“What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t show up for breakfast.”
I glance at the clock over the sink, remember it’s perpetually frozen at 3:52, and check my watch instead.
Just after one. “Breakfast was like six hours ago.”
“I’m aware.”
“And I did go to the café, but you were busy, and I didn’t want to mess with your vibe.”
“You didn’t tell me you were posting that video.”
“I did.” Oh, hell. I totally didn’t. He’s right. I should’ve, but it slipped my mind.
He cocks a brow at me, andgah.
Could he be any more attractive? Even when he’s calling me on my bullshit, it’s like he wants the best for me, and he knows lying isn’t my best.
Or maybe I’m projecting.
Dylan Wright cannot possibly be all that and a pulled-pork sandwich.
No man can.
“Let’s start over,” he says quietly. “I missed you at breakfast, and I was worried something was wrong, since you haven’t missed a meeting before, and you didn’t call or text.”
“Someone would’ve told you if something was wrong. Or you could’ve called me.” Yes, I’m being a brat.
Yes, it’s on purpose.
I need distance. Idesperatelyneed distance.
“I texted. And I had to get to work.” He’s getting a mulish look that’salsoadorable. “And fight off about a dozen women between the café and my truck.”
I make myself beam and clap my hands. “It’s working!”
It is clearlynotworking. Dylan’s face is telegraphing utter misery.
I still keep smiling. “I’m so happy for you!”
“Knock it off.”
“But I gave you what I promised. How often does a favor you have to do for someone else turn into such a good thing foryou? And this is just the start. Pretty soon, you’ll have your pick of any woman you want.”
“ButI don’t want any woman.” He blows out a breath. “I want—I want aconnection. Like, you walk into a room, andbam. There she is. And then you start talking, and it’s not just that she has a great smile or that there’s nothing more attractive than a woman who’ll take time out of her day to have lunch with the lonely elderly lady next door. It’s that she listens and she doesn’t complain if you snore or come home smelling like rotten fish. She’s the first to call you out when you need it because you’re being an idiot, but she’ll do it kindly, and she lets you rant about how it’s stupid that they put the one stoplight on Main when the corner of First and Maple actually has so much more traffic.”
His ideal woman and life are so domestic and lovely that once again, that longing ache makes it hard to breathe.
Wouldn’t it be amazing if life could be that simple? “I’m sure that woman is out there.”
“But how do you find her when you’re getting all the attention for something completely unrelated to who you really are?”
This man. I swear. “Sometimes you have to stop questioning it and just go with it.”
“Is that what you do?”
“Just go with it?”
