Page 103 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

36

JANNA

We sat at the small table in Dalton’s cabin drinking coffee and eating the toast and eggs Dalton made. It was all very cozy. Domestic, almost. I was wearing one of his shirts and my panties while he sat in his boxer briefs.

We’d been up late last night getting our fill of one another. When I woke up this morning, all I could think about was how right it all felt. And then we got up and he made breakfast while I made the coffee. It felt like we’d been working in tandem for years. It was easy. I kind of liked the no expectations thing. I smiled and took a sip of my coffee. It felt right.

“Need a refill?” I asked and got up to get myself another cup.

“Please.”

I took his cup and refilled them both. I gave him his and then realized I probably had some serious morning breath. Now, it was morning breath with coffee and eggs. I wasn’t sure if it got worse than that.

“You know, maybe if I’m going to keep sleeping over, I should bring some stuff, like a toothbrush. I can’t kiss you with fuzz on my tongue.”

It felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. He stiffened in his chair, and I swore I could see the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

“Don’t,” he said flat. “I thought we agreed—casual.”

“Casual,” I repeated slowly, and my voice snapped a little. “Casual but cozy—why not?”

His jaw clenched. “Because you know why. I told you why. I can’t let myself get close to anyone. I can’t. It’s dangerous. I’m a dead man walking. You agreed, Janna. You can’t keep changing your fucking mind. I’m not going to.”

I stared at him with complete shock. The man who held me against him all night was gone. In his place was the other side of the man that seemed to be very confused about what I had said.

I set down my mug. “You make it sound like you’re broken, but you’re not. You’ve built a life. You save lives. And then you say you don’t have a heart…”

“What do you want me to do?” he snapped, frustration bleeding in his voice. “Build a condo around your toothbrush? Pretend I’m ready for something I’m not?”

My chest tightened like barbed wire. “I want you to try. You push us aapart and you’ll get your damned wish—dying alone someday.” My voice cracked, tears edging at the corners of my eyes. “Go ahead. You’ll find out how lonely ‘wrapping yourself in ashes’ really is.”

He slammed his napkin down so hard I flinched. “That’s not fair.”

“The hell it isn’t.” I stood, my chair scraping the floor. “You opened a window, then slammed it shut again this morning.”

His face contorted in desperation. “You want commitment so soon?” He laughed, harsh and brittle. “I told you we were casual.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, voice trembling, “sometimes ‘casual’ isn’t enough to hold two people.”

He shook his head, shoulders falling. “Maybe we’re just too different.”

I swallowed hard. “Maybe.”

I watched him shut down completely. The warm, satisfied man who’d made me breakfast was gone, replaced by someone cold and distant.

“You’re being ridiculous,” I said, my voice rising. “It was a joke, Dalton. A fucking joke about morning breath.”

“It wasn’t a joke,” he shot back, standing abruptly. “You’re testing boundaries. Seeing what you can get away with.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” I slammed my mug down hard enough that coffee sloshed over the rim. “It’s a toothbrush, not a whole damn drawer. I wasn’t asking you to put my name on the mailbox.”

“It starts with a toothbrush,” he said, his voice tight. “Then it’s clothes, then it’s expectations, then it’s⁠—”

“Then it’s what? Someone who gives a shit about you?” I was shouting now, all pretense of casual gone. “God forbid someone actually want to stick around long enough to brush their teeth in the morning.”

He ran his hands through his hair, pacing like a caged animal. “You don’t get it. You can’t just⁠—”

“I can’t just what? Exist in your space for more than twelve hours without you freaking out?” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You’re not protecting yourself, Dalton. You’re just being a coward.”