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Chapter 12
Dean
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“I wouldn’t go with flowers; that’s too cheesy and cliché.”
“You take that back right now, Palmer! Several hundred purple roses, one for each day you’ve known each other, is thoughtful and poignant!”
“Just bang it out, my dude. You won’t know anything until you bang it out.”
“Have some respect, Bodhi. You’re talking about our mother-in-law!”
“Are we all forgetting Laura is a total MILF?”
“No one is forgetting Laura is a MILF. We’re all just a little more tactful, and don’t say it out loud.”
“No one could forget it anyway. You just have to take one look at her. And the attention she always draws.”
The idiots I made the mistake of sharing my fucking feelings with, who haven’t shut up since, all turn in their seats out on the deck of Dockside Eddy’s to look inside the building at the bar.
“How attached are you to your agent?” I mutter to Palmer when the guys turn back around from looking over at Laura currently chatting it up with that douchebag inside.
“Holy shit,” Palmer whispers. “You’re jealous. You like her.”
“He already told the Ya-Ya Sisterhood he likes her as soon as he sat down, you dipshit. Keep up,” Murphy mutters, smacking the side of Palmer’s arm.
Laura’s neighbor left his 9-iron in his golf cart tonight, thank God, and has been content just sitting across the table from me, shooting daggers in my direction for the last half hour. And he’s right. I told the table I liked Laura as soon as I sat down. I also told them not to say one fucking word about it. A lot of good that did me.
“But he likes her, likes her,” Palmer says with wide eyes, while I clear my throat and shift in my chair uncomfortably. “He’s plotting my agent’s death as we speak. You can beat him up a little, but stay away from his face. He really likes his face. And he makes me a lot of money, so you can’t kill him.”
“He does have a pretty face.” Bodhi nods. “Very symmetrical eyes, and a strong jawline.”
“I’m not going to kill anyone. I’m not jealous. I don’t get jealous,” I mumble, taking a sip of my beer even as the green-eyed monster starts breathing fire in my gut again when I watch that little fuck with the strong jawline move in closer to Laura.
“Ed will not be happy if you get blood on his floor,” Shepherd warns me.
I look down at the weathered and worn wooden planks barely being held together with nails underneath us, keeping my eyes locked there instead of staring murderously across the room.
Dockside Eddy’s is a rustic seafood restaurant and bar with nautical artifacts hung all over the mismatched clapboard walls inside, and the huge covered deck we’re sitting on looks out over the ocean. The whole building leans a little to the left and looks like it’s taken the brunt of all the hurricanes that have hit the island, but it’s a great place with a nice atmosphere and exactly the type of low-key establishment I usually frequent when I want to relax with a beer.
I was looking forward to a nice, relaxing evening here tonight, where I could spend it flirting with Laura. And I was having a nice, relaxing evening, sitting out here, watching the sun go down over the water, and enjoying a drink. I didn’t even mind admitting I liked Laura to this table of morons, since I was too busy being distracted by watching her as soon as she walked through the front door.
She’s beautiful any time, but tonight? Tonight, she looks hotter than ever. And it’s not just because of the tiny pair of white shorts she’s wearing with a pair of red fuck-me heels, making her toned legs look longer than ever. Or the fitted, low-cut gray T-shirt tucked into her shorts, showing just enough cleavage to make my mouth water, with her long blonde hair hanging loose and wavy around her shoulders. It’s just her. Everything about her.
She lights up a room as soon as she enters it. Everyone wants to talk to her, and everyone wants a piece of her time. Because Laura is the sort of person whose time you want to steal, just so you can spend it with her.
I should know. I spent the whole fucking day doing whatever I could just to spend another minute with her or find another excuse to text her. Just to watch her get annoyed with me, and be stubborn with me, and every once in a while be sweet with me. Those random and rare moments when she’d let down her guard, the tension in her shoulders would drop, and she’d give me a smile, trusting me to handle things. To take care of her. To do whatever I could to make her crazy life easier. I am in complete awe of Laura and all she does for her family. With how fiercely she loves them, and how she would do anything for them, always putting everyone before herself.
All of these things combined make her the hottest woman I’ve ever met. I’ve spent the last twenty or so years running away from everything and everyone, telling myself I enjoyed the peace and quiet. Telling myself it was good to only have myself to worry about, because then it didn’t give anyone a chance to fuck me over. But I was lying. I don’t enjoy it. There’s nothing good about it.
I want to be part of her chaos. I don’t want to move from place to place anymore, never having a home. Never having a family or people who depend on me. I spent twenty minutes alone in my hotel room earlier, taking a shower and getting dressed to come here, and I couldn’t stand the quiet even for that short amount of time. I couldn’t wait to get back to the noise, and I couldn’t wait to get back to Laura, just to be a part of her world.
“I can’t believe she hasn’t given him the brush-off yet.” Bodhi laughs, everyone turning around again to look inside at the bar.
Why the hell hasn’t she given him the brush-off yet? And now she’s smiling at him? This motherfucker….
My nice, relaxing evening has quickly turned to shit. I’ve been so busy annoying Laura and handling some of her chaos that I forgot to remind her she’s my plus-one. Her breath hitches when I get close to her. Her heart races when her hot body is pressed up against mine. She would have fucking kissed me in Shepherd and Wren’s kitchen last night if Bodhi hadn’t interrupted us. She trusts me to take care of her.
