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“I imagine you're pretty booked.”

“Yeah, and now the added stress of Dillon leaving is kind of sending me spiraling.” She laughs, then bites on her bottom lip. “I'm sure we'll be good, though. Morgan already said she will help, and I know Warren will too if I need it.” She's looking off, eyes slightly unfocused like she's running through it all in her head for the hundredth time, but I'm frozen for a whole different fucking reason.

“I'm sure by the time he leaves, you'll have everything hammered out.”

Hammered out? Dear God, who says that?

I already knew he was leaving. Calm the hell down.

I resume wetting her hair and watch Penny pull out an entire stack of towels from under my sink cabinet. She sits and starts meticulously fucking each and every one up.

“I guess. I was hoping for a few more weeks, but one will have to do. We'll be alright though, won't we, Pen?”

I'm glad I don't have scissors in my hand, or I very well may have snapped something off. My finger or half the hair.

I force a swallow past the lump in my throat and continue combing my fingers through her hair. “A week, huh? That was fast.”

I'm not sure my attempt at a chuckle sounds laugh-like or choked. Either way she doesn't comment.

“He decided on Monday morning to have a few people on his crew finish up at Warren's cabin. I'm sure you already knew that, though.” She sighs but shimmies back in the seat and shakes out her shoulders. “Anyway, enough about that, or I may panic.”

You and me fucking both, babe.

Emerson

It made sense for my brothers to put me in the back seat of the Uber meant for Dillon. They trusted that he would make sure my drunk ass made it home safe and sound.

They may have trusted him.

But trusting me in this scenario was dangerous.

The drive from the club in the city to his familiar ranch-style home feels like it takes too long and not long enough. I don't know how I manage to survive the time sitting next to him without uttering a single word.

Might have something to do with the fact that the car doesn't feel like it has enough oxygen for me to breathe. And every inhale reminds me that he's less than an arm’s width away.

I closed my eyes almost as soon as the car started moving, trying to stop the world outside the windows from spinning. And instead, I was transported back to the dance floor and the way Dillon laughed as he spun me in circles.

I've never felt so alive. And it had little to do with the lights and abundance of bodies and sounds, and everything to do with the way he looked at me. Like he actually saw me.

I'm still riding that high. And the tequila.

“Come on, baby B, let's get you inside.” I pry my eyes open and smirk, allowing Dillon to pull me out of the back of the car. He has enough sense to hand the driver a tip before closing the door. I stumble sideways into him and giggle when we both take wobbly steps toward his porch.

We use each other for balance on the steps, and I shiver from the adrenaline still flowing through my veins, watching Dillon sway ever so slightly as he tries three times to get the key into the lock.

Even drunk, Dillon is a good man. Holding the door open for me, helping me not fall on my face when I take off my platforms when we get inside. I sigh when my feet are free, and Dillon holds my arm to make sure I'm steady before tossing his keys in the dish on the table by the couch.

With his back to me, I'm brave. In the low light, I can be braver. I step closer to his back and gather all the courage tonight has given me.

“There's one more thing I want. For my birthday."

It takes a small eternity for Dillon to turn around, and he looks at me through his lashes like he already knows exactly what I'm going to say.

Maybe I'm reckless. But the thick blanket of alcohol in my mind makes my deepest wish easy to speak. “A kiss.” I cover how serious it feels to say that out loud with a smirk, moving slowly closer to him. “It's good luck to get a kiss on your birthday, you know.”

“Is it?” he says, the soft rasp leaving goosebumps on my skin.

I nod, reaching out when I'm close enough to walk my fingertips up his chest. “Will you give me a good luck kiss, Dill?”