Page 14 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

Dean: Hello?

I stare at the question and the blatant haughtiness, which I can hear in his tone after knowing him for so long, and decide this is it. I’ve had enough. My delight over the donuts is overruled by the anger sweeping back through me. Who is he to demand I talk to him right this second? No one. That’s who he is to me after all these years. I hit Info on his contact, scroll to the bottom, and tap probably a little too roughly on Block Caller.

“What are you doing over there?” Tyler asks. I had been so wrapped up in my own head that I forgot he was there.

My eyes find his, which are dark with his brows pulled down, and if I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing, anger.

“I don’t know,” I tell him while standing so I can join him. “Freeing myself. Eighty-sixing unwanted noise. Taking out the garbage. Finally blocking. Looking at the cost and supplies of owning my own chickens. Watching baby goat videos. Take your pick.”

He stares at me for a moment, and then one dark eyebrow pops up. “Watching baby goat videos?”

I appreciate that out of everything I just word vomited on him, this is what he chose.

“Well, yeah. They’re so cute. I love baby goats. They make me happy.”

“Have you ever been around baby goats?” he asks suspiciously, placing a plate in front of me as I slide into a seat at the island with his beautiful fish underneath me. I’ve stared at these fish endlessly while working these past couple of days, and a large blue-and-yellow fish has become my favorite.

“No, but the videos sure make me happy. Did you know that if you scare a goat, they fall right over and faint? Legs straight out and everything like they’ve died and developed rigor mortis.”

He flips the lid of the box open and my mouth waters at the dozen fat, delicious-looking donuts in front of me and the instant smell of sugar.

“No, and that’s weird, and from what I know, they shit all over everywhere,” he says, taking out one of the plain glazed. The glazed are my favorite too. I don’t tell him this, after all, I’ve never met a donut I didn’t like, but there’s something about a regular glazed donut that just makes them better than all the rest, especially if they’re a little bit warm.

“How would you know?” I ask, pulling out a maple, my second favorite.

He takes a bite of his and, while chewing, answers the question. “Bryan, our quarterback, just got two for his wife. She’s decided that she needs farm animals. He got her goats and chickens. We’ve had to hear about it in our group chat, in the locker room, while practicing, and at dinner. Needless to say, except for the eggs, he’s not a fan.”

“Really?” I ask, excitement eliminating any of the lingering anger from Dean. “That’s so exciting. There’s no way he’s not a fan, and farm fresh eggs are so good.”

He takes another large bite and looks at me skeptically. “Exciting isn’t the word I would be using. He’s the one who’ll end up cleaning it.”

“You don’t know that, and from what I know of Lexi Brennen, she’s a force to be reckoned with.” I sink my teeth into the donut, and my eyes drift shut in pure bliss. Sugary sweetness invades my senses, and I’m so happy. This man has no idea how he just pulled me from the funk mood I was in.

“How do you know Lexi?” he asks, watching me as I savor another bite.

I give him a blank stare, then raise my brows. “Really?”

“Oh. WAGS. I guess that makes sense.” He eats more of his donut.

“Yeah, I’ve met her a few times at industry events over the years. She’s always been very nice to me.” I take another bite and appreciate how flavorful the maple icing is. I can taste caramel, toffee, and nutmeg. It’s so delicious I’m thinking he can keep the plain glazed and these have moved into the number-one spot.

“She makes some damn good pie, too,” he says.

“I did order a few of her pies in a jar once from her business, Firefly Kitchen. Dean refused to eat any of it. Something about his body being a temple and all that, but that didn’t stop me. They were delicious.”

He frowns. “I’m offended for her and her pies. Have I told you yet how much I hate that guy?”

“Lance told me pretty much every day of the eight years that we were together. I’m not surprised you share his sentiments.” I take another bite.

“Trust me, it’s not just me. Eventually, he’ll lose that shiny reputation. He’s slipping, and too many people have seen his true colors lately.” He shoves more of the donut into his mouth.

“And what colors are those?”

“Not good ones. He’s a narcissist and like an illness that spreads to everyone and everything around him, where he tries to infect them with his condescending negativity.” His gaze travels over me like he’s looking for these germs, and I’m not sure how I feel about his answer. Does he think I’m the same?

“Did it spread to me?” I ask, needing to know his answer.

He finishes off the last of his donut and looks at me. Hard. I don't know what he’s looking for, and it makes me want to squirm.