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Or talk to me. Dex understood Ashley’s concern. He wasn’t the best influence.
“I know you said you were young when you had her?—”
“Pregnant at twenty, twenty-one when she came screaming into the world. Which makes me thirty, in case you’re trying to work it out.” Color climbed her throat, flushing her cheeks. “Not that you would be trying to work it out. I don’t even know why I said that because our ages in relation to each other are not at all relevant. That was—I don’t know what that was!”
He’d figured she was older than him, but purely because of the way she carried herself. Five years was nothing but there was a chasm of life experience.
He made her nervous, which he was used to with rabid fan girls but not with real women. That’s what Ashley was—a real, authentic woman who would usually not give someone like Dex the time of day but for some reason, was skittish around him.
Christ, that turned him on.
“I was going to say that you look amazing.”
Gone was the playful vibe. Stupid, Dex, so stupid.
“For the mom of a nine-year-old?”
“It’s not like you’re a gnarled crone.”
“Willa would like that word, both of them. I’ll have to tell her Dex O’Malley thinks I’m a gnarled crone.”
He shifted closer to her, watching how her chest lifted on a quick inhale. “I specifically said you’re not. And if you were, I guess it means I have a thing for gnarled crones.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What exactly are we doing here?”
“The charming ritual known as the mating dance?”
She battled her smile. Valiantly won the fight.
“Dex … I think you might have the wrong idea. If I’ve given you any reason to assume I’m available …” She trailed off.
“So I offered you a no-strings fling and you turned me down. Fair enough. That doesn’t make you a tease, even if your cute cat whisker boots and peasant blouse game do strange things to me.”
Those gorgeous green eyes blew wide. “You think I’m teasing you with my clothing?”
He held up a hand. “I’m not blaming you! This is just me being honest about what I like about you and your outfit choices.” He grimaced. “Should probably keep that to myself, huh?”
“Perhaps. It’s not really the place for it.”
Right. Her place of work. Kid on the premises. The supervisor thing. How he was supposed to be a good boy.
“Got it. No more propositions for torrid affairs or talk about my sordid past or commentary on how your collarbones are really accented by the cut of your blouse?—”
“Dex!”
But she was laughing and he joined in, and the way their laughter blended lit him up because it sounded so fucking good. What he wouldn’t do for more of that.
More of this.
Her phone buzzed and she took a quick look at a notification on her screen, maybe that app she was on.
“Someone who wants a date?” It came out like a growl, but she was too distracted to notice.
“Maybe.”
“So how does it work these days? On the apps?”
“Well, there are a slew of them out there, but the one I’ve been using doesn’t have photos. It’s called Skin Deep, and it’s supposed to focus on compatibility without looks getting in the way.”
