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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kelsey checked her phone again. The last message in her chat thread with Dex was still hers, from, now, three hours earlier:Are you free for dinner tonight?
Well, clearly he was not free. Trying to hold her mind back from reading more into his silence than that, she set her phone aside and went into the kitchen to figure out a dinner for one.
As always, Mr. Darcy followed her. He could never resist the possibility of treats. And truly, she rarely denied him—not so many he was overfed, but a little treat a few times a day was good for his overall health and outlook.
Having a dog that wanted to be with her every moment he could was good for her overall health and outlook, too.
He sat like a gentleman and waited. When she made the sign for ‘beg,’ he lifted his front paw. “Good boy, Mr. D!” She gave him a little treat cube and a ruffle of his wonderful corgi ears.
Then she stood in the middle of her kitchen and stared at the closed fridge, trying to work up interest in yet another meal for one. To cook or to nuke? That was the question. It was way too late to really cook, but she’d been hoping to make Dex dinner, and now the thought of tossing a Stouffer’s in the microwave was just depressing.
Her phone rang—not a text alert but an actual phone call—and she went back to the counter and picked it up, hoping … but no. Not Dex.
She answered. “Hey, Uncle Gun.”
“Hey, Buttercup. How you doin’?”
He’d called her Buttercup, afterThe Princess Bride, since he’d first watched that movie with her family, when Kelsey had been about seven. Apparently, she was going to carry her childhood nicknames around all her life—and she didn’t mind at all. There was a reason they were called ‘terms of endearment,’ after all.
“I’m good. Why are you calling so late? Are you okay? Is my dad? Duncan?” It wasn’t often Gunner called her unless there was trouble with her family or the club needed medical care and Aunt Willa and Felicia were busy.
“Hundred percent, all three of us. But you didn’t ask about your honeybun.”
Herhoneybun? Rather than focus on that obnoxious phrasing—typical Gun—she asked, “Is Dex okay?”
“Not sure. That’s why I’m calling. You two are bumping your uglies, right?”
Already she missed ‘honeybun.’ “Uncle Gun, come on.”
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. In a broadMasterpiece Theatervoice he asked, “Is our fair Dexter your true love?”
“You’re still being a butt. If you’re asking if we’re a couple, yes, I think we are. Is he okay?”
“Well, that’s the question. Big picture, yeah. No open wounds, no need for medical care. But shit tonight was fucked up, and he’s actin’ weird. He gets weird sometimes, but I thought you’d … if you two are …” He laughed. “Can’t think of a nicer way to say it than fucking. If you’re fucking, I thought maybe he could use the company. Leah always straightens me out.”
Leaning back against the counter, Kelsey tried to understand what was happening in this phone call. Her father’s best friend, her closest honorary uncle, was not known for his great emotional intelligence or, for that matter, for meddling in his brothers’ love lives. He was a gossip, that was true, but more for the entertainment value than real intervention.And, considering her father’s decidedly cool reception to this new relationship in her life, she was surprised Gun would intervene like this.
Also, it was seriously uncomfortable to talk with him about Dex, especially in Gun’s patented irreverence. Was he actually suggesting that she should go … what? Fuck Dex until whatever was bothering him stopped bothering him?
On the other hand, something was wrong with Dex. “What happened?”
“Nothing. We had a job and we did it. It didn’t go wrong, and nobody got hurt. But it did get weird, and Dex got weird, and usually he just goes away and rides it out. Maybe that’s the way it should be. But I just thought …” He stopped, went quiet. When Kelsey didn’t fill the silence, he said, “I could’ve been wrong.”
Setting aside the awkwardness of the phone call, Kelsey said, “No, I’m glad you told me. I’ll check on him.”
“Okay. Hey—don’t tell your pops about this, okay?”
Even stranger than Gunner getting in the middle of her new relationship was him doing it knowing how her father felt. Her father was resigned and wary. He was in no wayaccepting, and he would in no way appreciate his best friend helping Dex out.
“My lips are sealed, Unc.”
“That’s my good girl. Have a good night, Buttercup.”
~oOo~
Kelsey grabbed a carton of yogurt, wolfed it down, and called it dinner. She considered her phone and wondered whether she should call or text Dex and see if he even wanted company. But when she opened their chat, she saw her latest text:Are you free for dinner tonight?—still sitting there, hours later, not even on read. He hadn’t even looked at it yet—or if he had, he’d swiped it away without opening the app.
