Page 16 of The Girl He Loves

Chapter 6

Friday

Maybe it’sbecause the day was so stinking awful. Maybe it’s because Dax’s hug comes when I need one the most. Even though I totally embarrassed myself in front of him. But that doesn’t seem to matter. Right here, right now, I don’t want this moment to end. I don’t want to go home with a bruised and aching hip to a dishwasher that doesn’t work, a toilet that runs off and on, a yard that needs mowing, and the host of other issues that will greet me in the morning.

I want to be Heather Lowell one last time. Heather Lowell who only has to think about today.

I ask, “What was one thing about our time together you remember the most.”

He says without hesitation, “We laughed a lot. All the time. I can’t even remember why we laughed sometimes, but we did.”

“Yeah,” I say. “We did. Usually some competition we’d dream up.” I worked at the gym where Dax and the team worked out, and I’d always challenge him to some silly race or weightlifting reps.

“Or sex,” Dax says. “We laughed a lot while having sex.”

I pushed away in mock annoyance. “Not during sex. Before and after sex.” My keys are in my hand, so I press the unlock and the back-passenger door open button without looking. “There was nothing funny about our sex.”

Dax tosses his head back and laughs. “No, but it sure was fun. We found some creative places to, ahem, connect.”

I pitch my purse in the van along with my keys and sit on the floor, my back resting partly against the seat. I stretch my leg and aching hip, rubbing the spot where I hit the foot peg.

“Yeah, I’m not sure I had an ounce of modesty back then. Now, I’m horrified to think about all those places. It was a miracle we weren’t ever caught.”

He kneels by my leg, pushes my hand away, and takes over the massage. “I’ve had plenty of injuries in my day. I’m good at massages.” He kneads the area.

And I moan with relief. “Man, that feels good.”

“It’s all about getting to that muscle belly. That’s where the muscle fibers can be tapped.” He taps the length of the muscle that runs along my outer leg, then goes back to the center of it and rubs his thumb into the muscle.

I shift so I can lean back. I reach under the passenger seat, the one where my kid’s booster seat is latched to, and pull up on the adjuster handle to scoot the seat back and give me more room.

Dax peers into the back of the van. “Wow, these have lots of space.”

“There’s a third row there, but I keep it down to haul all sorts of things but mainly groceries.” I had to haul Tyler’s sleep monitor last week since his doctor is doing a sleep study to assess if seizures happen at night. I also keep blankets, a bin of food, and water for emergencies. I’m ever the practical person these days.

“I think this van is badass.” He rubs my upper thigh and looks at me.

In the dim beam of my van’s interior light, our eyes meet. His hand rests on my leg and my relaxed body tenses as a surge of sexual need shoots through me. I’d love for his hand to roam, and I hate myself for wanting it so badly.

His thumb strokes small circles on my thigh. “If I had one wish, I’d wish for one more night with you.”

For the longest time after we broke up, I had that same wish. Sex wasn’t the only thing I missed about Dax; more the easy companionship we shared.

And sitting here, talking with him, his hand on my leg, only emphasizes how lonely I’ve been. A person can get hugged by their family or child, but it’s different from being hugged by a man who’s sexually interested. Inside me, something sparks to life. It's a part that’s been on hold for a long time. Neglected and lonely.

I lean forward so our faces are close. “We have right now. Right here. This van. Just you and me.”

He holds my gaze. “Heather, that’s not a funny joke.”

“It's not a joke. This may sound crazy, but I want to be Heather Lowell again. Just for a few hours.”

“Like Cinderella with a glass slipper.”

“Only I don’t mind going back to my kid. He’s awesome. But right now, I’d like to be more than someone’s mom.”

“You’re the hottest mom I’ve ever seen. Especially with how that shirt clings to your chest. Makes it hard for a man to look you in the eyes. All those guys on the street were checking you out. I was glad your hurt leg gave me an excuse to carry you.”

“You don’t have to flatter me, Dax. I’m a sure thing tonight, but if you keep talking, I might change my mind.”

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