BRADLEY, PENELOPE.
âItâs not my fault Iâm too photogenic to be hidden away in photo albumsâ Penelope bragged with an ease that she could only really muster around Sam. Of course she was arrogant at the best of times, but if any random stranger had overheard her then there was a danger that they would have taken things the wrong way. Whereas Sam knew all of her foibles well enough that nothing could be taken too seriously. And especially not when there was wine in question â no the minute the wine was being poured then she stopped being responsible for the words that came out of her mouth. âThough I suppose your niece is kinda cuteâŠâ she conceded with a half shrug before: âbut Iâm cuterâ. And in fairness, she couldnât argue with the benefits of casual relationships. After all, Penelope had long espoused the pros behind casual sex. Still, sheâd put those days behind her, enough that she could now see that there were numerous more positives to having one person in your life as opposed to whoever you called at 2am for a booty call. âYou know the rule Sammy, itâs only fun till someone catches feelings â and knowing your luck it would be you to catch the bastardsâ
Worst case scenario? Fixing her eyes on the man opposite her, she narrowed her gaze, trying to read between the lines. âWell I mean, that would be my sisterâ she mused, running through the rolodex of women in her life. âOr my mother. Please donât tell me youâre fucking my mother-â. Of course both options were extreme. They were on the other side of the country after all, though if anyone was flying back and forth it was Sam. Worst case scenarioâŠshe considered it again, narrowing the line of suspects to women within the town. And then it occurred to her; the worst possible thing in her mind would be to sleep with Sam. He was a very attractive man, but they had an entirely platonic deal and at this point they were too far over the line to ever consider crossing that boundary. But there had to be a crossover. Unless â âPlease donât tell me youâre banging Owen? I never had you down as a fan of the bikersâ. Though that would require Owen to have slept with Sam and truly, pigs were more likely to take over the human race than for that to happen.
âCareful. I told Ellie sheâs the most important lady in my life, donât let her know her uncle is a liar.â Samuel scolded playfully, head shaking. He was always meant to be an uncle, that much was evident from the very moment that Ellie had been born, and it was perhaps for the best that she came along before he was quite so gung ho to have a family of his own. He wouldnât deny that there was something nice about being able to return her to her mother at the end of every day, not quite ready for such constant responsibility. âIâm not catching feelingsâ Samuel retorted with a grimace. Certainly heâd been the fool in the past, but what was going on with Brooke was nothing more than sex â that was quite clear for both of them. After all, Sam had zero realistic interest in being the future step-father of Owen Fitzpatrickâs spawn.
â... Your sister is single again?â Samuel mused, far-off gaze showing he was actually contemplating the scenario. âTry as your mother might, Iâve managed to fend off her requests to see me in my sailor cap and nothing else.â Devilish smirk propped on his expression to be wiped away at even the thought of touching Owen, which had Samuel polishing off his glass of wine rather than give that suggestion a proper response. âNo, no. Not Owen. Just... the mother of his child.â Samuel added innocently, attempting then to flee for the bottle of wine left in the kitchen.
