A Guy Walks Into My Bar - Lauren Blakely Page 0,65
“It was great to meet you, Mr. Collins.”
Another laugh bursts from him. “You’re good with the formalities. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Well, my mom and three sisters made it clear that manners matter.”
“They taught you well.” His father claps me on the shoulder. “Pleasure to meet you, James. Maybe we’ll see more of you.”
I wish, I want to say.
But instead, I say thank you.
When he leaves, Dean turns around and gives me a smile full of gratitude. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being great with my dad.”
“It was easy.” That’s true of nearly everything with Dean.
Except for being with him the way I want to. Which is starting to feel like . . . every day. That’s how I want to be with him, and that makes things the opposite of easy.
The thought scares the shit out of me.
And kind of doesn’t at the same damn time.
As the door creaks shut, Dean’s gaze drifts to a book his dad left behind. He grabs it and tells me he’ll be right back.
“I’ll be here.” As his footsteps sound on the steps, I say those words again to Dean’s flat around me. I’ll be here.
Wishing there were a way, but knowing there’s not.
I’m going to just enjoy every last minute with him. That is all I can do.
26
Dean
I find my dad on the street and hand him the book. “I’m sure you’ll be too busy with Penny to read, but one never knows.”
“Same goes for you,” my dad says. He tips his head toward the door, glancing upstairs. “I like him.”
Three words, that’s all, but they make my heart glow. I didn’t realize until just now that I wanted them from my father. Needed them—his seal of approval.
“Me too,” I answer.
“I can tell.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, and it’s a good thing.”
“Feels like a good thing.”
Or really, a great thing.
He heads down the street, and I return to my flat to see that Fitz has cleared the table and is already washing the dishes.
I grin, ridiculously happy that he thought to do that. I grab a towel and start drying the dishes he’s already washed and rinsed, and we fall into an easy rhythm.
“I like your dad,” Fitz says, glancing at me.
“Thanks. So do I.”
“I can tell. You guys have a great relationship.”
“I’m lucky. We’re a lot alike, and honestly, we’re good friends too.” I take a beat, setting down a plate in the rack. “My dad said he liked you.” Once I speak the words, they feel significant. Bigger than I expected them to, like I’m opening up to Fitz in a whole new way.
I swallow roughly, waiting.
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye as he rinses off the last dish, puts it down, and wipes off his hands. He’s quiet, which is unlike him, so I fill the silence with another question. “Are you close with your mum like that?”
“Not in the same way exactly. But we’re open, and we talk. I call her every week. She texts me before each game and wishes me luck. She texts me after every game to say either ‘Congrats’ or ‘You’ll crush them next time.’”
“She sounds amazing,” I say, then I cast about for something more, something to fill this conversational void. “And have you talked—?”
He runs a hand along my arm, then at last answers my unspoken question. “She’d like you too, Dean. My mom would like you.”
Sparks spread across my skin. Only this time, it’s not from the contact—it’s from the admission that parallels mine.
“Is that so?” I put down the towel.
“Yes, it is so,” he says, imitating me.
“And why do you mock me for that?”
“Because it’s easy. And because you walk into it sometimes, so I can’t help it. Like the way you say, ‘Is that so?’ as if you doubt everything anyone says.”
“Perhaps I do. Perhaps I like facts. So, tell me. Why would your mum like me?” I ask, and we’re treading dangerously close to the deep end again. Lately, that seems like what we do with each other. Like we’re dipping our toes in the water all the time. Maybe soon, one of us will jump.
Or maybe we won’t. Maybe it’s safest to keep this on the safe, dry, limited ground where it belongs.
He shrugs easily. “Because I do.”
“It’s that simple?”
Fitz smirks before leaning over and kissing my cheek. “And because you’re adorable.”
I lift my chin. “I’m not adorable.”
“A little. You’re a little adorable,” he teases in his Harry Potter accent.