Page 38 of Wildest Dreams

I’d never held a woman like this. Never been held like this either.

I was a stoic kid—independent, gruff, a rule follower, and above all, a selfish bastard. My parents weren’t affectionate outside their own dazzling marriage, and the best lesson they taught me was that love had the tendency to quickly turn into an all-consuming obsession, a mutant of insanity, so I stayed the hell away from it.

Growing up, I didn’t have girlfriends or relationships or anything that resembled intimacy. I had sex. Lots of it. But I’d always been up-front about what I was offering—a good time, a perfect date (if you could afford my rate)—nothing more, nothing less.

Her stomach grumbled between us. She hadn’t eaten. Where the hell had she been for seven, almost eight hours?

I untangled myself from her, waltzing over to the state-of-the-art kitchen. “You need a tall glass of whatever the fuck has the most alcohol in it and a hearty meal.” I tried to relax my jaw before it snapped and shot out of the Milky Way. I reachedstraight for the good whiskey in Row’s bar cart, pouring a generous amount into two tumblers.

“I didn’t realize you knew how to cook,” she sniffled, and I caught her in my periphery wiping her eyes quickly.

“I don’t,” I reassured her, “but I am fucking excellent with my phone and the DoorDash app.”

“I still need to put Grav to bed and take a shower…” She trailed off.

I spun around and handed her the drink I’d fixed for her. “Down a quarter. Now.”

She took a shaky sip but didn’t sass back this time.

“The child can wait.”

“Stop calling her the child like she’s something that needs to be extorted,” she scoffed, the color returning to her cheeks. “And it’s already past her bedtime. I promised her a story.”

“I’ll let her play a game on my phone.”

“She doesn’t know how to play mobile games.”

“She does now,” I confessed.

Dylan’s jaw went slack. She looked ready to pluck my nuts with a pair of tweezers.

“Hey, I was in survival mode, okay?” I grabbed her shoulders and swiveled her toward the hallway, physically escorting her to the master bedroom. “Go take your bath—I’ll order us food. I’ll read the chil—Gravity a bedtime story.” What difference did it make? I’d already wasted my entire day on the kid.

Dylan was reluctant to move, hugging her midriff. “She also needs a good-night kiss.”

“Consider it done.”

“And words of affirmation.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And…and…”

“Dylan.” I clutched her shoulders, forcing eye contact on her. “Go.”

I read the child Gravity a surprisingly entertaining book called I Need a New Butt. As far as I was concerned, it was the height of literature. Fart jokes? Check. Crack jokes? Check. Stupid pranks? Check. The kid was draining, but at least she had good taste in books. I then threw a blanket over her like I was putting out a fire.

“G’night.”

“Uncle Rhyrand, you forgot my good-night kiss.”

Internally gagging like a cat with a hair ball stuck in its airway, I leaned down and pressed my lips to her forehead. She had that tiny-human smell, somewhere between baked goods and a warm, fluffy pillow. I stood up. She blinked back at me in the dark. “Don’t forget words of affirmation, asshole.” Dylan’s words echoed in my head. Even in my head, she was busting my balls.

Also, crap. What should I say? I didn’t know this child, and whatever I knew didn’t exactly impress me.

“Let’s see. You…uh, aren’t too annoying for a kid?”

She tilted her head, searching my face through heavy-lidded blinks.

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