Page 13 of The Girl He Loves

“You’re not fine. Let me call your husband. He should come and get you and take you to the emergency room or something.”

I shake my head. “That won’t be necessary.”

“How about I get one of your friends to take you?”

Someone bumps me, and I grit my teeth to keep from showing any discomfort.

Dax rolls his eyes and leans toward me. “On three, I’m going to move you out of the way. Ready?”

“Wait, what?”

“One, two, three.” He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me up so that my boobs are slightly below his chin. I bet I smell great. Like beer and sweat. Every man’s dream.

He’s gentle as he moves me off the sidewalk into a small alcove against a building. We’re still in the thick of things, but no longer in anyone’s way. He lowers me ever so slowly, like I’m floating on a cloud, and leans me up against the building.

“Which friend do you want me to go back and get?”

“They can’t leave. They’ll be too shorthanded to run the restaurant, and the money is for a good cause.”

“You’re a good cause, too. If you won’t let me get one of them, then give me your phone.” He puts his hand out expectedly.

“Why?”

“I’m going to call your husband.”

“Nope,” I say. “I’ll drive home and can take care of everything when I get there.”

“If you don’t give me your phone, I’m going to track him down myself on my phone.” He slips his phone out of his back pocket and begins to do what I assume is scrolling and keying in something in a search engine.

I put my hand over his phone. “Stop, Dax. Please.” I don’t want to tell him the truth.

“Why don’t you want him to come help you? That’s what a partner is for.”

I have two options. I can continue with the lie and maybe get away with it. Or maybe I’ll dig myself in deeper. Or… “Because we’re divorced,” I whisper.

A beat of silence passes.

Dax nods his head twice. “Good, that’ll make this easier.”

“What?”

“Count of three,” he says and begins counting.

“What?”

On three, he bends over and scoops me up, carrying me like a groom does a bride when they’re about to cross over the threshold. I clench my teeth, not from the pain this time, but sheer determination not to get lost in the memories of our time together and the what-ifs that are sure to follow.

“Where’s your car?”

Mutely, I point in the direction. “I’m getting your clothes wet.” It’s the only thing I can think to say. Our faces are so close, and everything about him is familiar.

“Who cares,” he says.

I’ve heard people talk about muscle memory. Is that the same as body memory? Because my body remembers Dax’s. Nestling up against him brings back a host of wonderful memories. Kinda like when you hear that one song or catch a whiff of a certain smell, and the memory overcomes you. If my shirt wasn’t sopping wet and clinging to my skin, if my hip wasn’t throbbing, this would be a great moment. A sexy one. A moment I’d consider letting myself get lost in. After all, two years have passed since I was last naked with a man. And here is a gorgeous one who smells like sandalwood with a hint of vanilla and…hops? Nope, that’s me.

But one truth holds me back.

Having an entanglement of any sort with Dax would be stupid. Getting over him had taken what felt like a lifetime, and I can’t go through that again. Not that he’s even propositioned me.

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