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“The one you get when you’re contemplating doing something you shouldn’t.”
“You think you know me so well, huh?” I ask with a playful grin.
She lifts a brow. “Am I wrong?”
“Honestly? No. I was convincing myself I shouldn’t kiss you again,” I say as I stare at her mouth.
Marlow covers my mouth with her palm. “You can’t kiss me right now,” she blurts out.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m sick, and the last thing Lola and I need is for you to catch it. I suspect that you’d be a challenging patient, and I refuse to deal with your grumpiness when you’re stuck in bed for days.” She shivers at the thought.
I chuckle softly. She has a point. When I’m sick, I do have a tendency to be more irritable.
I lean in to press a kiss on her forehead. “I guess that will have to do for now. I want you to know that I do like you, sunshine.”
“I like you too, Dylan,” she murmurs.
The unspoken words linger in the air.
I’m not sure I’m in a place where I can commit to a relationship and Marlow can’t guarantee that she’ll still be in Aspen Grove six months from now. We’re in different stages of our lives, and if we knew what was good for us, we’d dismiss our feelings for each other entirely and move on. However, I can’t promise that if the opportunity presents itself to kiss Marlow again that I won’t take it.
She gives me a sleepy smile, barely able to keep her eyes open.
“Why don’t we get you back into bed?” I suggest. “I think you could use a nap.”
“I think you’re right,” she agrees.
I get off the bed so she can get under the covers. Once she’s settled, I tuck the blankets around her.
“I have to pick up Lola from school soon, but I’ll stop by later this afternoon to check on you, okay? In the meantime, call me if you need anything else.”
She places her hand on my forearm. “Thank you, Dylan, for everything—the soup, cleaning my house, washing my hair. I really appreciate it,” she says in earnest. “But don’t think for a second that you’ve got away with going all Cesar Millian on me by trying to train my dog.” She holds her hand out when I open my mouth to say something. “We’ll talk about it when I’m in a condition to win the argument.”
I chuckle at her joke. “You got it, sunshine. Now get some sleep.”
I lean down and give her another kiss on the forehead before turning off the bedside lamp.
As I leave her room, it strikes me that I haven’t checked my work email a single time since I’ve been here. And surprisingly, I haven’t wanted to.
19
MARLOW
WHEN I ENTER BREW HAVEN, I’m greeted with the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and toasted pastries. They host a weekly Sunday brunch, so the place is buzzing with activity, packed with patrons eager for their caffeine fix and a hearty meal.
I spot Quinn and Andi waving at me from our usual booth in the back corner.
Since I moved to Aspen Grove, we regularly come here on the weekends, but it’s been ages since we’ve all been together. I’m looking forward to catching up with Andi. Not so much to the interrogation I suspect Quinn has planned.
There’s not much of an update since the last time we spoke, aside from Dylan coming over to my house on Friday. After getting Lola home from school, he stopped by a second time that afternoon. He brought me dinner and took Waffles for another walk. After my nap, I had enough strength to get to and from the bathroom, and I convinced him I was okay to be left alone.
Dylan and I have exchanged a few texts, but I’ve kept mine brief, not wanting to interfere with his weekend plans. Johanna and Mike are back in town, so he and Lola spent yesterday at their house.
That doesn’t mean he hasn’t been on my mind. Memories flood my thoughts of his hands massaging my scalp as he looked down at me with a lust-filled gaze. I wanted nothing more than to ask him to join me in the tub, and the only thing that stopped me was being sick.
The logical side of my brain recognizes that there’s much more at stake than the mutual attraction between two people. We have Lola to think about, and our lifestyles are totally different. However, the emotional side of my brain is a lustful bitch, who wants nothing more than to march over to his house and demand that he kiss me again.
