Chapter 6
Dylan unlocked the doors to Destiny’s Brew the next morning, just as the Early Brew Crew approached, ready to get their coffee grind on.
Right on time.
It was this on-autopilot structured routine that kept his mind offthings.
Wake up. Get to the coffee shop. Go home. Repeat.
He didn’t rally for anything oranyonemaking waves, shaking up said routine.
The captivating woman he shared dinner and conversation with the evening before was sure to be a spitfire wave maker, routine shaker. Now, more than ever, Dylan needed to dial in on his main objective to keep Chloe Davenport at bay.
Six months he’d successfully steered clear of members of the opposite sex. Even when Samantha tried to hook him up with her new best friend, Mia, who had visited Fortune’s Bay straight from Orlando, Florida.
God, was it hard to turnthatsex kitten down.
Something in the low-lying depths of his gut made him reckon turning Chloe down would be that much harder. Thoughts he’d had about her after she’d left last night infiltrated his dreams as if he were caught up in a real-life adaptation of Inception. Then, there was the issue of her vanilla perfume. Lingering about his living room, that seductive fragrance harassed him like a relentless perfume spritzer at the local department store.
That’s what you get for inviting her in and asking her to stay for dinner.
Hmm. His conscience did fire off several warning shots. Only Dylan chose to dodge every single one of them. Pity.
“Hey,boss.” Samantha sneered, knowing the sound of the wordbossirked her brother more than chalk scratching the surface of a blackboard.
“Hey, what?” He didn’t try to conceal that his twin got on his nerves most days. It was a sibling sort of thing. Samantha had been riding his coattails, like he was Batman and she Robin since the day they departed the comfortable confines of their mother’s womb twenty-seven years ago.
“Where’s Tamale?”
Dylan served up a hearty grunt and an equally hearty eye-roll.
Tamale was the name of the beloved Harley Davidson he purchased on a whim, soon after he found Dick and Cynthia all but dry-humping that day he stumbled upon their shenanigans. He had come back to Boston early from his monthly trip to Fortune’s Bay, walked into the studio, hoping to lend a helping hand to his partner, who was supposed to be working on a scheduled photoshoot.
Evidently, he’d been working on Cynthia instead.
“I walked here.” Dylan bent down, pulled a box of pastries out of the reach-in cooler, set the unopened box on the counter.
Samantha blew out a chuckle as she ripped the plastic off the box. “You? Walked?”
Dylan flashed a combination side-eye blink.
Stepping closer, skillfully balancing on tiptoes, Samantha placed the back of her hand against his forehead, her eyebrows snapped together. “You all right, there, bossman? You don’t seem flushed. Maybe a tad deranged? Leaving Tamale behind to walk…well, that’ssonot you.”
His twin’s assertion was annoyingly spot on. Wait. Not the deranged claim.
Dylan had grown rather fond of his rides on Tamale, everywhere and anywhere in Fortune’s Bay; even the short one-mile stint to Destiny’s Brew was what dreams were made of.
Riding Tamale made him feel lax.
Chill. Calm.
But the down-to-the-nitty-gritty truth was simple: he didn’t want to wake up the sultry neighbor he was trying to keep away from. Besides that, he wanted to avoid another scolding about the noise his bike made. Although, seeing Chloe in that T-shirt, her hair messy-hot, wouldn’t really be such a horrible thing.
On second thought, yes, it would be.
“The Early Brew Crew walks here every single day, Sam. Walking’s not exactly a new concept here in Fortune’s Bay.”
“So, you’re awalkernow?” She stood with a wide grin, backside to the counter, arms folded, in full-on smart-ass mode.
