For some reason, my mouth thinks it’s a good idea to say, “Then I guess we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
JADE
Dylan’s eyesburn a trail into mine over the table, my pulse jumping higher.
He looks hungry. And not for lobster tagliatelle.
His gaze drifts south, settling on my mouth before dragging back up to my eyes. It’s a constant physical challenge not to fall under this sexy man’s spell and dismiss the warnings.
“My dear brother leaves a wreckage of broken hearts wherever he goes.”
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Dylan asks, his fingertips grazing the stem of his wine glass. My eyes catch on the letters tattooed over his knuckles. Instead of answering, I reach out and take his hand, unlocking his fingers so I can read the upturned word.
M O R E
My eyes lift to his. “More what?”
He places his other hand in front of me, spreading open his fingers.
L O V E,I read upside down.
The server steps in with two steaming, aromatic plates of lobster pasta, and we break apart.
After she leaves, I dig my fork into a juicy chunk of lobster. “Love more. You’re a romantic.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Come on, we both know you’re not a one-woman man,” I say teasingly, but there’s a hint of serious undertone.
Dylan covers his mouth as he chews. “Says who?”
"Says Hayley,”I want to reply, but uttering that name would dump a bucket of ice over this checkered tablecloth, so I revert to my safe place of being a smart-ass.
“Says the STD clinic?” I giggle against my wine glass, making it one hundred percent clear that I’m only messing with him.
Dylan shoots me a pretend scowl before suddenly digging into his pocket and pulling out his phone.
“I waskidding,” I say emphatically, but Dylan casually thumbs through his phone, then slides the handset toward me.
“Clean as a whistle,” he says, shooting me a victory smirk while I figure out what I’m looking at. It’s some sort of digital medical report that lists a run of sexually transmitted diseases, the words “not detected” printed beside each one. The date next to Dylan’s name at the top is recent.
Oh god. Good one, Jade.
“Don’t I feel like an asshole right now,” I mumble with flaming cheeks while returning the phone to Dylan. But when I brave a look at him, he’s still smiling.
“It’s all good,” he says. “You’re not the first to make that assumption.”
I lean forward. “I really was kidding.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Dylan genuinely looks unbothered, and I’m not sure what to make of that. It can’t be a good thing if he’s become completely desensitized to people making these sorts of judgments about him.
“So, you didn’t answer my question earlier,” he says, lifting his glass and exposing a strip of corded forearm beneath his rolled-up shirt. “If you didn’t have the store to think about, where would you go if you could go anywhere?”
I tilt my face to the ceiling. After putting all my effort—andmy money—into the store, it’s not something I’ve thought too much about.
“Italy would be amazing,” I decide. “That’s super high on my list, and I’ve always wanted to go to Isla de las Muñecas in Mexico.”
