First Stepby Dallas Thompson
Ainsley sighed and leaned back against her chair, closing her eyes. It had been two days since she'd gotten back from her father's funeral. She sighed softly and rubbed her hands over her face. "Lord have mercy. . ." she murmured. Sam stepped into her doorway and watched her for a moment.
"Ainsley?" He asked softly. She straighted and opened her eyes immediately.
"What can I get for you, Sam?"
"I need the info on the ryder that Tyrone attatched to 176."
"Okay." She sighed and looked around. "Here," she said, holding it out.
"Thanks. . . You know, it's a Saturday night. Don't you want to be home or something?"
"I have work to do." She replied quickly. He nodded. "Well. . . Would you like to go grab some dinner?"
"I don't think so, Sam. I've really got a lot of work to do," she said again, casting a glance at her desk. He paused and swept his eyes over her tired appearance and exhausted eyes.
"Ainsley," he said, moving over to stand by her chair. "Come on. It's 10 on a Saturday night, you look exhausted, you haven't eaten, come grab a bite to eat with me." He grabbed her hand gently and pulled her up to him. She looked into his eyes. "You don't even like me, Sam. Why are you being this. . . Nice?"
"I never said I didn't like you!"
"Said, no. Shouted, yes." Ainsley was aware of how close Sam was standing to her, and how it made her heart beat just a little faster. She slowly began to recite, in her head, the list of reasons she couldn't like him. 'One. He's a democrat.' She thought silently, 'Two. He's. . . A. . .' She couldn't seem to remember the next thing on her list that she had prepared so carefully in her head. Sam nodded slightly. "So I did. . ." He said softly, his body only an inch away from hers.
She breathed in his scent, and regreted it immediately. He smelled so good. 'It shouldn't be legal to look and smell that nice,' she thought to herself. He had a spicy scent, something that matched his personality and his wit. She wanted him to kiss her. She raised her head, tilting it back slightly.
She could feel his warmth, and something else. . . The intensity that radiated from him. She didn't dare look into his eyes. No way. Ainsley was a sucker for nice eyes. He slowly lifted his hand and rested it on her shoulder gently, before leaning his head down and brushed his lips, ever so lightly, over her temple. "Go home, Ainsley." He squeezed her shoulder gently, then left quickly, leaving her standing there.
The End (for now)