Page 68 of A Much Younger Man
Dylan was a good kisser. Not spectacular. His reaction to Rico may have colored my perception of him. His kiss tasted like the delicate shudders I’d seen him give every time he glanced in the direction of Rico’s cage. Also, I hated his reaction to my cottage pie, which he very discreetly pushed out of smelling distance.
“Yeah,” I said. “No. I’m sorry. I’ve had a terrible day after a rough night.” He didn’t know the half of it. “I really just want to go to bed.”
“That can be—”
“Alone.”
Dylan’s eyes lost their sparkle, but it hadn’t seemed sincere anyway. Not like Beck’s, which came from all the light he carried inside him.
“All right.” Dylan sighed. “I had to try. You’re a catch, Doctor Davies.”
“I’m not, though. I’m happily single. I’d chew my leg off to get away from a relationship right now if it became necessary.” I hoped it wasn’t, or that maybe Beck hadn’t noticed my inconvenientfeelings,and it wouldn’t become necessary for him to chew his leg off.
Dylan went back to the stove. “My pot stickers are probably done.”
* * *
At midnight,I called April at the office. In the background I could hear the kittens mewling. She must have been feeding them.
“How is he?” I asked after Stripes.
“Better. He’s awake and alert now. Curious about the kittens.”
“Eating?”
“He nibbled a little food off my fingers.”
“Glad to hear it. It would kill me to have to tell Georgie his pet died because of their crash.”
“You old softie. Me too. Go back to sleep. I’ve got it covered.”
I blew out a breath. “I doubt I’ll be able to sleep. I have a guest.”
“Really? Who? I saw you leave with Beck—oh my God—”
“It’s not Beck. My mother set me up with someone I used to know, and things just—” Irritation bled into my voice. “He said he was too tipsy to drive. He’s in the guest room.”
“Oh. It went bust, huh? That’s what you get for letting your mother set you up.”
“I didn’t let her. She called before I left work to tell me she’d met someone we used to know, and I found him on my doorstep when I got home.”
She giggled. “Your mom is a hoot.”
“Her motto is better to apologize than ask permission.”
I heard more kitten mewling. “I guess.”
“Anyway, I imagine he’ll be expecting breakfast. I have barely anything here.” My mind immediately went to that morning—or was it yesterday—when I’d fed Beck spoonfuls of hot spicy oatmeal and berries by hand. “I’ll take Dylan to Bistro. Expect me at around eight thirty tomorrow unless something goes south. If you need me for anything, call.”
“Get some rest, Lindy. You really looked awful today.”
“Thank you so much for that observation.” I might have looked awful, but I had felt infinitely better than I did now with Dylan in the next room. I certainly felt happier. “Night, April.”
“Night.”
The next morning at Bistro,Dylan perused the menu for vegan items while I drank my first two cups of coffee. Fortunately, Bistro had several good choices for him.
I ordered a French toast combo with eggs and hash browns and plump homemade chicken-and-apple sausages. Dylan ordered the Mediterranean tofu scramble with dry toast and fresh fruit. Yum.
