“Do you want red or white wine?” Mrs. Harris asks me.

“Whatever you’re having is fine with me. I’m not too picky when it comes to wine,” I say, and Mrs. Harris smiles and goes with a bottle of red wine. Sam hands me a plate and motions for me to go in front of him to get food.

“Where should I sit?” I ask when we get into the dining room.

“Next to me,” Sam says, eyes meeting mine. His gaze lingers for a few seconds, and then he turns, setting his plate on the table. I put my plate down as well and then turn to go back into the kitchen to get my drinks. I assume Sam is doing the same, and I almost walk right into him. I stop short and his hands go to my waist, fingers pressing softly into my skin.

My lips part and I tip my head up, meeting his gaze. He’s wearing a dark blue shirt today, matching the color of his eyes perfectly.

“I thought you might fall again,” he says.

“I…I might have. These floors are quite uneven.”

“I was thinking slippery.”

“Yeah. I’m not wearing socks,” I ramble. Sam slides one hand from my waist to the small of my back and turns his gaze from my eyes to my lips. The floor creaks behind him and I jerk back, moving fast and whacking my hand on the back of a chair.

How he’s able to get me turned on that fast with hardly touching me is a talent only Sam can possess.

“Do you want wine?” he asks.

“Yeah, like half a glass,” I say, remembering Farisha’s words. I’m not drunk from the little bit of rum, but I feel my head buzzing even more now that I had Sam’s hands on me again.

“Is this any good?” He looks at the label of Pinot Noir.

“I’m not familiar with that vineyard, but I’d say it depends. Pinot Noir is a dry wine, but it has low acidity which makes it smooth to drink.”

“Look at you.” Sam pours wine into a glass for me.

“I went to a wine tasting a few months ago with friends. We spent a weekend in wine country and tried to act cultured. That little tidbit about Pinot Noir is the only thing I remember. I made the rookie mistake of drinking the entire glass given to me instead of just sipping it. I was the only one out of our group who didn’t puke in the vineyard, though.”

“You had me fooled.” He slides the glass to me and pours a little bit for himself. “Pretending to work out when you’re really being lazy and acting like you know about wine.”

I take a sip of the Pinot Noir and give him a wink. “I’m all about the illusion of having shit together.”

“You mean you don’t?”

I let out a snort of laughter and turn, going back to the table. The others join us right after, and everyone bombards me with questions, just like Sam warned. I really do enjoy talking about writing and everything that goes along with it, especially when the people I’m talking to won’t pick me apart about it later. Or at least, if they do, they won’t post about it on social media, tagging me in every single critical post. And it’s another good distraction, because every time I look at Sam, I see him shirtless and sweaty, like he was in the woods. And if I catch his gaze, I swear he’s mentally undressing me in his mind.

“The most important thing,” Mason says, finishing his third—fourth?—beer, “is if the rumors are true.”

I reach for my own wine glass, heart jumping. “What rumor? There are a lot of them.” I smile nervously, feeling Sam’s eyes on me. What would he think if he found out I was in a fake relationship for years? I’m standing my ground with him on the basis that I’m not a “one-nighter” and I don’t do meaningless anything. The fake relationship wasn’t anything, though, but I’m not betraying Charles by saying so.

“The rumor that Cardi B is going to make a cameo next season.”

I let out a sigh of relief and suck down a mouthful of wine. “Oh. I hadn’t heard that one yet,” I laugh and set my glass down. “Next season has already been filmed, but I do love her. If she did make a cameo, I would probably die.”

“So you don’t have much control over the series?” Mrs. Harris asks.

“No. I’m lucky I have the control I do. Basically, I sold the rights to my series to the network. They’re in charge of everything, but my agent was able to have it written into the contract that I’m a ‘consultant,’ and since the series was so popular before the show, the producers know the importance of sticking with the original plot.”

“Holy crap,” Rory says. “It’s so amazing.”

“Nah,” I say, waving my hand in the air. “I just got lucky.”

“The Nightfall books are good,” Rory counters. “Kellie is the most relatable character ever, even though she’s a badass witch with powers.”

I always feel weird when the conversation takes a turn like it does. “I just wrote what I wanted to read. I never realized how many other people wanted to read it too.” I take another drink of wine and go through another round of twenty questions while we finish dinner.

And then the chaos Sam warned me about rains down on the household: Jacob tries to leave to go check on the animals at the clinic, but Mrs. Harris presses for him to stay for dessert, all while baby Adam cries hysterically and won’t let anyone but Rory console him. Mason and Mr. Harris get into a political debate, and something spooks the chickens, causing them to squawk so loud we can hear it inside the house. Thinking it might be the fox Mrs. Harris spotted a few days ago, Sam and Dean run out to deal with it.

Not wanting to get drawn into talking about politics or side with anyone—though I agree that Mason is right—I go upstairs with Rory and help her get Adam bathed and changed.

“I’m really glad you came over,” she tells me, checking the water in the bath before putting her baby in the little blue tub.

“Me too,” I say, getting the baby shampoo out of the diaper bag for her. “I can’t believe so many years went by without seeing you all.”

“It’s weird when you think about it.” She dips a soft blue washcloth into the water and gives it to Adam. He can hardly hold on to it, but it distracts him while she washes his fat rolls. He’s so chubby it’s adorable. “You were like my sister and then you just weren’t there anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you,” she rushes out. “Sam said you all lost contact, but I know something…something more had to have gone down.”

“Yeah, but it was a long time ago. And speaking of time…you’re married with a kid. That’s insane.”

She laughs. “It kind of is. I really thought I’d end up alone.”

Hah. I know the feeling. I’ve always loved Rory like a sister, and I’m happy for her. She and Dean are perfect for each other.

“I could have told you that was not going to happen.”

Rory puts her hand on Adam’s chest and looks at me, smiling. “I feel like I owe you so much, Chloe. You inspired me to be confident in who I am, even though I did inherit your nickname.”

“Which one?”

“Creepy Chloe. They called me Creepy Rory.”

My brows pinch together. “That doesn’t have a ring to it like Creepy Chloe does.”