Chapter 22
He wanted to give her space, time to write. But Dylan found himself missing Chloe, like a prisoner misses freedom. Not that he’d ever been in prison.
You are one lovestruck fool.There was no arguing that. And lucky for him, they’d be seeing each other later at dinner.
“I’m happy the storm didn’t cause the shop any harm.” Samantha stocked the bakery display at Destiny’s Brew alongside Dylan, who had been daydreaming until his sister’s voice brought him back.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Thanks for stopping by yesterday, getting it ready for business today.”
“No worries, I had some free time I wanted to kill.”
“How’s Chloe?” Samantha gleamed. “You’re really into her, I can tell.”
“She’s alright,” he said in a tone that would suggestcoywas his middle name.
Samantha snorted. “Alright? Dude, please. First of all, she’s a knockout. Second of all, she’s humble and as sweet as pie. I, personally love her.”
“Okay, Okay. She is pretty damn spectacular.” He grinned. “But Chloe’s only in Fortune’s Bay to write her book.” Saying that reality aloud struck him like an atomic bomb, the outcome of which could result in some painful casualties.
A busierthan normal day at Destiny’s Brew had Dylan occupied enough to help stabilize his brain, keep it from slipping into a Chloe coma, thinking of how good it felt to hold her close, the hundreds of kisses they’d shared. He couldn’t imagine how much he’d crumble inside the day she would have to hop on a plane back to San Francisco. Not when his feelings for her had grown full-bloom.
Now at home in his kitchen, music blasting in the background, Dylan shook his rump to the beat while he prepared spaghetti and meatballs. Expecting the blue-eyed beauty to knock on his door any minute, a sense of euphoria and nervousness crept up all at once. Speaking about her intentions for them going forward was on his agenda and frankly it had his stomach in knots.
The candlelit table was set, glasses filled with decadent red wine.
Tap. Tap. Tap.That rap on the door was music to his heart. Maybe even to his soul. He fumbled with the door’s locks, eager to let her in.
“Hi.” Chloe flashed that saucy lip curve Dylan swore he would never get enough of.
“Hey.” His eyes combed over her, sized up how alluring she looked even in jeans and a T-shirt. “I hope you like spaghetti and meatballs.”
“You bet I do,” he heard her say, as he led her to the table.
From the sparkle in her eyes, Chloe seemed intrigued by the candles, the food. “I was up all night writing and literally slept the entire day away,” she said, beaming at the food Dylan placed on her plate.
“And, did you make progress?” He sat across from her, sipped his wine.
“Completed the first draft.”
“Wait, are you being serious right now?” With her as sarcastic as he could be at times, it was hard to tell.
“Yep. Found my muse. Anyway, like I said, it’s only the first draft. I’ll spend the next few days rewriting before I get it off to Libby in San Francisco.”
San Francisco. Of course.“Congrats, I think that calls for a special toast.”
Dylan lifted his glass. “Here’s to finding your muse and getting it done.”
The two clinked glasses, ate dinner, and after clearing the dishes, cuddled up on the sofa in Dylan’s living room, each with a glass of wine in hand.
“So, three days working on perfecting the first draft, then what? You’re headed back to San Francisco?” Dylan played with Chloe’s sand-colored locks, twirling a strand around his finger. He asked the somewhat loaded question, unprepared for the response—whatever it may be.If she leaves, where do they stand?
Chloe blinked up at him, her lips pouting. “Yes, I would have to go back to San Francisco. I’d like to speak with Libby in person about my manuscript, especially since I’ve deviated from their request of adding a sexier vibe to the story.”
There went his bubble of pure freaking joy.Pop. Throat clenched, it was a miracle Dylan was able to dish out any words. “You’re ahead of schedule now; maybe you can come back to Fortune’s Bay, work on another project? I mean, seeing how the place has been rented for three whole months and all.”
Man, you’re totally sounding desperate.
