was being missed around here.
Including by her. She could admit that much.
Finally, the group decided on a restaurant, a fantastic Mexican place just a few blocks away and, as they left the gym, she shot off the information to Sean.
His response came almost immediately, like he’d been waiting for her to text.
Did someone say chimichangas?
Completely confused, Dani pecked out, Uh, I’m sure you can order them?
And then it dawned on her. He was quoting ‘Deadpool’. Because of course he was. But before she could write another reply, he sent a gif of Deadpool gasping in surprise.
Dani chuckled and sent a new reply: I figured it out. Now, get your ass to the Cantina, Mr. Pool
Next, Sean sent an image. Of Deadpool, facing away but peering over his shoulder coquettishly, a finger to his mouth, his hand on his ass. The caption read:
BAD ASS.
SMART ASS.
GREAT ASS.
Laughing out loud at that, Dani found a ‘Deadpool’ gif of her own. A close up of Deadpool’s face with the caption: Oh, I’m touching myself tonight.
After she hit Send, she put her phone away. And found it hard not to grin the whole way to dinner.
Chapter Twelve
By the time Sean arrived at the restaurant, everyone was already seated around a big table of nine with overflowing baskets of chips. The only open seat was on the far side right next to Dani, who was looking hot as usual tonight in a simple fitted dark gray T-shirt, her black hair laying all together over one shoulder and exposing a black ribbon choker she wore around her neck. She was mid-conversation with Tara when she saw him. Even as she finished her sentence, she smiled at him and he just knew—that empty seat by her wasn’t a coincidence.
She’d saved it for him.
Now whether she did so to be near him or, you know, so she could possibly stab him with her fork was anybody’s call.
Still, as everyone said hello and rose to shake his hand or hug him, anticipation and satisfaction flowed through Sean’s veins.
“Hey, B, you made it,” Sean said to Billy.
Billy rose and clasped his hand. “Yeah. Hey, man. Good to see you. Damn, you’re looking so much better.”
“Why does that sound like a backhanded compliment?” Sean quipped, accepting Shayna’s hug when she opened her arms to him. “Hey, Shay.”
Her smile was pure affection and, man, did he eat it up. “Hey, big guy.”
Chuckling, Billy shook his head. “No, no, you know, it’s just that the last time I saw you a plate kicked your ass and now you totally look like you could take that plate down.”
“Damn plates,” Sean groused, smiling despite himself. Defeated first by a tomato soup can and then by a plate. He was not living his best life right now, that was for damn sure. “How was the game with Dante?” he asked, shifting the attention away from himself. Though that wasn’t the only reason he asked. He was genuinely curious. He wasn’t telling anyone yet, but one of the ways he’d dealt with his restlessness this week was by putting in an application to be a Big Brother—and yesterday afternoon he’d received an email inviting him to schedule a series of interviews. Unexpectedly, they’d had availability last night to do the first—a screening session by phone. There was nothing that got you out of your own head like helping other people—which he knew firsthand and was one of the reasons why he took on all those overtime shifts. By the time he’d finished that call and scheduled the second interview, he’d been genuinely surprised by how much better he felt. Not fantastic, but also not hanging on by a thread, either.
“We had a great time,” Billy said, grinning. “I’d forgotten how much a boy can eat at the age of twelve.” He put his hand on his stomach. “My thirty-three-year-old gut doesn’t love that I tried to keep up. It was cool though. It was the first time Dante had ever been to a professional sporting event. He was so psyched.”
“That’s awesome, man,” Sean said, trying to resist the hope rising inside himself that he’d get his own Little. He could already tell he was going to be disappointed if they didn’t approve him. Why the shit had he done this again?
Man up, Riddick. Fine.
It took Sean about five minutes to make it the rest of the way around the table, but he wasn’t complaining about any of it because he had to admit that he appreciated the pick-me-up