble swing at his little brother, then yelped in pain.
“What are you watching?” Sawyer circled the couch and plopped down in front of them on the floor, using his pilfered pillow as a seat.
“Psycho,” Dan muttered. The inflection in his tone implied the title was more for his son, less for the movie.
“I see what you did here.” Sawyer looked over his shoulder at Sam and winked. “The ol’ scary movie bit.”
“Nobody did anything,” Sam growled.
“Believable, that is your standard modus operandi.”
“Don’t pretend you know any Latin,” Sam snapped. “You’d had to have graduated for that.”
“Sam!” Alice popped up from where she reclined against Dan’s chest, methodically stuffing popcorn into her mouth. “Sawyer’s just teasing you because he missed you. And he graduated.” A mischievous smile crossed her face, and she added, “Barely.”
Sawyer chuckled, ignoring her dig, “No, Ma, I’m teasing him because he’s chickenshit.”
Sam growled and knocked a knee against Sawyer’s back. “You’re an idiot. Why are you here? Carmen sick of you already?”
“Boys.” Alice had not lost the use of her ‘mom voice’ since her children had grown up, and she brought it out, scowling at both of them.
Sawyer opened his mouth, but Dan’s frustrated roar drowned him out. “Would you two shut up! I’m watching a movie!”
“Better yet, I’ll leave.” Sam levered off the couch. Pain flared in his eyes, and Charlotte jumped up, hands raised to help him. He brushed her away and stepped around his brother with a grunt. “I don’t need any goddamn help.”
Sawyer jumped to his feet, “Sam, come on, man.” He tried to hook his brother’s arm, but Sam jerked away. Sympathy at what the movement must have cost him flared in Charlotte’s chest.
“You’re all only here because you feel sorry for me. Well.” Sam’s scowl fell on Sawyer. “Except you, I’m not clear on why you’re here. I don’t need your pity. I am fine. Chuck, it’s Saturday night, and we aren’t teens. Shouldn’t you have a date or something?” He didn’t look at her as he seized the railing and started his painful way up the stairs.
Anger and hurt prickled through Charlotte. She jumped to her feet, planting herself in front of Sawyer when he moved to follow his brother. “What is wrong with you! When are you going to learn to shut the hell up?” she demanded.
Sawyer had the good grace to flush. “I didn’t think—”
“Of course, you didn’t. That’s a habit of yours, isn’t it?”
From his corner of the couch, Dan slow clapped. Charlotte glared at him. She had had about enough of the Stevenson men for one night. The entire cantankerous, ridiculous lot. Alice stared at her. Mortification was painted on her sweet face in bright red. Charlotte met her gaze for a moment, sighed, and then turned to follow Sam.