AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My cell phone dings with a new text message. I fling open the bathroom door to retrieve my phone from the bed. It’s Willow. I drop my towel on the floor, slide into a terry cloth bath wrap, and then read her message.
Willow: Lunch on Friday? I’m in the mood for Mexican.
I send her a picture of me eating an overflowing burrito, making a funny face as I bite into it. Rice is on my lip, and salsa runs down to my chin. Dylan said all of the noises I made during our quick lunch date were distracting him.
Willow: BIG NEWS! I have sooo much to tell you.
Ash: You ran into Leonardo DiCaprio and are now preggers with his lovechild?
Willow sends two rows of laughing and crying emojis in response. Then, a few seconds later…
Willow: No. Chris Hemsworth.
Now, I’m the one sending dozens of emojis.
Ash: What’s the news?
Willow: Burke is taking me with him to New York. My first legit agent gig.
Ash: You go girl! Maybe one day you can rep me…
Willow: For sure. :)
Willow: So, Dylan… What’s up with him? You guys went on a date this week.
I wander into the hallway, laughing as I type out another text to Willow.
Ash: Definitely not. It was just lunch. Dylan helped me run some errands for Vinnie. We went to Nico Chase’s house.
Willow: OMG, I am so jelly right now. I LOVE Nico Chase like a fat kid loves cake.
Ash: This fat kid loves her burritos.
Willow: LOL And P.S. You’re not fat. Men love big boobs and big asses. Share the wealth, babe.
I shake my head, a grin stretching the corners of my mouth. Willow is the typical California girl, tallish with a slim figure, pretty hair, and a beautiful face.
“What are you wearing?”
Dylan’s voice snaps me back to reality.
Why does he keep obsessing over my clothes?
Probably because he wants to take them off me.
He’s in the living room, lounging on the sectional couch.
I enter the kitchen and open the refrigerator. “I’m wearing a robe,” I say with the same attitude Dylan gave me. “Do you have a problem with it?”
He hops off the couch, closing the distance between us within seconds. Dylan presses his palm to the counter, studying me with those intense blue irises that make my heart flutter. There’s something truly beautiful about him, from his long dark eyelashes that women would kill for to the strength in his nose and jaw.
His eyes roam over my body. Then, he fingers the thin strap of my wrap, lifting it off my shoulder with a devious look. “This isn’t a robe. You’re practically naked.”
I give him a cocky grin. “It’s your wild imagination getting the best of you.”
Dylan groans when I bend over to grab a bottle of water from the shelf in the fridge. Another text dings and I chuckle when I read Willow’s response.
Willow: I’d totally tap that ass if I were a dude.
“What’s so funny?” Dylan asks, invading my personal space.
“My friend. Willow. You met her before.”
“Yeah, once or twice.”
“She said she’d totally tap my ass if she were a man.”
Dylan smirks. “At least she has good taste.”
“Don’t let Sloan hear you say that.”
I set my phone on the counter and twist the top on the bottle. Around Dylan, my head is foggy, making it impossible for me to think straight. I drink half of the bottle, and then my phone dings again.
“I need to get my beauty sleep,” I say to Dylan and then walk out of the kitchen.
“Night,” Dylan says under his breath.
When my alarm clock sounds the next morning, I want to throw my phone across the room to make it stop. I have to get up at the butt crack of dawn now that I live in Malibu. The sun has yet to rise, which makes it harder to get motivated when it’s still dark outside.
I flick on the lamp on my bedside table and shut off the alarm. Clearing the sleep from my eyes, I blink a few times and slide out of bed. In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face, now feeling less like a zombie. My toothbrush is on the sink next to the soap dish, but where is my toothpaste? I check every drawer and the medicine cabinet before I give up my search.
Half-awake, I grab my toothbrush and head into the hallway and unconsciously walk toward Dylan’s bedroom. Stopping in front of his closed door, I consider forgetting this stupid idea. But I’m already here. He definitely has toothpaste. A control-freak like Dylan never runs out of anything.
I knock on his door.
No answer.
Again, I ball my hand into a fist and slam it against the wood. Still no answer. If Dylan is still sleeping, we won’t leave for work on time.
I turn the knob, and the door creeks open.
