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For the rest of the day, I frantically dictated my notes, desperately recalling every excruciating detail of the home visit. When I emailed the completed notes and gave Mr. Havers the physical file copy, I was given a stern warning not to pull a “stunt like this again” and was promptly dismissed from his office.
Terrified my job was being placed on the line, I worked tirelessly without so much as a break for a snack, only stopping to use the restroom once for the rest of the day. I did manage to sneak in a quick text to Dean, letting him know I wouldn’t be able to make dinner by six-thirty.
His response said it wasn’t a problem and asked me to text him whenever I did make it home.
Thinking all he wanted was confirmation of when I arrived safe and sound, I wasn’t prepared for his response to my home-safe text. He told me he would be here in an hour and dinner was still happening.
Thirty minutes later, I’m falling asleep while standing and trying to find something suitable to wear to dinner while talking to my stuffed bat.
Just great.
I should text him back and beg off dinner, explaining that as much as I appreciate him trying to help, this will never work. I know it would be best to cut this off before it can become something too hard to be without, but…something’s dancing at the back of my consciousness that simply won’t allow me to tell him no.
It’s not a consent thing, trust me. Deep down, I know I want a Daddy. Someone to take over, make the decisions, and let me be. But one night of allowing it to happen and my workday was a shit show.
My focus needs to be on work and helping these kids. Not on my selfish wants.
“That’s what I’m going to tell Dean,” I say to Luna as I pull on a light-blue polo shirt. “Thank you, but I need to focus on my work. Surely he won’t take offense to that, right?”
Once again, I’m met with silence and judgy eyes.
“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice,” I scold. “This is for the best.”
Glancing at my outfit, I figure a pair of jeans and this shirt is the best it’s gonna get. I scoop the pile of discarded choices off my bed and dump everything inside my closet, leaving the mess for future Tanner to deal with.
I rush across the hall to the bathroom, wincing as I catch sight of the bags under my eyes while brushing my teeth.
Daddy’s not gonna like that.
“No, not Daddy. Dean.” I point at my reflection with my toothbrush. “Better stop now. You’ve already made your decision.”
I turn out of the bathroom, flicking the lights off behind me. I grab my phone from the kitchen counter and realize Dean should be arriving soon. I have a few minutes to wait, so I wash the dishes in the sink and wipe off the counter. Anything to avoid going to the couch because once I sit, there’s no telling if I’ll ever be able to get back up.
I’m toweling off the last coffee mug when a forceful knock echoes through my apartment. With a sigh, I place the cup in the cabinet and hang the towel over the edge of the sink. As I make my way to the door, I run my hands over my shirt, rolling my eyes when I catch on a wet spot from the quick chore I justhadto do.
Oh well. Not like Dean’s going to give two shits about my clothes while I’m shutting him down.
Unhooking the chain latch, I twist the deadbolt and open the door.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Dean looks stunning, drool-worthy even. He’s wearing a form-fitting pair of dark-blue jeans, a black button-up stretched over his thick chest, and he’s rolled the sleeves to his elbows. The lines of his tattoos dance across his muscular forearms, and I have to swallow back a moan.
Every ounce of preparation I had to let this man off the hook goes flying out the window in an instant.
Chiding myself for eyeing him like a slab of meat, I cast my eyes to the floor and push open the door. “Hello,” I say, fighting to keep my voice even.
This obviously isn’t good enough for Dean because his hand juts out and cups my face before lifting my head skyward until my eyes connect with his stormy expression. His dark irises burn with fire—and not the good kind—as his gaze roams my face. Silently, he inspects every inch, his eyebrows pulling together, crinkling his forehead the longer he looks, no doubt noting the exhaustion I can never hide.
Without another word, he releases his hold on my chin, steps over the threshold, and closes the door behind him. The soft snick may as well be a resoundingboom,given how high I jump when the latch connects.
“Change of plans,” he says firmly, still eyeing me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt under his scrutiny. “I’m awake enough for our date…I mean dinner…or is it a date? I’m sorry.”
“Tanner, stop,” Dean says, halting me in my tracks. “You’re far from awake. I don’t think going out is a good idea.”
“No, no, I swear I’m fine.” Never mind that he’s granting me my out, I have zero desire to take him up on it. All my steadfast decisions and confidence have fled the room. I may have been lying to Luna—and myself—I don’t want him to give up on me so quickly. “I still want to have dinner with you.”
