Page 55 of Dahlia Made A List

Angling my head toward the spots arcing in a half-moon away from the movie screen, I said, “One of those.”

Her plump lips parted and her pretty eyes gleamed. “Really? We’re gonna watch a movie?”

“Why the shocked look? Did you not demand to see Star Wars?”

“Yeah, but when do you ever listen to me?”

Way more often than I’d admit. I climbed into the passenger seat of the El Camino and Dahlia swung the vehicle off the asphalt and into the grass, lining up smack in the center of the parking field.

“Facin’ the wrong way.”

She whirled to me, head tilted, a chunk of hair escaping her ponytail and flipping across her cheek. I tucked the hair back behind her ear, my lips pulling into a grin when her pretty blue-gray eyes went wide.

“I’ve got a box in the bed of your truck with a sleepin’ bag you’ll recognize, a six pack for me and trail mix for you. We’re not doin’ a marathon from back there, but we can make a dent in Number Six on your list.”

She squealed, bouncing on the old bench seat, then fired up the El Camino to angle the bed toward the fifty-foot screen. As soon as she turned off the ignition, I levered out of the car and dragged the cardboard box to the open tailgate. I’d brought more than just the sleeping bag and yanking out the rolled up mat, I spread that down first. Then opened the sleeping back to lay that out and topped it with a blanket.

I eyed the back of the cab. “Should’ve thought of pillows. That’s gonna be rough on the back after two hours.”

Dahlia wiggled at the other side of the bed where she straightened the corner of the sleeping bag into place. She looked up with a wide smile. “This is wonderful, Wyatt.”

I adjusted my cap and motioned for her to climb into the bed of her El Camino.

“What else do you have in that box? Full of surprises today, aren’t you?”

The last weak rays of the sun glinted off the ElCo’s chrome, but I still blamed the sun for the flush heating the back of my neck. “We doin’ this or what?”

She hopped to sit on the side of the bed of the truck, twisted until her feet landed on the bed and slanted me an amused look. “Chill, Mr. Grumpypants. We’re so doing this.”

I tossed her the bluetooth speaker that usually lived in the garage. “Pull up the app on your phone. Might as well test it for the sound.”

While she thumbed through her phone, I dragged my ass into the bed of the El Camino until I rested my back against the rear window. Next time I’d remember a pillow because leaning against the car was gonna get old fast.

A minute later, Dahlia lay pressed against my side, her hand resting on my stomach as she fiddled with her phone. Her tits against my side, her scent wreaked havoc with my self-control.

No hesitation out of her. Settling in next to me as though we were the leading characters in some chick flick.

As though we were a couple.

As though she belonged right here with me.

A bolt of pure want hit me with the thought, chased by straight-up fear. Wanting meant risk. Wanting meant vulnerability.

I controlled the projector from the laptop tucked into the corner of the Camino’s truck bed. The fifty foot wall rose up from a base of concrete and steel trellises holding all the plywood sheets, all of it painted white. A special kind of white I’d had no idea existed until I started renovating The Royal.

“Got it,” she said with a satisfied grin, tapping the phone on my belly.

Then the 20th Century Fox music announced the beginning of the movie, chased seconds later by the familiar sound of the Star Wars theme music. And the mammoth screen lit up with words crawling up the surface.

My gut knotted; a sensation I’d conquered a long time ago creeping back in. Words, big, bold and yellow, but distorted into gibberish between the screen, my eyes, and my mind.

Dahlia wiggled beside me, her excitement palpable as she read aloud in her sweet voice. Easily. Her happiness curling around the words about faraway galaxies and civil war—

“Wyatt!” She wedged herself up with her forearm to my chest, her eyes catching mine. “I need you to read the rest in your grumbly voice. Get us started right.”

The twist in my gut turned putrid and I stared past her shoulder.

“Come on, Wy. Say ‘the evil Galactic Empire’—”

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