Page 36 of Loathe Thy Neighbor

“You almost had me, but I distinctly remember putting it in my bag.”

“Then you took it out when we went down the ice cream aisle because if you ran out of creamer, you’d just stop by The Gravy Train.” He sighs again. “Trust me, I did not steal your shit.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He pushes up from the chair and grabs his plate, taking it to the sink. “That’s too damn bad, because it’s the truth.”

I cross my arms, leaning against the counter, watching him.

He rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt in a way that makes his forearms pop, especially when he reaches for the sponge. He lightly scrubs his plate, then pops it into the dishwasher before moving on to the other dishes in the sink.

“You don’t need to do that. That’s my mess—I can clean it up.”

He ignores me and continues to pre-wash all the dishes like the dishwasher wasn’t invented to do that exact job.

Whatever. If he wants to double-wash everything, he can waste his time.

His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth as he concentrates on what he’s doing.

The smell of something that most definitely isnotdish soap washes over me.

It’s Dean.

Cinnamon and cedarwood.

The spice comes from that damn gum he’s always chewing, and the woodsy scent must be from his cologne.

I find myself wanting to lean into him, to get better acquainted with the fragrance, because I’ve never smelled a combination so enticing before.

He makes a noise, and I realize I’m just standing here watching and sniffing him like a creep.

What the hell am I doing? Why am I still standing here? Just walk away, River…

Except for some reason, I don’t.

“So, any plans for the day?” I ask.

“I’m heading to school today to start getting my classroom ready for classes next week. It was on my agenda before the fire.”

“You teach English, right?”

“Yep.”

“Sam said it was his favorite class last year. Surprising, because that kid hates reading.”

A smile curves over Dean’s lips. “I like hearing that. Sam’s a good student. He always asked such…interesting questions about the reading assignments. Came at them from an unexpected angle a lot of times. Surprised me, something that’s harder to do the longer I teach.”

“Have you been teaching long?”

“About four years now. I worked at my father’s company straight out of high school for a while, but it wasn’t what I wanted to do. I quit, enrolled in school, and have been teaching since.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. Don’t get me wrong, it has its bad days, but every job does.” He shrugs. “Can’t imagine myself doing much else.”

I can understand that. It’s how I feel about Making Waves.

“Why’d you sleep like shit last night?”

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