Dylan:
How’s it going?
There. Not too cheesy, not too bossy.
Maybe.
Why the hell hadn’t anyone bothered to mentor him on how to send halfway decent texts? If it was any other woman, he’d hit Ethan up for advice. But somehow, he didn’t think his buddy would be willing to help Dylan get his mother into bed.
Annoyed with himself, he hit send, then tossed the phone onto the table beside the chair and bit into the sandwich he’d snagged from the on-site deli. It was surprisingly tasty, which almost made up for all the cups of coffee he’d had to fetch over the course of the morning.
When his phone buzzed, he snatched it up and grinned when he saw her name on the preview. But the grin faded as he read her message.
Sam:
Shitty. You?
Damn. He’d been hoping her day had gotten better after the mishap this morning when she’d overslept.
Dylan:
If I never see another cup of coffee again, it’ll be too soon. Got any plans for dinner?
Couldn’t hurt to remind her he was interested in her as more than just a housemate and his friend’s mother, right?
Wrong, he realized when her next message came through.
Sam:
This may come as a shock to you, but my world doesn’t actually revolve around the kitchen. I’m sure you can figure dinner out on your own.
Frowning at his phone, he reread his message. Obviously she thought he’d been asking what she was planning to make for dinner, which couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Well, no better time than the present to flex those Daddy muscles.
Dylan:
I think we’ve had a miscommunication, Samantha. I didn’t ask what you were planning to cook, I asked if you had plans. Because if you don’t, I was thinking we could both use a drink and a nice meal neither of us has to cook.
Phone still in one hand, he took another bite of his sandwich as he waited for her response.
Sam:
Oh.
He couldn’t help but grin, imagining her sitting in her own break room, her face turning bright red as she read his message.
Dylan:
Is that all you have to say for yourself?
That was definitely pushing the envelope a bit, but he was curious to see how she would respond. If she told him to go fuck himself, he’d back off.
A little. For now.
Sam:
Sorry. Like I said, shitty day. Not really feeling up to going out.
