In A Fix - Mary Calmes Page 0,70
I washed, and Cate and Gina took care of putting away the leftover appetizers and meal.
“How long have you known Dallas?” Evan asked me.
“Not long,” I told him.
He cleared his throat. “He and I used to date.”
“That’s what Law said, yes.”
“He’s terribly high maintenance, you know,” he offered helpfully. “But since you don’t live here full-time, perhaps that won’t be a problem.”
“As long as everyone is on the same page,” I said, staring at him, “and knows exactly where they stand—it won’t ever become a problem.”
He nodded. “Yes. That’s so true.”
We were silent for long minutes.
“I really hurt him when I left,” he confessed suddenly, “and that was never my intention.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. I’ve got him.”
“Yes, I…see that.”
I smiled at him, which made his eyes widen, so I was guessing it came off more scary than anything else. It happened sometimes. I either looked like I was grimacing—which was the one Jared hated—or I came off as threatening. I knew it was because I wasn’t a terribly warm person. I was more cerebral than emotional, at least when I wasn’t around Dallas Bauer.
“I can do that,” Dallas said, walking up beside Evan and taking the towel out of his hand. “Law wanted you to make your world-famous Moscow Mule for Mrs. Livingston.”
His eyes softened as he looked at Dallas. “You always loved those.”
“They are good,” he allowed, stepping around Evan to take his place. “Anyway, he’s waitin’ on you.”
“Sure,” he whispered, his eyes flicking to me before he walked away.
“So, I was thinkin’ that––”
“As soon as we get back to your house, I’m going to do very bad things to you.”
His smile was all heat and hunger. “You don’t like Evan.”
“No.”
“He was talking about me, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you really didn’t like that.”
I shook my head slowly.
He crowded me, his lips against my ear. “You’re crazy possessive, do you know that about yourself?”
“I do,” I told him. “I’m normally careful about it.”
“But not this time.”
“No. I didn’t see it coming.”
“And by it, you mean…me.”
“Yes.”
“Yes,” he repeated my answer, his voice going out on him before he recovered and leaned back, giving me room. “So it’s new.”
I met his gaze.
“How new?”
“Very.”
“Is it good that I bring that out in you?”
“It’s not a conscious decision I’m making; it just is.”
He took a breath. “I’m very thankful.”
“Why is that?”
“I want to matter, and most people think it’s too needy.”
“It’s not.”
“Jesus, Croy, where ya been all this time?”
“You should—you don’t know what you’re getting into,” I warned him. “It’s never happened like this before, so…this could get messy.”
“Awww, God, I hope so,” he said, grinning at me, looking at me in a way that no one could miss, that I was more than a friend to him, and that we were on very intimate terms. “Please let it be difficult, and great, and horrible, and amazing, and just—real. I can’t wake up tomorrow and have this not be real.”
I nodded.
“And you can’t change your mind.”
“I can,” I assured him. “But I won’t, and that’s the difference.”
“I broke you,” he quipped.
“No. I think you made me.”
He swallowed hard, and I heard his sharp release of breath before he bumped into me and began kissing over my jawline until he reached the sensitive spot right under my ear.
“I wanna go now,” he said, giving me the low, rough order. “I don’t wanna visit. I’m not—I can’t be here anymore.”
Pulling my hands from the soapy water, I turned on the faucet, rinsed them, and shut it back off before taking the towel from him and drying them. It was almost done anyway. There was a casserole dish left, and there would be dessert plates because there were several tarts, one pie, and a German chocolate cake on the table.
“Jackie,” I called over to her, “I’m so sorry, but we need to go.”
There were several disappointed voices lamenting our imminent exodus.
Jackie crossed the room to stand in front of me, while Dallas rushed over to the couch to collect my suit jacket.
“You have to miss dessert?”
I leaned close to her. “Your son has something to discuss with me, and I don’t want to ask him to wait. Is that all right?”
“Of course,” she told me. “And thank you, Croy, for not saying it was work or something other than what it is.”
“Well, I am using the word ‘discuss’ as a euphemism for something else,” I said, grinning at her. “But you’re a smart woman, and you know what it means when a relationship is