Page 64 of Puck You Very Much

Matt looked at him, surprised. “What?”

“It’s true,” Leon grumbled. “He gets the most female fan mail of all of us. Leslie said so the other day. But only because he’s so damn mysterious.”

“He's not mysterious,” Matt said incredulously. “He’s just too lazy to speak!”

“You’re both wrong,” Fox interjected. “Women like an authoritative leader who can keep a cool head.”

“Oh, boo, Fox!” Leon shouted with irritation, pulling the orange slice from his glass and throwing it at him. “Don’t act like that just because you’re losing to Moreau.”

Fox snorted. “I’m not losing to Moreau. You can’t lose at dating!”

“Tell that to the last ten women Dax slept with. They’d tell you something different,” Leon muttered.

“Lucy,” Dax’s dark voice suddenly cut through the chatter of the others, and her heart leaped into her throat. “Help us out. You’re a woman, right?”

She blinked and slowly turned her head. She met Dax’s piercing gaze and resisted the urge to look away again. “On good days, yes,” she replied dryly and nodded gratefully to the waitress who placed a beer in front of her.

“So tell us,” he said calmly, his gaze locked with hers, “what type of man do you like?”

She snorted. “I can’t speak for all the women in the world.”

“Okay, then speak for yourself,” he murmured, his voice growing softer with each word as he folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “What type of man do you like? The stoic, quiet, mysterious one—or the one who talks dirty to you while he takes you on the desk in a stranger’s office?”

She choked on her beer, spitting it onto the table in front of her.

Leon chuckled. “You have a wild imagination, Dax.”

Hm, sure: Imagination.

Lucy had never been so happy to hear her phone ring. She took the opportunity and abruptly rose. But before she answered, she replied tersely: “I like the honest one. The one who tells me what he thinks and what he wants, and who doesn’t intentionally make me angry just to get my attention.” With those words, she turned on her heels and stalked toward the exit where she didn’t have to think about Dax.

“Hello?” she answered, pressing the cell phone to her ear as she pushed the door open.

“Hello, is this Lucy James?”

Lucy stopped and frowned. “Yes. Who’s speaking?”

“Oh, thank God I reached you!” A sigh of relief echoed through her ear. “I tried to reach Maddie—she had given me your number in case of an emergency—but only her voicemail answered and I didn’t know who else to call about your father!”

“Who’s speaking?” Lucy repeated woodenly, wrapping her free arm around her upper body. An oppressive feeling had settled in in her chest, and she felt it was safer to hold on to her heart.

“Sorry, this is Mrs. Marsden. I live across the street from your father. You used to ring my doorbell for candy on Halloween.”

“Right,” Lucy replied softly, letting out a slow, drawn-out breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice. What about my father?”

She didn’t want to hear it. It would ruin her evening. Yet at the same time, she felt miserable for even thinking that. After all, he was her father! He had been there for her and now she was there for him…but it hurt. And it was exhausting. And her eyes were already burning even though she didn’t know what this was all about.

“Well, he’s still in the garden! It’s dark and cold and he’s been lying motionless on the hard ground for an hour, staring up at the sky. I went over earlier to ask him if he wanted to go inside and he just snapped at me, said some things that weren’t nice…” She cleared her throat audibly. “I can’t just leave him there. If he stays in the garden overnight, he’ll catch his death!”

Shit.

“He’s been there for an hour?” Lucy repeated, rubbing her clammy hand over her face and her tight chest.

“Maybe longer. I only noticed him an hour ago. I think he’s still okay, but I thought…”

“Yes, I understand. Thank you so much for calling, Mrs. Marsden. I’ll take care of it, okay? Don’t worry.”

Lucy didn’t know if she was saying the words for her old neighbor or for herself.

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