the moment, I said nothing.
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at your apartment? What happened? Chloe, are you alright?”
At the open concern in his last question, I burst into tears. I could have held out against anger, but I had no defenses against worry. Not from Sam. I clapped my hands to my eyes trying to stem the flow of tears and calm my hitching breaths when I heard him swear and get up. A moment later he was sitting beside me, pulling me into his arms.
My head fell against his chest and I melted, giving up for the moment on trying to be strong. Sam was here. As long as Sam was here, I was safe. At least for right now.
I’d been Sam Logan’s assistant for three years and had been head over heels in love with him for almost all of them.
Sam was smart. Handsome in a way that meant he looked equally good dressed for the construction site as he did in a suit. And he couldn’t have been less interested in me. He was a great boss. A good friend. And I knew he cared about me. He had to, otherwise why would he be sitting here letting me cry all over him? But he’d never love me.
I knew that. I’d watched him date a succession of tall, slender, dramatically beautiful women over the years in a series of casually monogamous relationships. And having seen every one of his girlfriends up close at one time or another, I knew why he’d never look at me.
I was a nice person. I was loyal, caring, and fun. But I wasn’t tall, skinny, or beautiful. I guessed I was pretty enough. I’d had a few boyfriends who seemed to think so.
My hair and my skin were my best features. My skin was smooth and almost pore less. I’d tell you what moisturizer I use, but it wouldn’t help since it’s been this way my whole life, no matter what I put on it. And while my hair was a boring light brown, it was shiny, with curl and body. The rest of me was a bit of a let down. If I was feeling generous, I’d call myself curvy. Very curvy. Most days I just felt plump. And I was kind of short. If you picture the opposite of Sam’s tall, slender, model girlfriends, you’d get me.
So we were friends, but that was all we’d ever be. Most days I was okay with that. I really hadn’t dated much in the past two years, once I finally admitted to myself how I felt about Sam, because every other man just didn’t measure up. Right then, terrified and tucked safely into Sam’s arms, I wasn’t regretting that he’d never love me. I was just grateful he was there.
When I’d run from the back patio of my apartment and snuck to where I’d parked my car on the street, I’d considered going to Sam. But I’d thought he’d said he’d be out tonight. And I didn’t want to tell him what was going on until I had a chance to think it through myself. Too late for that now.
My tears gradually faded, and I forced myself to pull away from the heat of Sam’s arms. He smelled like spice and citrus. Masculine and strong. Sexy. I wiped at my face and told myself to focus. Yes, Sam is hot. I know that. I see him every day, and every day he’s hot. It was not the time to get distracted by how good he looked. And smelled.
Trying to get a little distance, I stood and moved to sit in the arm chair facing the couch. Sam scowled at me again.
“Tell me what’s going on Chloe. Now,” he said, clearly out of patience.
“Nolan is missing,” I admitted. “He didn’t come home Saturday night, and he’s not answering his phone. I thought maybe he was just-”
“Being typically irresponsible?” Sam said in a dry tone.
Sam wasn’t a big fan of my brother. He thought Nolan needed to grow up and stop leaning on me. Sam was probably right. But he didn’t understand our relationship. I ignored Sam’s comment and went on.
“I got home after work tonight a little later than usual and I had to park a few spots away. I was going in the back because it was closer and I had groceries when I saw people in my apartment. I almost went right in because I
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