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“By ‘you,’ you mean ‘us,’ right?” Dylan says. The puppy dog look on his face makes it hard not to like him.
“No, I meant Vaughn,” I tease.
Dylan feigns a sad face then reaches for the plate. “In that case, I’ll polish these off now.”
Vaughn leans over, his arm brushing my shoulder, his mouth at my neck, and little shock waves race across my upper back. “Dylan grew up on reservations and takeout.”
“And you?” I whisper back.
“Pretty much the same.”
“I hate to break up this little foursome,” Dixie says with a glance at her cell, “but I need to head out.”
“Where you rushing off to, Dix?”
“Word of caution, Dyl, the last guy who called me Dix couldn’t use his for a week.”
Dylan leans back in his chair and with a straight face says, “Punish me, Dix.”
Dixie stands and rolls her eyes. I suck in my bottom lip to keep from laughing and peek at Vaughn. He’s staring at my mouth. So of course I look at his. His lips are full, the bottom lip a little more so, and I want to slide my tongue over it and then taste inside his mouth.
I quickly turn away. “Where are you going?” I blurt out. I need something else to focus on before I fall face first into my hot neighbor. I haven’t wanted to kiss anyone since Mason. Mason. I picture his handsome face, his smile. What does he look like now?
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve got a guitar lesson.” She gathers her towel against her chest with one hand while she holds her notebook in the other and slides her feet into a pair of black flip-flops.
“You any good?” Dylan asks, propping his elbow up on the top of his chair.
“I can hold my own.”
“She sings, too,” I offer. She’s got an amazing voice. Not that I’ve heard it in a while. “You ever performed at an open mic night, Dix?”
I inwardly smile as Dixie presses her lips together. See? It isn’t so nice being called a name you hate. I make a mental note to bake Dylan cookies ASAP.
“I have.”
“Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. Come to The Cabana on Sunset and let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Dylan owns the club,” Vaughn supplies.
“I don’t take orders. Especially from bar owners.” Dixie twists around to go.
“I guess you’re not as talented as you think you are,” Dylan says.
Dixie turns on him. “Is that a challenge?”
“Let me be straight up with you. Yes.”
She studies Dylan with an intensity I have no idea how to read. “I’ll be there. And just so we’re clear it’s because I assume there’s a purse for the winner.”
“There is.”
“Excellent. Bye, Vaughn. It was nice to see you again.”
“You, too,” Vaughn says as Dixie turns and walks away.
“What? No good-bye for me?” Dylan calls, but Dixie doesn’t even pause, just waves over her shoulder. He tosses a grin at us. “Oh, yeah. She wants me.”
Vaughn and I laugh at the same time. Dylan picks up the margarita pitcher and cups, then stands. “Shall we continue this back at our house?” he says. “Pick up where we left off before we came over here.”
