AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Thanks,” he said, pulling one of the plates toward himself. She couldn’t help but watch his big hands as he picked up the burger and he took a healthy bite. He licked at a stray smear of ketchup on his lip, and she found herself staring at his mouth. His lips. Lips that probably half the single women in Cheyenne had kissed, she reminded herself. Nevertheless, a wave of heat crested over her, and she picked up her own burger, shoving it in her face to distract herself. They chewed in silence, and she tried to convince herself that while she’d felt those tugs of attraction toward Dean before, they only felt stronger today because she’d been thinking about Mike. Not because Dean was sexy as hell.
She waited a minute before speaking. “You okay?” she asked, scooping up a handful of fries and sitting back in her chair.
He sighed and set his burger down and then shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.” He popped a fry in his mouth, chewing for several seconds before speaking. “So, it turns out that my family thinks I’m a giant slut.”
Carly sputtered as she nearly inhaled a lungful of potato. She thumped herself on the chest a couple of times before clearing her airway enough to speak. “Uh . . . I don’t even know what to say. I mean . . . it’s not untrue, exactly.” Dean frowned. “Not that I’m judging,” she hastened to add, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “What brought this on?”
“My cousin Luke’s getting married next week in Mexico, and he and his fiancée asked me to bring a date so I don’t fuck everything that moves.”
She laughed and then shoveled some more fries into her mouth. “It’s like they know you or something,” she mumbled through her full mouth.
But Dean wasn’t laughing. He was biting his lip, glancing down at his lap, a frown still on his face.
“Wow, this really bothers you, huh?” she asked, wiping her hands on her jeans. She had to admit that she was surprised. He didn’t exactly hide his promiscuous lifestyle.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and when he glanced up at her, he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Christie called me a manwhore.” He glanced up, meeting her eyes. “Is that what everyone thinks of me?”
God, she’d never seen him rattled like this, and she had to admit there was something endearing about it. As though the legendary Dean Grayson was a mere mortal after all.
She swiped a fry through a puddle of ketchup. “I can’t speak for everyone, but it’s a free country and you can live your life the way you want.”
“That’s not what I asked,” he said, his voice low. His eyes met hers, sending heat zinging through her.
She licked her lips, and for just a second, his gaze dropped to her mouth. “I don’t think you’re a manwhore. Yeah, you have a bit of a reputation, but that can’t be news to you, Dean.”
“It’s not. I guess I just . . . didn’t realize my own family thought of me as the town bicycle.”
“Listen, if it bothers you, maybe it’s time to change it up. But like I said, if you’re happy, you’re free to live your life the way you want.”
He leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. Over the bar’s speakers, “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life” from Dirty Dancing came on, and she pointed toward the ceiling with a French fry. “You wanna dance it out? You can be Baby, and I’ll lift you.” She bobbed her shoulders in time to the music, and a hint of a smile turned up the corner of his mouth.
“You’re gonna lift me? I must have seventy-five pounds on you.”
She curled her lip and flexed her bicep. “I’ve been working out. Welcome to the gun show.”
He scoffed and pointed at her arm. “Oh, yeah. Your Nerf arms are real impressive, Car.”
She laughed, and her French fry morphed into a microphone as she started to sing along, getting into the song, determined to coax a full smile out of him. She flipped her hair and winked at him, and a smile broke out across his face. A triumphant surge moved through her and she redoubled her efforts just as Dean picked up a stapler from his desk, jumping in to sing the chorus with her. They chair-danced and sang at each other, and then Dean froze.
“Hey, Car?”
She stopped singing and ate her microphone French Fry. “Yeah?”
“You wanna go to Mexico?”
Chapter 2
Carly closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath. Right now, while hurtling through the air in a metal tube, was not the time to throw up. The plane jolted and she let out a little squeak, her fingers digging into the armrests. The seatbelt sign came on, and even though she’d never taken hers off—because, hello, she did not have a death wish—she tightened it to the point of constriction. It dug into her hips, painfully pressing her jeans into her skin. Her heart throbbed in her chest, and she glanced around the plane, wondering how the hell everyone else could be so calm when they were all clearly about to die.
The plane shook and bumped again, and she pressed her lips together, trying—and failing—to suppress her whimper. A wave of dizziness rocked her, and she forced herself to breathe, despite the instinct to hold her breath.
Dean looked away from the movie he was watching on the little screen hanging from the ceiling and pulled one of his earbuds out. “Hey, are you okay?”
She managed to nod, rapid jerks of her head. “Uh-huh. So good.” The plane suddenly dropped, sending her stomach up into her throat and she gasped, shutting her eyes tightly.
“Really? Because you look like you’re going to puke.” He fished out the air sickness bag from the seat pocket in front of him. “Need this?” he asked, offering it to her.
She shook her head. “No, I just . . .” The plane bumped again and she flattened herself into her seat, as though she could somehow will the plane to stay in the air if she held perfectly still. She swiveled her head to look at Dean, who was studying her with concern. Something about the way his blue eyes were intent on her, his brow furrowed, loosened the knot in her chest a little. “So, it turns out that I might be a little scared of flying.” Blood rushed to her cheeks as she admitted it, feeling like a dork, but also not understanding how people weren’t afraid of flying. It was totally insane when you thought about it. There was nothing but a sheet of metal separating her from falling forty thousand feet to the ground below.
