Premiere: A Love Story by Tracy Ewens Page B

into a headache. Sam closed her eyes.
    “She sleeps. . . .” Peter whispered a few minutes later.
    Shit! Sam thought and cracked open her eyes expecting to see the two of them looking like kids sneaking home after a night of revelry, but it was only Peter. He was leaning in the doorway with his jacket over his arm like someone propped him there.
    “What are you doing? Where’s Grady? Tell me he’s not . . .”
    “Bathroom,” Peter answered while leaning to point down the hall. He almost lost his balance and swayed back, grabbing the door molding to steady himself.
    “Whoa, that was a close one,” he said, now brave enough to walk toward Sam.
    She was still unsettled and upset about the scene in the play, but damn if he wasn’t sexy and smoldering as he threw himself into the chair next to her. His eyes were heavy and his navy jacket, probably linen, dropped on the floor. Peter rubbed his hands over his face, stretched his long legs, and crossed them at the ankles. His hair looked like he may have taken a nap in the car ride over.
    Peter closed his eyes, and Sam allowed herself to notice, once again, that Peter had grown up very nicely. How could she hate him and want to drag him to the floor at the same time?
    “Tough night?”
    Peter opened one eye and turned toward her. She couldn’t help it, she smiled.
    “We, there was this thing. Grady came by the theater and said we should go, he invited me, said we could blow off . . .”
    “Some steam? Oh, Peter, you fell for that? Hmm . . . you have been gone too long.”
    “I know. I know, but he’s so damn persuasive, and I felt wound up. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but how do people do this all the time? I only had four, maybe five, beers. I should be embarrassed. I love the fact that my face is completely numb along with my brain, but the spinning . . . what kind of a man admits to spinning after only four beers?”
    Peter closed his eyes again and rested his head. He looked wrinkled and tired, but a little reckless. It was different. Sam found herself forgetting that she hated him.
    “I should get back,” she said.
    “Yeah, I was going to ask you why you were hiding in here,” he said, eyes still closed.
    “I’m not hiding. I needed to take a break, but I should get back.”
    Sam stood, and Peter opened his eyes.
    “The shower sounds great. We heard a lot of happy giggling while we were sneaking up the stairs. You’re not having a good time?”
    “No. I mean, yes, I’m having a good time. Your sister’s fun and clearly very much in love. Mrs. Malendar is in charge of the whole thing, so of course it’s scary perfect.”
    Sam let out a laugh.
    “Right, that’s the well-rehearsed token answer, Miss Cathner, so why are you sitting in the study?”
    “You’ve definitely had five beers.”
    “True, but that’s not why you’re in the study.”
    “Christ, Peter, I needed some air, a breather. Aren’t you worried about Grady? Where . . .”
    “I make it a habit never to worry about Grady. He’s probably taking a little nap or he’s downstairs. Now that would be worth the price of admission. I’m pretty sure he’s dated half the women at the shower.”
    He laughed and then put his hands to his head. Laughter erupted from downstairs, and they could hear Cynthia shouting answers to the next game.
    “Oh boy it’s starting to get rowdy,” Peter mocked.
    “I’m heading back down. Will you be all right?”
    “Probably not for some time, but I’m going to sit here until someone finds me or the room settles down.”
    Sam walked toward the door.
    “Sam, you don’t need to leave yet, they’re still playing stupid games. You’re not into that.”
    “Oh really, how do you know what I’m into? It’s been four years.”
    “I know.”
    His eyes were closed again, and he sounded a little sinister. When she walked back toward him, the corner of his mouth turned up.
    “Still know how to piss you off, don’t I?”
    “You are quite good