“Yeah, but I haven’t had time yet.” A yawn rises in my throat, and I cover it with my hand.
Dylan’s gaze trails over my face before he drops down to one knee in front of Ella. “You wanna put the new things away with me, monster? We can count how many things we each put on the shelf, and whoever gets the highest number wins. But we have to make sure everything goes in the right spot.”
She nods hard. “Yes! I’m gonna win! I’m gonna beat you, Uncle Pickle!”
Dylan offers me a tight-lipped smile as he gets up and guides Ella over to the boxes. He flips open the top one, and they carefully begin unpacking cartons of herbal tea like employees.
What is happening right now? It’s not like I don’t appreciate the help, but why is he here?
The three elderly men who play bridge at The Rocking Horse shuffle through the door, so I turn my attention to them while Dylan and Ella shift around in the aisles, murmuring to each other. When I overhear Dylan telling Ella that she’s up to number twenty-two and he’s still stuck on twelve, a smile hits my cheeks that I can’t help.
When I step into aisle two to put away a hot sauce that one of the old guys left on the counter, my gaze collides with Dylan’s. He tenses up, glancing away. At some point between now and last night, flirty, smirky, sexy Dylan has been replaced with someone much more serious-faced and guarded. Dread filters into my stomach at the thought that it’s because we had sex and now he doesn’t want to know me. But he’s here, helping in the store for reasons I don’t understand. Is he ticked off because I said I’d let him give me a ride home last night, then ghosted him?
The second that thought arrives in my mind, it refuses to leave. What I did was for self-preservation, but it was also rude. I know that. I should at least apologize…maybe try to explain.
When I spot Ella kneeling at the far end of the aisle, slowly and carefully setting pastel-colored boxes of herbal tea onto the empty shelf, I seize my chance.
I walk up to Dylan, who’s putting out jars of coffee, speaking under my breath. “Can I talk to you?”
He continues to stare at the shelf. “Sure. You want to text me, or…”
Okay, I deserved that.
I take hold of his arm and gently tug him out of Ella’s earshot, although we can still see her. I move in front of Dylan so his gaze falls on mine.
I inhale a deep breath. “I wanted to say something about last night.”
A line appears across his brow.
“I’m sorry I left so quickly. And I’m sorry I didn’t text you to take me home.”
My heart thumps harder as his eyes search mine. “Did you sleep here? Or did you call your buddy Nate?”
“Nate? Of course not. No, I walked home.”
His jaw pulses. “Youwalked?”
“I felt like some air.”
A look of hurt eclipses his face. “So, you decided it was better to walk home late at night, which isn’t fucking safe, rather than torture yourself with a few more minutes of my company.”
“Dylan.” My brow scrunches. “Don’t be like that. I really did have stuff to do at the store, and I was planning to text you, but then…” I swallow hard.
“Then what? You decided that what we did was a mistake? That it wasn’t fun after all?”
My heart picks up its pace as I gaze up at him, wishing he meant that the way it almost sounded. But that word he used…
“Of course it was fun,” I say. “But that’s the problem. That’s what this is to you:Fun.”
His brows lift. “Since when is fun a bad thing?”
“It’s bad if we’ve done something behind Hayley’s back—totally ignored her wishes—if it’s for no more than a bit of fun.”
“You know what? I think it’s time you stop using Hayley as an excuse.” He paces right up to me, his breath hot and trembling against my face. I don’t feel like pushing him away. I feel like grabbing his shirt and yanking his mouth to mine, but I resist. “You and I are adults,” Dylan says, staring into my eyes. “We can do whatever the hell we want. And Hayley might not like it, but she’ll get over it.”
“Get overwhat?” I find myself whispering. “A bit of fun? Because that’s not enough for me.” I hate how needy I sound, but it’s exactly what I am right now. I needto know if I’m just another name on Dylan King’s long list of conquests. I didn’t expect him to want even a second kiss from me, let alone this. It makes no sense.
His hand falls to my waist, his fingers clutching the slip of bare skin beneath my shirt as he brings his lips to my ear. “I’m going to forgive you for making me feel like total shit when you left me last night. I’m going to forgive you for making me wait up way too late for your text that never fucking came. I’m going to forgive you for making me think about you right until I fell asleep and the second I woke up.” His fingers tighten around me. “I’m going to forgive you for making me want youso fucking badwhen I feel like you’re already done with me. I’m going to forgive you for all that because I know why you did it.” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re doing what everyone else does and assuming the worst of me.”
