He really needed to get out of bed before Alistair woke up.
Thank heavens, Alistair chose that moment to sleepily roll over the other way. Freed, Sam snatched up his robe from beside the bed, pulling it on even as he slid out from under the covers. He then fled to the bathroom and a cold bath without a backward glance.
When he stepped back out, he discovered Alistair had rolled over again and had his face pressed into Sam’s pillow. At the sound of the door opening, Alistair jerked up, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Oh! Good morning!”
The sight of Alistair amid the tangled sheets, his black hair in disarray, undid the effects of the cold bath. “I’ll make breakfast,” Sam said hastily.
Alistair yawned and stretched. The hem of his pajama top rode up, exposing a tantalizing strip of skin. “Let’s go out. My treat.”
“Are you sure?”
“Just give me a few minutes to put myself together.”
The problem with having the bed in the living room was that it didn’t leave anywhere to retreat to. Sam sat on the edge of a chair, while Alistair climbed out of bed, picked up his pack, and disappeared into the bathroom. When he emerged, the stubble was gone from his jaw and he was dressed except for his tie and unbuttoned collar. “It’s late enough to get lunch if you’d prefer it,” he said as he fastened his collar.
Sam tried not to stare at the skin disappearing inch by inch. “That’s fine.”
Alistair finished off his tie with expert hands. “Wonderful. Let’s go.”
On the brief walk to the chop suey parlor, Alistair hoped the brisk wind might sweep away some of his mortification. He’d truly made a fool of himself this morning, and thank God Sam seemed unaware of it, because Alistair didn’t think he could face the man otherwise.
He’d half-woken sometime around dawn, in his human form. To his sleep-addled brain, it had seemed a good idea to curl into the shape beside him, press his nose into the nape of Sam’s neck, and breathe.
He shouldn’t have done it, he knew it even then. But it had been so long since he’d just touched someone for the pleasure of it. Even longer since he’d had the comfort of doing it in a bed. It was just supposed to be a few moments, just enough to ease the ache of his skin.
But of course he’d slid right back to sleep, comforted by Sam’s warmth. Only to wake hours later at the startled hitch of Sam’s breath, with his arm securely around the softness of Sam’s belly, the heat of his body making Alistair’s front wonderfully toasty. He ran cold, and Sam seemed to run hot, and apparently his sleeping body had decided they fit together.
It had felt so good, and he couldn’t blame his magic for it.
But this was temporary; it was always temporary and there was no sense pretending otherwise. Not to mention Sam hadn’t signed up to be groped in his sleep.
Burning with embarrassment, Alistair pretended to still be asleep and rolled the other way. Sam bolted out of bed in an instant, which said well enough that Alistair had been the only one enjoying the cuddle.
He should have gotten out of bed then. But when he heard Sam drawing the bath, he’d slid into the spot of heat Sam had left behind and pressed his face into the pillow. And then nearly been caught doing it when he started to doze off again.
It was just…physical comfort, that was all. The natural reaction to being in bed with an attractive man. It didn’t mean anything. And fine, maybe he liked Sam, a little, but just in a friendly way. That was it.
Inside the chop suey parlor, the warm, humid air was redolent with spices and sizzling meat. A Chinese waiter whisked them to a booth, then left them with the menus and a promise to return with a pot of hot tea.
Sam stared at the menu with a bewildered air. “What’s, uh, good here?”
Alistair leaned back. “You’ve never eaten Chinese food before?”
“They didn’t have any chop suey parlors in Gatesville,” Sam said with a small shrug. “It smells good—I’m starving—but I don’t know what to get.”
“Shall I order for us, then?”
“Please,” Sam said gratefully.
Alistair ordered the chop suey special for Sam and chicken chow mein for himself. “We’ll trade so you can try both,” he added when the waiter had departed.
While they waited for their food, he showed Sam how to use chopsticks. Sam wasn’t a natural, but he seemed determined, and insisted on using them to eat the meal when it arrived. His eyes widened when he finally succeeded in getting the first bite to his mouth. “It’s good!”
“It is,” Alistair agreed with a grin. It was nice to share things with Sam. He might be inexperienced, even naïve, but he took such clear enjoyment in trying new things that it made the experience fun.
It had been a long time since Alistair had anything that could be remotely described as “fun.”
He shied away from the thought. Sam’s Chicago experiment wouldn’t last forever, after all. “Have you heard back from your family yet?” he asked.
The dark cloud that passed over Sam’s face had Alistair cursing himself. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I just thought they’d reach out—but it’s none of my business.”
“I’ll probably hear from them eventually.” Sam paused while navigating the next morsel into his mouth. “It’s just…they’re probably really mad to find out I’m not dead.”
Alistair froze with the chopsticks half way to his mouth. “Did you say dead?”
“It was an accident!” Same protested. “I didn’t mean for them to think I was dead. They jumped to conclusions and thought I drowned in the river. And I just…never wrote to let them know otherwise.”
Alistair sat back in his seat, an incredulous laugh escaping him. “Fur and feathers, you’re telling me you didn’t just run off to Chicago, you faked your own death!”
Sam’s face blushed crimson. “Not really, I mean sort of, but…”
“No, no, this is amazing.” Alistair found he couldn’t stop laughing. “Sam Cunningham, you act like you’re this quiet, harmless fellow, when in reality you’re a scoundrel who pretended to be dead to escape his sordid past!”
“It isn’t sordid,” Sam protested.
“Mmm hmm.” Alistair leaned forward and propped his chin on his fist. “What did you do that you had to flee town? Get the mayor’s daughter in trouble? Seduce the parson?”
Sam turned absolutely scarlet. “Of course not! I just…I needed to get away,” he said in a rush. “Everyone kept saying I should have died instead of Jake, and I thought they’d be happier if…if I did.”
All of Alistair’s humor evaporated in an instant. He straightened, dropping both hands to the table. “What?” he asked, his voice going cold and flat.
Sam sighed, his shoulders falling. “I had an older brother, Jake. He was good at everything. Well, I mean, things like baseball and wrestling, you know. He was going to grow up and take over the family business from Dad. My parents were always really proud of him.”
Alistair felt a wave of dread building in his gut. “What happened?”