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“I thought you wanted to do something with squash,” I muttered, unsettled. A tree had fallen on my house. It was insane. Surreal. Although with Mr. VanMeyer’s craziness, not all that surprising.
“I do. I so do. I told you it’ll be the best thing you ever put in your mouth.” His gaze dipped to my lips.
Oh my God.
I cleared my throat because it was suddenly quite dry.
“I don’t think you’re quite ready to taste my squash. Remember, I’m patient. Pizza?”
Like he suggested… pizza. Yes. Excellent. Because I definitely wasn’t ready to taste any part of Dex, let alone his squash. Liar! “Sure.”
“Good, let’s go.”
“Um… give me a few minutes to clean up.” And maybe make myself come.
His gaze raked over me as he was clearly debating how I needed to do just that.
“You look perfect.”
I rolled my eyes because that was such a guy thing to say.
He held up his hands. “Okay, don’t believe me. Go do what you need to do.”
“Bathroom?” I asked.
He pointed over his shoulder. “First door on the right.”
I grabbed one of the bags from just inside a bedroom doorway. The blue one, which I knew had my toiletries in it. The bathroom had a glass enclosed shower with white tile that matched the flooring. A skylight brightened the space along with a frosted glass window over the toilet. While the house was small, it was updated and well-appointed. It even had a heated towel rack.
I pulled my toiletry case from my bag and grabbed everything I needed, set things on the marble topped vanity in a long line. I brushed my hair and touched up my makeup.
When I was done, I came out and found Dex sprawled on the couch reading a book. His feet were up on the coffee table that was a solid chunk of wood. I needed to take a picture of it because I could make one of those–or maybe fifty–with the tree lodged in my house.
“Did I take too long?” I asked, noticing how settled he was.
He did that gaze raking thing again as he set the book on the couch and stood. I felt seen. Too seen as if he were doing an inventory of my body.
I glanced down. “Is there a stain on my shirt?”
A slow smile crept across his face as his eyes finally met mine. “No sugar. You look perfect.” My cell chimed, prompting me to a text. “That things been going off non-stop.”
I grabbed it from my purse which was still on the couch, scrolled through the unread messages. “Other neighbors about the house. My friend Molly. And–”
“Leave them for now,” he advised. He moved around the coffee table.
“But–”
He set his hand over mine and I flicked my gaze to his. This close, I could see his eyes were more melted chocolate than the boring brown I thought. He hadn’t shaved in a day or two and I wanted to feel the soft rasp of his whiskers against my palm. Between my–
“They’ll still be there after we eat,” he added.
“They will be, along with a whole lot more.”
“Then you’ll work your way through them then. No one expects you to go hungry to get back to them.”
“But–”
“Sugar, were you on the debate team in school?”
