This Is a Dark Ride by Melissa Harlow Page A

just…him.
    She flushed the toilet, thinking how terribly loud it sounded with him sleeping right outside the door.
    Sam was awake when she went out. He’d scooted back on the sofa, half lying, half sitting up. He blinked at her with bleary eyes.
    “Morning,” he mumbled. Dark hair spilled down into his eyes and over his broad shoulders. A sliver of sunlight from a small window by the sink drew a line on his bare chest. Did he know how beautiful he was? Probably. Men who looked like him had to know. He certainly didn’t have to worry about feeling insecure. That must be a good feeling. Maybe it wasn’t a feeling at all—insecurity was probably something a man like Sam had never given any consideration to.
    “It’s afternoon, I think,” she said.
    “How you feeling?”
    “Okay… A little sore.”
    “You have a lot of bruises. They always hurt worse the next day. I used to box. Just…you know, just amateur shit. I wasn’t very good. There were days after fights when I could barely move.” He smiled a little. “My shirt looks nice on you.”
    “I’m sorry. I needed something to put on.”
    “Don’t apologize. Like I said, it looks good.” He swung his feet off the couch and sat up, giving a pat on the dingy, stained cushions beside him. “Have a seat.”
    She felt nervous all of a sudden as she sat down.
    “Brody still sleeping?”
    “I don’t know. I guess.”
    Sam shook his head. “He could sleep twenty hours a day and still be tired.” Sam’s eyes had such a deep sadness in them; even when he smiled, his eyes never did.
    “He loves you,” Angel said, and guilt began to burn in her for kissing Brody. She hadn’t been a prostitute long, but apparently it had been long enough to distort her common sense. She’d been kissing Brody just a short while ago, and now she was sitting here thinking about how good Sam looked. Meanwhile Brody and Sam would be in that bedroom together if she wasn’t here like some wedge between them.
    “What?”
    “Brody…he loves you.”
    Sam linked his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Really? So, what are you? A hobby? A fucking pastime? If Brody loved me, he wouldn’t have spent the night screwing you.”
    “He didn’t. I kissed him, or maybe he kissed me, I don’t know. I do know that nothing else happened.” The confession made her feel a little better, but she’d had no business kissing Brody in the first place. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have…”
    Sam stared at her, like he thought if he just looked hard enough that he could see the truth. She wanted him to see. Brody did love him. Why he’d ever wanted her to kiss him made no sense, especially when he had someone like Sam. Whatever their problems, she felt in her heart that they loved each other. They belonged together.
    Why are you here? You are just in their way. Quit looking at Sam, quit dreaming . She should leave. Now. But the whole not having any clothes thing made it rather difficult to make a speedy exit. Maybe one of them had a pair of sweatpants or something she could borrow. She sat fidgeting on the sofa— stuck . That was it. She was stuck here.
    There was something else. Something that made her feel funny. Immediately, instinctively, something about Sam drew her in. Something beyond his drop-dead gorgeous looks and those soulful, sad brown eyes.
    “Nothing else happened between me and Brody.”
    “Not yet, huh?” Sam said. “Poor Brody. He’s losing his touch. It never used to take him that long. He’s rusty, I guess. He’s been wasting away on fucking drugs for too long. He does women, you know. That’s okay. I mean, I never said he couldn’t, so if I’m what’s holding you back, don’t worry about it.”
    “Actually, he asked me if I’d be with you.”
    The color drained from Sam’s face, and Angel looked down at her raggedy nails.
    “I told him I would…you know? Either of you. I pretty much owe him my life, so anytime