I ignored them both. Breeze started listing things on her fingers, which included burning the place down and steamrolling it. Dax gave my back one last pat and pulled away.
I missed it immediately.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I tried to shake it off. His cheekbones might win an award in this café, and he hadn’t freaked out over my breakdown. Still, the moment he opened his mouth, it all went downhill. Most men had that problem in my experience.
“What about all that space out the back?” Dax asked, and my head shot up.
“There’s an out the back?”
Breeze leaned her hip against the counter. “Therewasan out the back. I don’t know where it went,” she said, biting her bottom lip.
My mouth bobbed open. “Show me.”
As we followed her through the kitchen, Breeze pointed to a set of white double doors. How had I not noticed them before? They would have come in handy when I was cleaning the oven and gassing myself out with chemical fumes. Breeze hopped from foot to foot, not looking at the door. Dax and I exchanged looks.
“I can’t get it open, okay?” she blurted.
“So you just... stopped trying?” I asked, the amusement clear in my tone. I enjoyed when someone was having an equal amount of difficulty adulting as I was. Breeze dropped her head.
“How long ago?” Dax asked hesitantly.
Breeze snapped her neck up. “How long ago what?”
“Did you stop trying with the door?” he said, using my words.
Breeze chewed her bottom lip again. “A year-ish ago,” she squeaked. I turned around to cover my snort as Dax approached her quietly.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing to what I hoped was going to expose Narnia. Breeze hopped from side to side again.
“No judgement,” he said, holding his palms up.
“Fine!” she groaned. “But remember that I saw you curled in the foetal position in your trash-filled townhouse after your last tour,” she said, looking at Dax and his cheeks filled red. “And you’re an emotional robot,” she shot in my direction.
Ouch, but not untrue. Breeze had a spicy side, and I was here for it.
After undoing the locks and giving the door several strong shoulder barges, it burst open.
My jaw dropped. A jungle of overgrown grass and tangled vines stretched up to the doorstep. I couldn’t see how far it went.
No one said a word.
“Needs a mow,” Breeze said casually, twirling her hair.
I burst out laughing.
We addedtaming the jungleto our ever-growing to-do list. Dax promised to return the following weekend to help. All that space was giving me an idea.
“Why does he have to come?” I grunted to Breeze after he’d gone.
“Because he has the mower. And all the tools. Have you seen those biceps? I can put those to good use,” she said, rolling out dough on the butcher’s block I’d oiled the night before.
“What’s your problem with him, anyway?”
“I don’t have a problem,” I muttered, rolling a dough ball between my fingers.
She rolled her eyes, unconvinced.
