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TWENTY-SIX
We talked,and cooked, and cleaned, and continued talking throughout the rest of the afternoon, evening, and late into the night. Dax made me laugh a lot—and the more I talked to him, the more sure I felt about the whole relationship we had.
He was a good man, and a fun guy to talk to. He didn’t hesitate to tease me, but he also never joked about anything that could offend me. And books—fuck, I’d never talked about books as thoroughly and intensely as I did with Dax. He was just as passionate about the stories and characters as I was, and not gonna lie, that was a turn-on for me.
But we both ignored all sexual feelings and scents, neither of us so much as mentioning it to the other. But damn, by the time 2 AM rolled around, I was kicking myself for making that no-sex rule.
I’d panicked when Dax told me he loved me, but it wasn’t his feelings that scared me—it was the things we hadn’t discussed, the unknowns. The more we talked, the more I understood him, and the more I started to wonder if maybe I did feel the same way he did.
It was too soon to say that though—and too soon to bring it up again—so I remained quiet about it.
When we went to bed, we snuggled up together. I didn’t mention Dax’s erection and he didn’t so much as growl at the scent of my desire in the air.
Our eyes closed, and together, we fell asleep.
I rushed aroundlike mad the next morning, already dressed in a pair of yoga shorts and a comfy shirt—with a bra beneath it this time, much to my man’s approval.
Dax stood at the stove, cooking for the masses as if it was a walk in the park. There was a sleepy, amused grin on his face as his gaze tracked me while I flitted between rooms, fluffing pillows that didn’t need to be fluffed and cleaning shit that didn’t need to be cleaned.
My mate—my sexy, brilliant mate—had the food ready right as a harsh knock at the door made my stomach clench.
“We’ll be fine,” Dax murmured to me, crossing the room and slipping his arm around my waist. The weight of it there was comforting, if only slightly. “I’ll offer to do a job for him and he’ll love me.”
I barked out a laugh. “With him, that would probably work.”
He flashed me a teasing smile. “Don’t worry about us, alright? We’re going to get our shit figured out, and we’re going to be fucking epic.”
Another harsh knock at the door had me growling in exasperation, “Rich guys.”
Dax chuckled. He tugged me lightly toward the door, and I walked with him.
Instead of waiting for me to grab the handle, Dax tugged it open himself, leaving his arm draped around my waist as he did so.
My dad stood in the doorway, his hands hanging down stiffly at his sides, and his charcoal-colored suit as crisp as always.
“Hey, Dad.” I slipped away from Dax long enough to throw my arms around my dad for a slightly awkward hug. My dad glared at Dax even while I hugged him; I could feel it. He did hug me back, though.
“And this is Mr. Gordon,” he said, as I stepped back to Dax. Dax’s arm wrapped back around my waist, and he extended his free hand toward my dad.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bayfield. You can call me Dax.”
My dad didn’t shake it immediately, his eyes still narrowed at Dax.
I narrowed mine back at my dad, giving him a glare that told him he’d better shake my man’s hand if he didn’t want me pissed at him.
Grudgingly, my dad finally accepted Dax’s hand, and gave it a firm shake.
“I’m a big fan of your work,” Dax said smoothly. “Baygen runs like a well-oiled machine.”
My dad’s eyes lightened slightly. “I’m a fan of yours as well. I’ve been trying to convince you to take a look at my numbers for another company for months.”
Dax nodded. “I’m pretty booked these days, but I’m considering settling down with a group soon.”
I fought the urge to shoot him a curious look.
I thought he liked freelance?
My dad’s business-eyes gleamed. “And you’ll take an offer from mine, of course.”
