Page 89 of Endgame

“If we’re being technical, then yes. But you and I have had more than just a friendship for some time now. I want my parents to see us together, to see you as the woman I’m crazy about, with just me, and no one else standing in the way of it.”

“I just...oh God. Not gonna lie, that makes me want to puke.”

She’s adorable. Flustered and blushed pink.

I pull her head to my lips and give her a chaste kiss. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure there are stacks of cookies in reach if things go south.”

She smacks my leg playfully, and I’m grinning like an idiot. I’m so deliriously happy it feels too good to be true.

Realizing we still have some time before closing, I lift Dakota to stand and smack her ass, driving her forward.

“Come on, my little racing queen. Ready to get that pretty ass beat in laser tag?”

37

DAKOTA

Tonight was a dream.

As much as I expected Callaway to make a move once the night ended, he handled himself like the gentleman he’s proven to be.

I can’t help but be appreciative of that.

Walking me back to my room at a decent hour, I still have life left in me, but his thoughtfulness over my sleep was not surprising. He dropped me off at my hotel door with a soft kiss, hoping to spend the plane ride home tomorrow together.

I’m smitten, and I don’t care who knows it.

He’s consistent.

Never pushing me further than my limits and making me comfortable to share things about myself I’ve kept locked away for so long. He makes it easy. If I could have conjured the idea of the most perfect date in my head, tonight was it.

Since meeting Callaway, there have been very few opportunities to genuinely miss him, seeing as how we work together daily. But tonight, the feeling of his touch still lingers, the way his strong arms wrap around me, holding me to him—it’s a security I’ve longed for.

I can’t remember the last time someone touched me intimately in a way that would show they lovedme. Trevor never did, which continues to make me feel stupid for putting up with him for so long—more so after being treated like a fucking queen by Callaway.

Although nothing about our night together was even remotely close to first base, I know our chemistry will undoubtedly be electric behind closed doors. I can feel it in the way he kisses me, like he’s pouring his entire self into the kiss. It flusters me bone deep.

I can’t wait to take it further.

But I’m not in a hurry to rush it; I’m enjoying the thrill of what’s to come. I think knowing there’s nothing holding us back and it’s attainable makes me excited rather than anxious for it.

After Callaway dropped me off, I jumped in the shower to freshen up for the night, washed my hair, and changed into a light blue lace tank and shorts night set. I’m such a hoe for hotel beds with all-white sheets, weighted blankets, and down pillows that feel like clouds. Surely a good night's sleep is in my future.

I can remember when I was in college, stressed beyond measure from all of my coursework and then working full time on top of that. My parents would send a carrier—usually Navy—with a surprise envelope for me to open. It was always unexpected and fitting when I needed it the most, but eventually, I caught on to their antics. The envelope usually contained a weekend hotel stay somewhere random and local for me to unplug and reset.

It did wonders for my mood.

I would leave feeling rejuvenated and motivated to grind harder at my goals. They loved me so intentionally; the memory makes my heart mourn.

Today, tonight, all of it, feels like one of those moments for me.

Giving myself over to the cool side of the pillow, I rest my eyes softly, soaking in the goodness of today, and wait for sleep to claim me.

The chime of my phone makes me jump. Reaching over, I unlock it to find a text from Callaway.

Callaway:I had fun tonight. Thanks for taking a chance on us.

He said us, not me. BRB, I’m melting.

---