Page 14 of Endgame

This firecracker is tougher than nails. It’s likely the result of trials that have knocked her down, giving her no choice but to fight.

She’s a woman with pain so thick I should be fleeing. Except all I find myself wanting to do is run towards her.

Dakota’s mood continues to dim as we carry the boxes to her apartment. I insisted on making sure the boxes were secure on her doormat after she reassured me she could do it on her own.

I’ve never been one to listen.

As we reach the final set of stairs on her floor, I pull out all the stops to bring out a smile I’m sure she purposefully keeps hidden. I’m not sure what to say to make her feel better, knowing it’s not my place, so I do what’s been done to me before and has always managed to make me laugh.

“Did you know the oldest cat ever to live was thirty-eight years and three days old? He was proudly namedCream Puff. The old pussy resembled a Pillsbury dough boy.”

Smack my ass and call me crazy, but she smiled.

Winner.

I think I even caught a chuckle.

That’s the first sign of personality, outside of hostility and hurt, I’ve seen from her yet, and it’s one for the books.

She’s beautiful. Her smile and all.

“You’re funny.” She says it like a statement, but it feels like a question. She wasn’t expecting me to have a sense of humor. I’m happy to prove her wrong.

“You seem surprised by that.”

I’m captivated as our eyes lock, standing less than two feet apart, as Dakota studies me thoughtfully.

“It’s refreshing.”

Why the fuck did I just feel butterflies? Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?

Knowing that I provided her with a moment of refreshment kicks my ego up a notch. Hell yes.

But that’s not what catches me off guard; it’s her bright hazel eyes.

The color is similar to tones of moss with flecks of a whiskey amber hue and the brightest blue pigment speckled throughout, yet the shadow of her pain is visible. She’s a woman I can see who has so much good in her; she needs someone who cares enough to pull that goodness out of her. She needs someone to show her how tolivedespite the shit life throws her way and to accept the good things that do.

My wandering thoughts give her the chance to catch me staring. It’s not a feeling of lust; although the attraction is there, I’m choosing to ignore it. However, I have to admit, I see something really fucking beautiful in her as a person despite how reserved she is.

I feel her short intake of breath as her eyes lock in on the veins tightening in my neck, then slowly rise to my lips. As much as I’d love to entertain her admiration, I’m here to help her, and see that she makes it home safely.

Our silent moment lingers, the clearing of her throat interrupting our pause. “Thanks for the ride, Callaway. And for all the other stuff too.”

I flash her my cheesiest grin and walk backward from her door, careful not to fall and bust my ass. She’s teetering on the threshold of her door with amusement written across her perfectly tan skin.

“Anytime, angel. Don’t hesitate to ask if you need help with that truck.”

She nods before crouching down to lift a box and carry it inside.

Since I’m unable to help myself, I call out to her. “Dakota.”

She spins so quickly; you’d think I scared her. Her eyebrows shoot up in a question, silently asking why I stopped her.

“I hope today gets better.”

I’m darting down the stairs before she has a chance to respond.

She feels like the farthest thing from an inconvenience.

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