Page 44 of Parentmoon

“Mornin’ darlin’.”

His rugged voice shivers up my spine. “Good morning. You’re awake early.”

“Seems the older I get the less I can sleep at night.”

I weakly smile. “I feel lazy compared to you.”

“You’re on vacation, Jojo.” He gives me a tender smile, but I sheepishly look away at the reminder this is only a fling. My skin prickles again with thoughts of what we’d done last night.

Dallas is off the couch and rounding it before I make it to the kitchen.

“What’s that look about?” he asks, catching my wrist before I can pick up a mug for coffee.

“No look.” I glance up at him but quickly look away again.

“Exactly,” he huffs. “You aren’t looking at me.” Two fingers meet my chin and gently force me to face him.

“You ashamed about last night?”

My brows pinch at his question. “No, not ashamed, just a little embarrassed, maybe?”

“Embarrassed?” He scowls, clearly not liking the word.

“Maybe embarrassed isn’t the right word. Our . . . position . . . just felt . . .”

“What?”

His gruff voice has me tightening my shoulders. “Intimate.”

His eyes widen and then the edge in his expression softens. He gives me that damn smirk, like he knows a secret. “Thank you for trusting me.”

I should be thanking him. He didn’t want to have sex with me when we’d had too much to drink. I appreciated his concern for my feelings, but drunk Jo was a horny Jo.

“Take a run with me this morning.”

“Pass.” I laugh, feeling a little bit of my tension slip away. “But you do you. Go running.”

Dallas peers over to the sliding glass door. “You have shoes.”

“I don’t run. Don’t want to feel all this flapping together.” I wave around my midsection covered by his T-shirt.

“Don’t.” His voice roughens, firm and sharp. “Don’t be like that about yourself.”

I sigh. “I’m not. It’s just my boobs are too big, even with a sports bra. And I’m not all tight in my middle like you. I don’t like to feel everything jiggling as I jog.”

“Stop.” His tone is even harsher. “You’re fucking perfect.”

I don’t know about that, but his eyes warn me not to argue.

“Take a walk with me instead, then.”

“Fine.” My own tone isn’t quite as harsh as his but still biting.

Dallas cups my jaw and brings my mouth to his, and with one kiss, all my concern about last night and the silly tension of this morning melts away.

+ + +

As we meander down the shore, Dallas explains the environmental impact of the seagrass collecting on the beach and how some resorts give up on controlling it while others, like the one his house is connected to, use the grass as backfill for construction.