Page 42 of Luck of the Draw

His smile instantly fell, and he wrapped one of his glorious arms around my back. “That won’t be an issue.”

His mouth lowered to mine, and I sank into him, still marveling that we were here together. That theme Nicole had written that I had picked out of a fishbowl at Bad Luck Club had, in some circuitous way, brought me here, to the steps of a stranger’s house, to this gorgeous, sweet man who looked at me like I was chocolate lava cake. Talk about luck of the draw.

He leaned back, staring into my eyes. “So where do we go from here?”

My heart stuttered. “I don’t know, but I feel like maybe I need to take this slow.” Some of the sparkle faded from his eyes, and it was obvious he thought this was a prelude to me running again, or pushing him away. So I reached up to cup his cheek. “Iwantthis, Dylan. More than I can say. But my boys…”

A soft smile filled his eyes. “Deeandra, I understand. I appreciate that you want to see how we work out before you introduce me to them.”

I laughed. “Thatship has already sailed. Ollie asked me a million questions about you in the car.”

“I’m sorry that I left like that,” he said with a frown. “I should have given you a chance to explain.”

“Given the way I left your apartment, I guess we’re even,” I said.

“I’m not keeping score,” he said. “That’s not the kind of man I am.”

My heart warmed. “I’m not like that either.”

“We both made mistakes,” he said. “Maybe we should start over.”

“I like the sound of that.”

My phone dinged in my pocket, and I heard Dylan’s phone go off too.

“What do you want to bet it’s Dottie?” Dylan asked as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He read the screen, his face lighting up, then turned the screen toward me.

Once you two have worked things out, you should retrieve the Tupperware containers from Dylan’s back seat. I’ll hold off Stella.

“Told you there’d be dessert. God knows what she’s doing to hold Stella off. But I’m pretty sure Ollie was right, and I was painted onto a goat’s body.”

“I think I’d like to see that.”

But my mind pinged to Ollie. To Liam. The boys would want to know where I’d gone and why I wasn’t back yet.

“I’m supposed to be getting dessert for our celebration dinner at Sam’s, and although I realize Sam sent me here, I really should get back to my boys,” I said with a sigh, getting to my feet. “But I don’t want to leave you again.”

He got up and took my hand. His palm was warm and reassuring, and I felt like we were exactly where we needed to be, a feeling that sank deep into my bones. I couldn’t get over how right he felt.

“You’re not going to lose me this time,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he held up his phone. “Thanks to Dottie, I’ve got your number. It looks like Dottie included us in a group text.”

I laughed and we walked to Dylan’s car. He retrieved the two containers out of the back seat. The smaller one had a yellow square Post-it on it that said,Reconciliation, and the larger one had a note that said,Hope. He glanced through the side of the second container and handed it to me. “I think this might be what you’re looking for.”

I popped open the lid and saw a small white frosted cake covered with sprinkles. My mouth dropped open in shock as I looked up at Dylan. “How did you know Ollie would drop the sprinkle cake?”

“Ididn’t,” he said, holding his free hand up in surrender. “Dottie put the containers in my car when I picked her up.”

“What’s in that one?”

He peeked inside the lid, then opened it all the way. “Looks like a piece of key lime pie.” A sly grin spread across his face. “Big enough for us to share.”

I smiled at the Post-it note. Sharing seemed to fit the reconciliation theme. “I think I have time to eat some before I go.”

He bent down and reached into the back seat, then stood back up with two spoons in his hand. “Figured they’d be here. Dottie thinks of everything.” Taking my hand again while still holding the spoons, he said, “She has food for every occasion, and somehow she knows exactly what people need or want. Same with beer in the tasting room. She could serve people blind and get them the right beers. Just wait until she serves you tiny cakes, but watch out for the red ones. She says they’re for emotional cleansing, but really they’ll just burn a hole in your palate.”

I laughed a little—“duly noted”—as he led me to the steps and we sat down. I set the larger container on the step above us, then dipped my spoon into the meringue, getting a spoonful that included a full cross section, down to the flaky crust.

“So you got a new job?” he asked.

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