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“Hey, Dax?”
He appears from the back office almost immediately, thatworried crinkle between his eyebrows visible even from where I’m standing.
“Hey. What’s up?” I ask. “That sounded intense.”
Dax’s eyes flick to the street. “You heard that?”
It might be the lighting, but I swear he’s paled a shade.
“Not really. Just shouting. Then I nearly got run over by that guy on his way out. What’s going on?”
Dax runs both his hands through his hair, then drops them with a frustrated groan. “Honestly, it’s nothing. He’s my landlord. We’ve been arguing about a few things for a while now. I missed a payment on my insurance. Total accident. I meant to pay it, but the month got away from me. Anyway, they reached out to him, and now he’s pissed about it. Not a big deal. I’m working through it.”
Ned. Dax’s landlord. Now I can place his face. We met at Dax’s Christmas party last year, although he was dressed as Santa and a hell of a lot jollier than he was just now. Could have been the holiday eggnog.
There’s a weird edge to Dax’s voice, and my spidey senses wonder if there’s something else going on.
“So, what’s up?” Dax asks, interrupting my overanalysis. “You said you had big news.”
Right. The whole reason I came over here. I push away all the weird thoughts and instead let out all the wildly excited ones I’ve been suppressing all day. “The most incredible thing happened to me this morning. Have you ever met Sunny’s friend Priya?”
Dax shakes his head. “Name doesn’t ring a bell, but maybe I just don’t remember her.”
“Oh, you would remember her, trust me. Anyway, she came by to visit my store today, and she owns a bunch of spa locations. And she wants to talk to me about leasing some space to Wilde Beauty. As in me, putting a bunch of Wildes into her spas. Isn’t that amazing?”
Dax’s muscles pull taut. A quick stiffening, lasting no longer than a pulse. Something I would have missed if I hadn’t been momentarily distracted by his gray henley and the way it hugs his chest so perfectly.
“Yes. Amazing. Sounds like a great opportunity.” He opens his arms and pulls me into his chest for a classic Daxon McGuire bear hug. It’s exactly the right reaction, and yet it feels off.
“Are you okay?” I ask, pulling back.
His brow crinkles, and I swear it’s even deeper than it was when I first came in. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” He leans down and places a tender kiss on my forehead. “It’s great news. I’m pumped for you.”
His voice is back to normal, and the little crinkle smooths out. It makes me wonder if maybe I imagined the angst. Invented drama where it doesn’t exist because I’m still not used to our new relationship dynamics.
“So tomorrow,” I continue. “Come play hooky with me. We can take the train to Toronto. Visit the spa. Do lunch. Maybe even shop a little. We can make a whole day of it.”
The stiffening thing happens again. I’m definitely not imagining it this time.
“I don’t think I can, Gemma. I need to be here.”
He doesn’t offer any further explanation, and although he’s perfectly within his rights to turn me down, it bothers me more than it should.
My Dax would have dropped everything without a second thought. His next question would have been,What time do we leave?He immediately would have fought me on where we were going to eat lunch and reminded me not to wear my pinchy shoes that look cute but always end up killing my feet by noon.
“Please, Dax.” My voice comes out slightly whinier than I intended. “This is a huge deal. I need moral support. Theopportunity could be life-changing, and Priya kind of scares the shit out of me. I need you.”
He releases me and steps away. His hands take another stressed-out run through his hair. “I don’t think I can make it work. Trust me when I say I wish I could. But I’m sure you’ll be amazing.”
I don’t get it. My Dax ditches work all the time for shit that’s way less of a deal than this. He once closed up shop four hours early to stand with me in the rain outside FirstOntario Centre to buy scalped Taylor Swift tickets because I promised him a slab of day-old Roma pizza left over from my lunch.
“Come on, Dax, it’s just one day. If you can’t get someone to cover, can you close up shop? I’m sure your customers will understand.”
“No, I can’t.” His voice snaps. “And I really hate to do this, but I need to run. I’ve got a couple of appointments tonight, and I can’t be late.”
He takes me by the hand and leads me to the front door. He’s gentle, but there’s a very clearGemma, get outtone to his actions.
I’m not going to beg him to stay or offer to accompany him to whatever appointment he has after six on a Monday. It’s clear I’ve crossed some line or pressed an invisible button that I shouldn’t have.
