Dex tried to look stern, but he couldn’t stop a smile. “Come on. She’s not that bad.”
“Cuz, at least be honest. She’s a holy terror. Shebroke awoman’s nose,” Anson emphasized.
“So she has a few anger issues,” Dex defended. “Who doesn’t?”
“Well, when Ann gets mad, she freezes me out.” Jack shrugged. “And I’ve seen Riley refuse to bake cookies when she’s upset with someone. Not exactly the violent types.”
“Maybe so. But no one, and I mean no one, has ever kissed me the way Maya did Friday night. That woman wants me. I want her. How hard can grabbing hold of her be?”
“Catching a tiger by the tail,” Anson sighed.
Jack nodded. “It’s not the grabbing, it’s the holding on for dear life you should be worried about.”
Dex said nothing, still feeling enthusiastic about the prospect.
Jack and Anson stared at him before Jack called for another round.
Anson shook his head, then he and Jack raised their near-empty glasses to Dex in a toast. ?For my naïve sap of a cousin. May you survive this battle.?
“Against all odds,” Jack continued. “May you not find yourself castrated, crying and broken when she’s through with you.”
“Poor bastard.”
A waiter brought them another round of beers. But while Jack and Anson continued to tease him, Dex planned to outflank and out-strategize his opponent. Mean she might be, but Dex had staying power. And by damn, he was a Marine.
What more needed to be said?
Chapter Four
Monday morning Dex puttered around his new studio, eager to open for business. He planned to officially open his doors in another week, though he’d already gotten a few early appointments for Christmas cards and two weddings.
The domestic nature of his photography was such a change from the dynamic and sometimes dangerous shots of urban life and nature he’d taken overseas. Africa, Asia, Russia, Europe, he’d traveled extensively while in the Corps and then while out of it, capturing life as he saw it.
Photography had always been his passion. Despite his time in the service, he’d continued to shoot pictures whenever possible. And the work had paid off. Literally. He’d managed to grab the attention of a big-name agent who’d sold his work in galleries worldwide.
Yet something had always been missing. He loved to travel. He loved his art. But he’d never felt at home like he did in Bend, near his family. Near Maya.
He sighed. The woman would flip out if he admitted he’d returned for her. In love with her as a kid but unaware of the true depth of his feelings, it had taken time for him to realize he wanted Maya in his life.
Despite the distance between them, he’d kept subtle tabs on her via his mother. He’d worried she might find someone, but she hadn’t. He thought he knew why. The woman had some serious hang-ups, not just about relationships, but about her identity as well.
Someone knocked on the outer door of the studio, interrupting his train of thought.
As if he’d summoned her, Maya stood outside holding two cups of coffee.
He smiled, his grin widening as her frown grew. He hurried to unlock and open the door, then ushered her inside. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Here.” She shoved a cup at him.
“Still not a morning person, I take it?”
She shook her head.
He took a sip of his coffee and nearly spit it out.
“Oh, that’s probably mine. You drink yours black, right?” She switched cups and he drank the dark stuff with pleasure.
“Perfect. Thanks.”
