Page 12 of Dahlia Made A List

Thinking of the lake had me thinking of Dahlia wearing a hell of a lot less than she had on now. Wondering what her mouth-watering ass would look like out of her jeans and in cut-offs, or even a skimpy little bikini.

Had me wondering what she smelled like and I’d bet it wasn’t sticky sweet fruit left too long in the sun. I imagined putting my face against her throat, sucking in a breathful of her scent.

I scraped my hand along my jeans, as though the motion could give my dick a little more room.

A few minutes out from her place, she spoke again. “Sorry about the locks. I should have talked to you first. To be fair, I didn’t know I was going to be changing them until the last minute.”

“Had a spare on hand, though.” I’d wondered about that.

She shifted in the leather bucket seat, stretching one long leg out under the dash. “Yeah.”

Gut instinct, maybe. Or she knew she had a bad one with that pretty boy. “I’ll be by late tomorrow afternoon to change 'em.”

“I can just give you the spare key to the one I put in? I hate to put you out.”

Too late. “I got a brand I like.”

Thenextday,Isat in the Silverado and endured the curious looks from the neighbors with my phone to my ear as Grams laid out her plans for the Weston Mill Kite Festival in a few weeks. I murmured when it seemed appropriate, waiting for my turn to speak.

When she paused, I launched. “What about the papers, Grams?”

“I’m still goin’ over them.”

“Everything’s just like you and me and Millsy talked about.”

“Your granddad and I spent many a night out at that old drive-in.”

“I know you did, Grams.”

“Not sure I’m ready to part with the place just yet.”

I ground my teeth. “You were ready last week. What’s changed?”

“Did you get Dahlia home alright last night?”

With a deep inhale through my nose, and a tight hold on my impatience, I said, “You know I did.”

“I like that girl.”

I grunted.

“She’s going through some things.”

“Going through boyfriends, seems like.”

“Be nice, Wyatt. Sometimes we all just need a helping hand.”

“I’m at 26 Rosebud right now. Waiting on her so I can change her locks.”

“Good boy. You keep on helping Dahlia, and I’ll get these papers figured out.”

I clenched my eyes closed then. A devil’s bargain with my grandmother. But what choice did I have?

Like she did every month, she invited me to the family dinner held out on Uncle J.T.’s property. And like I did every month, I declined. A moment later we ended the call, and I stared hard down the street.

At first, I didn’t notice her, but as the woman walking toward me waved at neighbor after neighbor, recognition kicked in.

She’d changed her hair. She damn near skipped down the sidewalk, hair bouncing around her head; a wide, happy smile accompanying the wave she sent Ms. Lester. And damn, if that crotchety old woman didn’t turn her back to Dahlia. Guess she held a mean grudge for the Azalea Assault.

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