Page 14 of Dahlia Made A List

Nothing like dead grandmotherly types to kill an erection. “Never too late, I suppose.”

She gasped, as though I’d revealed a great secret. “You know what? You’re right.”

She slid down off the stool and hurried to a little desk. After digging around in one of the drawers, she straightened with a pen and a bright blue Post-It. “I’m adding ‘learn to drive’ to The List.”

I leaned to the side and dug my pocket knife out of my jeans to cut the plastic packaging away and open the new doorknob and lock set. Concentrated on pulling out the parts and not asking the question begging to be asked.

“I had so much fun with Minerva and the Shameless Readers last night. And they convinced me to make a sort of bucket list. But instead of listing all the things I want to do before I die, I’m listing all the things I can do instead of having sex.”

The knife slashed through the plastic and door knobs and screws clattered onto the hardwood floor. My screwdriver bounced over the threshold and rolled right off the edge of the landing.

I could feel her smirk, no need to fucking look to confirm it, but I did anyway.

She perched on the edge of the stool, her eyes sparkling with laughter, the corner of her pink, pink lips tipped up. The image of those lips wrapped around my dick crashed into my brain.

She slid from the stool and knelt close enough that the scent of wild honeysuckle made my mouth water. Sweet vanilla mixed with rich honey and if she leaned even a breath closer, I’d be wrapping my hand in her hair and her eyes wouldn’t be wide with a hint of laughter, but heavy-lidded and melting with need.

She blinked, breaking the spell, and tipped her chin toward the floor. I shoved to my feet and out the door.

When I returned a minute later with my screwdriver in hand and my fuckin’ dick as close to subdued as I could manage until I had some one-on-one time, she’d moved to the other side of the breakfast bar.

I finished the door without comment. But the image of her pink lips and my dick didn’t fade.

Fuckin’ hell. Just the complication I needed.

Chapter Five

Dahlia

Rainslasheddown,sheetsof water blown almost sideways by the wind. I stood just under the awning at the entrance to Maia’s salon, just out of reach of the downpour turning Main Street into a river. I’d already traded my pretty pink heels for my trusty Converse and had a bright yellow umbrella at the ready, but with the force of the torrent pouring down, I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t be washed away like a spent flower no matter my preparations.

It almost made me wish for the cold again. I’d take walking home in the snow over sideways rain any day. My one late night at the salon and Mother Nature had to send a monsoon.

Learning to drive couldn’t happen soon enough. I even had some money saved up I could use to get a nice used car. Maybe something small and flashy like Maia’s Miata. Or like the cherry red muscle car I saw parked on the street sometimes. I laughed. My stash of money wouldn’t cover either of those, but I’d never thought about what kind of car I might want before, and it was fun to imagine the possibilities.

I shifted from one foot to the other, gauging the intensity of the storm. Could be gone in a couple minutes. This was Virginia, after all. Our weather changed between one heartbeat and the next. I could go back inside. Wait out the deluge. Maia had taken off hours ago, but she wouldn’t mind me lingering inside. She’d let me talk out the ideas whirling in my head for my list between clients all day, helped me chisel the random ideas down into a solid ten items. I couldn’t wait to dig in and figure out how to make each one happen.

Headlights blazed through the downpour just before a giant truck pulled up to the curb. Blinding light, aimed right at me. I glared back at the inconsiderate dickhead shining their full beams and lighting me up like a Christmas tree until they angled the truck’s passenger side closer to the sidewalk. The window lowered, and Wyatt Weston slouched behind the steering wheel, his eyes shadowed but the intensity of his focus prickling the tiny hairs along the backs of my arms.

“Get in.”

I couldn’t really hear his words over the rain drumming a wild beat against the awning over my head, but street lights dappled the dark of the cab and I saw his lips move. Besides, why else would he have stopped right in front of me? My belly did a funny little flip.

I scrambled out from under the awning and toward his truck. My foot slid on the wet running board, and I just about lost my biscuit between trying to hold on to my bag, the umbrella and haul open the door. I caught myself at the last second and laughing, I used the handle over the door to haul myself inside the warm, dry truck. “Guess that’s why they call these the ‘oh shit’ handles, huh?”

He didn’t reply but waited while I stowed my bag and umbrella beside my feet and fastened the seatbelt.

“This is a treat and perfect timing! Thanks for the lift, Wyatt. Pretty soon I won’t be bumming rides.”

“Your list.”

“Yep, Maia gave me Easy Wade’s information. Said she’d be a great one to teach me to drive. Ms. Minerva suggested you, but I figured—”

“Why Easy?”

I shrugged. “I guess she has the time?”

He didn’t respond, turning the truck in the direction of my house, only the staccato rhythm of the downpour marring the silence. I plucked at the stitching of my purse. I wanted to ask what he was doing out in the rain. Weston Mill didn’t have a lot going on after dark. Except for The Wooden Onion. I snuck a look toward Wyatt. I’d met Brandon at The Onion. He’d stepped into line beside me one night while I was shakin’ my ass doing the Cupid Shuffle. Wyatt didn’t look like he spent much time line dancing.

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