This is the fourth chapter of a story that will run all week.
Sam Snyder wasn’t the type to push. That was the first thing Jolene noticed about him.
He kept showing up at the Rusty Hammer, buying things in small amounts—first the fencing staples, then a new set of work gloves, later a coil of rope he probably didn’t even need. He’d chat with Rusty, tip his hat to Jolene, and leave without lingering too long.
But the looks lingered.
She’d catch him watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking, and more often than not, she found herself doing the same.
It took two weeks before he asked her something personal.
“You always this serious?” he asked one afternoon, leaning against the counter while she rang up his purchase.
Jolene glanced up. “You always this nosy?”
He grinned, slow and easy. “Just making conversation.”
She didn’t smile, but she didn’t scowl either.
“You ever go out for coffee?” he asked.
She hesitated. “Sometimes.”
“Maybe you and me could go sometime. No expectations. Just coffee.”
Jolene wiped her hands on a rag and sighed. “I got a little boy at home.”
“I figured.”
That made her pause. “Oh yeah?”
Sam nodded. “I’ve seen you with him. Over at the grocery store a few times. Cute kid.”
Something about the way he said it made her stomach tighten. Not in fear, but in something that felt like hesitation wrapped around hope.
“I don’t really date,” she finally said.
Sam tipped his hat. “That’s a shame.”
Then he walked out.
And damn if Jolene didn’t spend the rest of the day thinking about him.
In fact, she kept thinking about him the next day, too. Rusty came up to the counter while she was staring off in the distance, thinking about Sam Snyder. He startled her, which he hadn’t meant to do.
“I hate to ask, but I need you to take the dually over to the supplier in Crane and get a load of Sac-Crete. We’re plum out and it’s prime fence-post setting weather this weekend. I’d do it myself but I’ve got a load of cattle panels coming in I’ve got to help with. We’re stretched thin and you’re the only one I can spare to make the Crane run.” Rusty seemed genuinely sincere when he asked.
Jolene didn’t mind. She always liked driving the big ol’ Ford Dually. It gave her credit with all the guys at the hardware store. And it gave her time out in the real world instead of being stuck behind the counter.
This 1968 Ford F-350 dually was modified before Rusty bought it, at which time a cab from a 1972 F-250 was installed, the windshield and rear window were replaced, and a flatbed was fitted. The truck was finished in gold over beige and black vinyl, and powered by a 360 cubic inch V8 linked with a four-speed manual transmission. Additional equipment included 16″ wheels, power steering, power-assisted front disc brakes, a headache rack, amber clearance lights, a receiver hitch, a trailer brake controller, a Pioneer CD stereo, and a heater.
The heater never got any use, but Jolene cranked up the Pioneer every time she slid behind the wheel. The whole time she drove to Crane and back her thoughts were drawn to Sam Snyder.
The Courtship
It took another two weeks before she agreed to go for coffee.
The Dairy Twin was the place, just like it had been with Emory all those years ago. But this time, it felt different.
Sam asked about her boy. About her job. About the things she liked, the things she wanted. And for the first time in a long time, Jolene found herself answering, found herself wanting to answer.
One coffee turned into another. Then another.
Sam started stopping by the Rusty Hammer just to say hello.
Then he started showing up at the grocery store, offering to carry her bags.
Before long, Little Emory started expecting to see him, his face lighting up whenever Sam ruffled his hair or tossed him in the air like he weighed nothing at all.
And then, one evening, when Sam walked her to her door, he reached up, tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and asked, “You ever let a man kiss you, Jolene?”
She should’ve told him no.
She should’ve turned and walked inside.
But she didn’t.
She let him kiss her.
And after that, she knew she was in trouble.
The First Time
Jolene had told herself she’d never let a man into her bed again.
She had fought it, told herself that what was happening between her and Sam wasn’t real, that she was just caught up in the way he looked at her, the way he made her laugh when she’d almost forgotten how. But the truth was, she hadn’t felt this alive in years.
And when he kissed her that night, slow and deep, his hands sliding down the curve of her back, she knew there wasn’t any use pretending anymore.
Sam took his time, like he had all the time in the world to learn her, to taste her, to unmake every wall she had spent years building. He traced the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, his rough palms a perfect contrast to her soft skin.
She let him.
She let herself feel.
Her breath hitched when he pressed his lips to her throat, his stubble leaving a delicious scrape along her skin as he worked his way lower, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down the center of her chest. Her blouse slipped from her shoulders, his fingers making short work of the buttons until the fabric pooled at her elbows.
She hadn’t been touched like this in years—maybe never. Not like this. Not with patience. Not with purpose.
His hands were strong, practiced, but there was no rush in the way he explored her. He traced her ribs, skimmed the soft swell of her belly, before gripping the curve of her hips and pulling her against him, letting her feel just how much he wanted her.
Jolene gasped, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.
He took it as permission.
The rest of their clothes disappeared in a blur of fevered touches and teasing kisses, and then he was pressing her back into the mattress, his weight settling over her in a way that felt solid, safe, right.
“You sure about this?” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot and teasing.
Jolene could barely find the air to answer. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Stop asking and just—”
Sam swallowed the rest of her words with a kiss, and when he finally sank into her, she arched against him, a shuddering gasp spilling from her lips.
She had forgotten how good this could be.
How much she needed it.
How much she needed him.
Sam moved slow at first, like he was savoring every second, like he wanted to make this last all night. He kissed her deep, groaned against her lips as she rolled her hips to meet him, their bodies falling into a rhythm so natural, so right, she wondered how she had gone this long without it.
Without him.
She clung to him as the heat built between them, her fingers tangling in his hair, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he drove her higher and higher.
And when she finally shattered, her body tightening around his, Sam wasn’t far behind.
Afterward, he pulled her close, one hand splayed across her lower back, his fingers tracing lazy circles against her damp skin.
Jolene lay there, her heart still racing, her body still humming.
She knew she should be scared.
But for the first time in years, she wasn’t.
