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Maeve raised a hand, as if to say “I know best,” but Ashley didn’t look happy. Maybe she still had feelings for her ex. Maybe this dating losers business was her way of trying to get over him.
Dex could think of a million better ways of doing that, most of them involving Ashley under him.
“So Dex, do you have annoying family you’d like to throttle?” Ashley smiled at him, trying to smooth over the awkward moment. Of course she didn’t realize she’d created another.
“No one nearby.”
Because she was the intuitive type, she knew she’d said the wrong thing and was clearly prepared to drop it when Vera asked, “Where did you grow up?”
“Chicago for a while, then Minnesota and a short spell in Canada.”
“Military family?”
“No, foster care.”
There it was, the embarrassed pause. His background rarely came up, so he’d forgotten what it felt like to be pitied.
“Like the kittens?” Willa was trying to work it out.
“I guess. A couple of foster brothers I wouldn’t mind throttling, though.” He winked at Willa, which made her giggle.
“So where are your parents?”
“Willa! Don’t pry.”
“But Aunt Vera asked him where he grew up.”
Ashley grimaced. “Yes, she did, but she shouldn’t have.”
Dex took a sip of the wine he’d brought. “They’re not around anymore. But I’ve survived.”
Willa put her hand over his. “You have your teammates. And Bandit.”
He could have laughed in her face. Fat lot of good they were. But instead he just squeezed her hand and nodded. “You’re right. I’m doing okay.”
15
“You don’t have to do the dishes.”
Vera had disappeared to ready herself for a date (read: banging session) and Maeve was on the phone with one of the book club divorcees. Willa was in her room doing her homework, and now Ashley was looking at the flowers Dex had brought and arguing with him about chores.
“But it’s just a matter of putting them in the dishwasher,” he insisted. “It’s the least I could do after that great meal. Which I’ll have to work off with an extra hour on the treadmill tomorrow.”
“Hmm, sorry?” Ashley picked up her wine and took a seat, prepared to savor the sight of a shining god doing household chores.
“No, you’re not. And you shouldn’t be. That lasagna was a beautiful thing.”
He rinsed a plate and placed it on the bottom rack, slightly askew, but she’d worry about it later. Hot guy, washing dishes, serving wine … she was in heaven.
She took a sip of the Merlot he’d brought.
“This is nice.”
He looked at her glass, then raised his gaze to meet hers. “So, you like the wine?”
That wasn’t what she meant but she went with it. “It’s lovely. Do you know much about wine?”
“Not a clue. But my teammate Burnett does, so he recommended this.”
