Page 74 of Hate You, Maybe
Or even bad at all.
You make me feel safe.
I never imagined myself in a relationship with any man, let alone a coworker.
Let alone you.
While my brain and heart swirl in opposite directions, Dexter slowly lowers his chin, deliberately pressing his mouth to one side of my temple. Then he moves over to lavish his lips on the other side. Finally, he meets in the middle and gifts me with a tender kiss right above my eyebrows.
And I’m here to report that the sweetest, softest kiss of my life is a forehead kiss.
Go figure.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dex
What a night.
After Bob and Hildy disappeared to what he, somewhat regrettably, referred to as their “love den,” Tori suggested we collect Caroline and score some hot cocoa for the walk back to the cabins. I said that sounded great. Especially if there was whipped cream and mini marshmallows for the cocoa.
Things got even better when Sayla offered to bring a mug back for me, so I could leave to grab a quick shower tonight. She’d barely finished the sentence, and I was thanking her, then trotting down the path to our cabin. I wasn’t gonna get a chance to be alone with her anyway. I figured I might as well get cleaned up, throw on some fresh clothes, and wait for her on the porch to talk.
We have plenty to discuss.
Like the half kisses I planted on her, which were supposedly just for show. And the fact that Bob and Hildy think we’re a couple now, too. Not just Tori. More importantly,though, I’ve got to deal with the fact that tonight solidified a shift in my attitude toward Sayla.
She’s no longer just a coworker I enjoy riling up. She isn’t some woman I want to keep at arm’s length to fight a stupid physical attraction. Sayla Kroft is so much more than her beautiful surfaces. She’s someone I genuinely care about. Respect. Admire, even.
The urge to protect her has been growing in me for a while, and I know those emotions could get tricky. They already are. So it’s time to come clean with her. I need to confess my feelings are real. Or maybe I should lead with admitting to the first stirrings of feelings. Just the barest beginnings. Nothingtoocrazy.
I don’t want to scare her off, after all. With her history, Sayla’s like a baby bird newly hatched in my hand. If I freak her out too much, she’ll fly away. Possibly never to return. So I’d better move slowly. Start with a gentle pet of her feathers.
Like forehead kisses.
Yeah. That.
Steam fills the bathroom by the time I finish my shower, heating the air, fogging the mirror. Kinda like the heat and fog in my Sayla-addled brain. So I quickly towel off, work my sweats and T-shirt over my still-damp skin, and take a deep breath. I’m not fully ready to get this vulnerable with her, but then again, I may never be. We’re ripping off Band-Aids here. One strip at a time.
Speaking of which, I should probably check on Sayla’s blisters tonight, offer to change the bandages, smooth on some more Neosporin. She hasn’t complained about her feet all day, but I’ve learned that’s no guarantee she hasn’t been suffering. Like me, she buries a lot of pain inside her, and this knowledge cracks loose a wedge of granite in my chest.
I want to be the one Sayla opens up to now. Then, maybesomeday, I’ll open up to her, too. So I emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, ready to talk.
“Don’t worry, Kroft. I’m fully dressed toni?—”
Oh. The cabin’s empty.
A sliver of disappointment pricks my gut, but now I have time to snag some Band-Aids and Neosporin from my first aid kit before she returns. Except my kit is on the nightstand. Also on the nightstand are two ceramic mugs heaped with mini-marshmallows.
She’s already back.
As I take my mug with me outside, a smile hooks my mouth like I’m a fish caught on a line. I expect to find Sayla in one of the Adirondack chairs, but the porch is deserted, too. Huh. Our lanterns are both next to the door. If she made it back to deliver my cocoa, where is she now?
I drag my hand along the rough wood of the railing, and a splinter snags my palm. I’ve got tweezers in my first aid kit, but no patience. So I just bite the shard out quick and spit it out into the night.
Moonlight drenches the path to the main lodge, reflecting off the gravel, but all around the cabin, the forest is black. Crickets chirp in the darkness. A rustling of leaves hums in the air. There’s a burst of laughter inside Tori’s place.
I’ll bet Sayla’s in there.
