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He shook his hair, and the water droplets landed on my bare arms. “What are you doing?” The cold water brought a shiver down my spine as I wiped it away.
“What do you mean? I’m drying off,” he said as he continued to run his hand through his hair, propelling water all over the place.
“What like a dog?” My temper flared, cheeks heated.
“Do I look like a dog to you?”
“The way you shake your head all around, you do.” I crinkled my nose at him as a barely there smile broke across his face.
“Does it turn you on?” he asked, shaking his head over me. He laughed as the water from his hair rained down over me.
“You wish.” I pushed him further away as someone clearing a throat behind us broke us from our fight? Flirting? Moment?
I wasn’t quite sure what to make of what happened between Theo and me. He knew how to push my buttons, yet at the same time he knew how to make me laugh.
“Mr. Sullivan, there’s a telephone call for you from a Mr. Chevy,” Henry said.
Theo’s expression changed drastically, gone was the laughter and playfulness, and in its place a sour mood took over.
Chevy? Dex Chevy? My Dex?
Did Dex know everything Theo and I did? Fingers shaking, nerves erupting inside me, I couldn’t concentrate. I rushed to my phone hidden away in my purse and checked the display screen to see if I had any missed calls or texts—nothing.
With an uneasy feeling, I continued my shift as I served customer after customer.
After Theo returned from his phone call with Mr. Chevy, who I was still convinced was Dex, he wouldn’t even look at me. Which made me more and more concerned.
I didn’t want to ask, but the curiosity was killing me.
Before I had a chance to confront Theo, he left. At the end of my shift I packed up my belongings and headed out through the front wooden doors.
The storm all but dissipated, leaving in its wake a humid, muggy night. My hair frizzed to an ungodly mass of madness. I clutched my phone in both hands waiting until I was in my car to dial Dex’s number.
Sliding into the front seat, I took a deep breath. After tapping the screen to call, I waited.
Nothing, straight to voicemail. Fucker turned his phone off. What was going on? I left the shortest message imaginable and headed home, defeated.
Whatever would happen, would happen—I felt I deserved it.
As I turned the corner of my street, I saw Dex’s car parked in the driveway of my concrete block duplex.
He waited on the front porch steps, red roses in one hand—which I hated—and a box of chocolates in the other. He smiled.
“You know chocolate gives me hives,” I said as I approached him.
His dark hair crumpled against his forehead while his blue eyes held mine.
“They do? I never knew.” His answer was almost believable, except, I told him—probably more than fifty times at least.
“Why haven’t you returned any of my calls? Why haven’t you just plain called?” I wan
ted to fire off more questions but felt we should move our heartfelt reunion inside instead of on the front porch for all of the neighbors to see. He followed closely behind me to the kitchen.
“I was busy, Penny,” he said as he tossed the flowers and chocolates on the island bar.
Picking the roses up with both hands, I brought them to my nose and took a whiff of their scent before plopping the arrangement back down on the marble counter in the same manner he had.
“Too busy for your girlfriend?” I challenged. There was no excuse for not calling, and I had every right to be pissed. He wasn’t going to downplay my feelings again.
