Page 56 of Our Long Days
Fuck, Florence, he’d growled, head thrown back.Take me deeper. Take every inch.
A trickle of warmth blooms between my thighs. I snap them together and scurry back to my seat. Five minutes later, the table overflows with bowls of taco fillings, and his authoritative tone remains.
“Now, eat.”
Thankfully, he keeps his dominant nature at bay while we dig in. The silence during bites is nice, and we chat away about the summer camp and whether he’ll be coming to family dinner at my mom’s next week. After three mouthwatering fish tacos with pineapple salsa, I’m stuffed. Dex polishes his seventh portion off, and I collect the dishes, carrying them over to the sink.
My face wrinkles at the idea of washing up. “Do you have a dishwasher?”
“Nah. Seemed pointless with me living alone.”
I sense him behind me as hot water flows from the faucet, bubbles frothing under the spray. Tentatively, I lower the plates into the suds. It feels childish, but just thinking about a piece of food floating below the surface has my stomach rolling.
A warm palm lands on my waist, gently ushering me to the side. Dex fills the vacant spot, hands diving into the water, and starts scrubbing. He jerks his head at the dish towel. “I’ll wash. You dry. Deal?”
Swallowing down my embarrassment, I nod. “Deal.”
We’re halfway through the dishes when I blurt, “Since I was little, the feel of food floating in water has repulsed me. I’m not lazy. It’s a sensory thing. Another quirk of ADHD.”
He pauses, gaze lowered. “I like your quirks.”
“Good, because it’s too late to change me now anyway.” My joke falls flat.
Dex stands taller, ignoring the soapy water sloshing over the sides as he grips the edges of the sink. “I’d never fucking dream of it. And if anyone ever tells you otherwise, send them my way. You’re perfect, quirky traits and all.”
“Oh,” I squeak. “That’s sweet.”
He grunts like the caveman he is. Damn him for luring me here with the promise of tacos then melting me into a puddle. This isn’t what friends do.
There’s one bowl remaining when a drumming noise sounds above our heads.
“Oh, you weren’t wrong.” I point outside. “The heavens have opened.”
I jump out of my skin when he sprints to the backdoor, peering through the foggy window. “About fucking time.” He turns to me, expression giving nothing away, and offers me his hand. “C’mon, Little Sadler. Let’s go dancing.”
“Dancing? Why would we—” I suck in a breath.
My list.
2) Dance in the rain.
He steps forward. “I know you said to forget about it, but there’s a reason your dad left you that list. I’m sorry it’s not the letter you were hoping for. If anything, this is your chance to be close to him again. It’s what you bonded over.” Another step. “Think of it as a summer bucket list, something we can do together—as friends. If I’m overstepping, tell me, and you can do it alone. Just…” He scratches the scruff covering his jaw. “Please don’t let what happened last week be the reason you don’t complete it.”
After leaving his bedroom, I found the list and tucked it safely in its envelope. It felt stupid completing it by myself, and I wasn’t about to askmy bossto help me.
My heart jack hammers. “I’ve already asked too much from you.”
“You’ve asked nothing of me. This is my choice.” He clasps me by the shoulders, ducking his head to lock our gazes. “And hey, maybe this will get me out of the workshop on my days off.”
I roll my eyes. “You never take days off.”
“Even more reason we should do this together.”
I bite my tongue. “Do you know how to dance?”
“Not a chance, but we managed it at the wedding last year.”
Visions of us clumsily standing on each other’s toes flood my memory. I’d just returned to town, and we all attended Graham’s ex’s wedding, who’s a total witch. The only reason we went was because she was marrying our cousin, and we wanted to keep up appearances for our mom.
