Scott smiled. “How unoriginal of me. Where are Tabby and Nicole, now?”
Sam was surprised, then realised, of course he knew their names. He’d thrown expired dairy products at them. “Nix is in Adelaide and Tabby’s never in the same place for more than a month. Right now I think she’s in Bondi.”
“The hipster capital of Australia?”
“Yeah and if you could see her now, you’d know exactly why she’s there.”
They smiled at one another, that strange tingling feeling welling up in Sam’s wrists and hands. “So…you said you wanted to talk to my dad. What about?”
Scott took a long pull on his beer before placing it down with a thunk. “There’s no sensible way to say this, but I came to make you an offer on behalf of my father.”
Greg Sanderson’s face burst into Sam’s mind—dark-haired and mean. She hadn’t seen him for almost as long as Scott. The day he’d moved out, she and Nicole had bought a bottle of champagne and even their teetotaler dad had a glass. “He’s still kicking around, is he?”
“I’m afraid so.” Scott’s face was neutral but the heat in his eyes said the relationship between father and son was as strained as it had been that day he dragged Scott into the house for watching them. Sam felt a tightness in her stomach that had nothing to do with arousal. “Your dad doesn’t want to buy the house, does he?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what he wants.”
“No way.” Sam couldn’t believe Greg Sanderson’s nerve. He’d spent all her childhood and teen years trying to pry the house away from her dad and now he’d sent his son to keep the cycle going. What an asshole. “You can tell him from me that it’s never going to happen.”
Scott held up a palm. “I get where you’re coming from but you should know…”
Such big hands.Rough, too. Is that from rowing? Does he have abs? It felt like he might when we hugged. God, that voice. So posh. What would he sound like in bed? I bet he’s either super quiet or he talks complete filth. Jesus, why am I being like this? Concentrate.
“…and that’s why he’s under the impression your business might be, uh, struggling a little and he believes the time might be ripe to buy you out.”
Shit. That had been information worth hearing. Still, it wasn’t as though it would have changed her answer. Sam straightened up and looked her former neighbor in the eye. “We’re not selling, not for anyone. Silver Daughters is doing just fine.”
“Okay,” Scott said with a practised calm. “That’s just not the impression he’s gotten from your neighbors.”
“You mean the renters who are spying on us for him?” Sam shot back. “I know it doesn’t look the way it did when you were here ten years ago and yeah, maybe we could be pulling in more customers, but I don’t need you patronizing me, Galahad.”
“Two things.” Scott held up the equivalent number of fingers. “One, I’d believe what you were saying more if, fifteen minutes ago, you weren’t crying into my jacket and telling me everything was ruined.”
Sam gritted her teeth. “What’s the second thing?”
“You called me Galahad again. I don’t want to be overly familiar, Samantha, but I feel like I should inform you in the past ten years, I did in fact lose my virginity.”
The incorrect response to this information was jealousy and yet, much like her arousal at first seeing him, that was how Sam felt. Jealous. “Congratulations.”
His smirk said he knew what she was thinking, but that was impossible. She’d never shown any interest in helping him out of his goddamn virginity. At least not to his face. She herself had lost it at the first opportunity with Evan from Visual Arts—him sliding it in after all that awkward fingering in the back of his car. She hadn’t waited for Scott, shewouldn’thave waited for Scott, so why did it even—
“Another beer?” a passing bartender asked.
Scott frowned. “I thought it was bar service only?”
“Slow afternoon. You guys interested?”
Despite the fact that she had a quarter pint left, Sam said she did and Scott followed suit. Did he need to get drunk to hang out with her? She couldn’t blame him, even if the idea stung. They drained the last of their pints as fresh ones were placed in front of them and immediately picked up the new glasses. Liquid reinforcement, Sam thought. Or liquid courage.
Scott cleared his throat. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about knights or virginity…or our past. Can I just ask where Edgar is?”
Sam drank a fifth of her pint, suddenly exhausted. “He’s gone somewhere on a spiritual awakening, ‘let me teach you independence’ thing. He wouldn’t say when he’d be back.”
Scott blinked. “I see. So you have no idea where he is?”
Sam was relieved she didn’t have to explain her father’s eastern philosophy inspired eccentricities to another man in her life. Scott clearly still remembered him doing yoga in the backyard. “None whatsoever. I don’t know if he’s even coming home.”
“And the business?”