Page 86 of The Single Dads Club
Dak blinks at me for a second, then chuckles again, but it sounds uneasy this time. “Your sense of humor sucks, man.”
I level my gaze at him, keeping a neutral expression. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not making any jokes.”
Another stare, much longer and more frowning this time. “You’re serious.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” I say testily.
“Why the hell are you asking me about Corrigan?”
“It’s just a question, Dak. We’re all adults here.” I shrug, trying to act casual, but my heart is pounding.
“No offense, Lex, but I’m not sure how much faith to put in that. You don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to women.”
It’s a low blow. Yes, I spent my twenties fucking around and ended up with a kid I never planned on, butfuck.
“I like to think I’ve done right by Grier.” My voice is low, dangerous, challenging.
“You have. But caring for a two-year-old isn’t the same thing as having a successful relationship. I think you know that and you’re playing dumb on purpose just to—” Dak abruptly gets up and sets his still half-full bottle on the table. “Sorry, I should probably go. My shift starts soon.”
“Thanks for the beer,” I reply flatly.
When he’s gone, I lock the door behind him and pour out his beer into the sink, feeling more agitated than ever.
Well, that little chat didn’t fucking help.
Chapter Thirteen
Corrigan
At eight a.m. on the dot, my alarm clock blares with its familiar deafening cry. And for the first time in years, I slap my hand onto the snooze.
It’s not like me to be sleeping in, but it’s also not like me to stay up half the night thinking about a guy. But that’s exactly what I did last night. Lexington Dane has been occupying my thoughts almost one hundred percent of the time since the night I turned him down. Also known as the last time I spoke to him.
And the silence between us has had two major effects on me.
The first is that it has me brainstorming an unending list of questions. Is Lex mad at me? Hurt? Am I still Grier’s nanny? Am I ever going to stop obsessively checking my phone, hoping to hear from him?
And as if that wasn’t enough, see exhibit B, the second, more dangerous effect.
You know that old saying,absence makes the heart grow fonder? Well, my heart is growing fond, all right. A little too fond. As in at leastone sex dream about him a nightfond. And while I know that sayingnoto a date with him was the responsible thing to do, it seems like my sex drive isn’t feeling particularly responsible lately. Yay for me.
Eight minutes pass in the blink of an eye, and there goes my alarm again, screaming that it’s time to get up. With a sigh, I shove off the covers and turn my alarm off, then immediately reach for my phone, hoping to see a notification from Lexington.
But no, just a few news notifications and a text from Sarah Jo, double-checking that we’re on for lunch tomorrow.
I fire back a quick response to her, then hold down the side button until the screen goes black. My phone needs a time-out. Or rather, I need a time-out from my phone. I need to unplug and stop wondering about Mr. You-Know-Who. And I’ll never get out of my head if I don’t get out of the house. Luckily, I know just the way to do it. It’s too beautiful out to worry the day away, and in my experience, there isn’t a problem in this world that a little sunshine and ocean air can’t wash away.
I do a load of laundry, and then hop into the shower with my hair up in a messy bun so I can shave my legs. As I finish the few remaining chores around my apartment, I hatch a plan about how I can spend my day.
With my chores done, I march over to my closet, change into my go-to baby blue bikini, and slip on a gauzy white cover-up. It takes me a few minutes to dig up last summer’s beach bag from the back of my closet. There’s still a tube of suntan lotion in there, along with a very expired bag of trail mix. Shame on Last Year Corrigan for not properly cleaning this thing out.
After tossing the trail mix into the trash, I pack my bag with all the essentials—a fluffy pink towel, sunscreen, and my favorite well-worn paperback I’ve read every summer for the past five years. All the perfect ingredients for a beach day to get my mind off of this whole Lexington situation. I’m going to lay out, reread this fluffy chick-lit book, and get my tan on. This day is going to be a stress-free zone. No Lexington. No drama.
On my way out the door, I snag my oversized sunglasses, then pile my things into the passenger seat and zoom off toward the beach. It’s a quick drive, and I find the luckiest parking spot right by the ice cream parlor where Lexington and I had our first date all those years ago. Which, of course, has me feeling all types of things about him again.
Ugh. Maybe if I can go one full hour without this man crossing my mind, I’ll treat myself to a scoop of double-chocolate fudge.
My flip-flops slap against the sidewalk as I make my way toward the sand, scoping out a little stretch of beach to call my own. But a certain set of familiar broad shoulders and a low, throaty laugh send my stomach bottoming out to my kneecaps.
