Page 30 of Our Long Days
“We need another player for Capture the Flag. You in? You can be on my team.” My toes curl into the sand at his deep voice.
I bet he doesn’t kiss like the boys in my class. Gregory Winter doesn’t use enough tongue, and the aftertaste of his bologna sandwich really killed the mood.
“Florence?” Dex chuckles, grabbing my attention.
Oh my god, he’s been speaking to me and I’ve laid here like a trout, gaping at him.
“I’m down for anything. Literally.” I beam up at him then switch to something less desperate and more subdued. Men like a bit of mystery.
He frowns. “Are you okay? Your face is…”
I slap a hand over my cheek. “What? Is it a bug?”
“No. You were smiling and then stopped.” I smile again, and so does he. “Yeah, that’s the one I want to see, Little Sadler. So, you’ll play?”
He continues chatting away, oblivious to the thunderstorm of emotions cracking and flashing in my tummy.
Little Sadler.
A nickname. For me. From him.
It’s like my birthday and Christmas combined.
I nod along, agreeing to anything and everything he says as I stare dreamily into his eyes.
“Perfect. Thanks, Florence. Meet us by the water in ten.” He winks and walks away, shooting the shit with my brothers and hooking Patrick into a headlock.
Yep. This confirms it. I am 110 percent crushing on Dexter Moore, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I find a calm and collected Dex studying me when I return from the memory, his usual mask in place.
It’s clear the one-time only agreement is concrete, exactly what we agreed. He’s completely unaffected, unlike me.
But this is my chance.
When Kelsey sent his name and address, I thought my brothers or mom had something to do with this. I was ready to reject his pity hire, but now, my words are all jumbled.
He scrapes a hand down his bare stomach, catching on the dark hair covering his torso. He’s not too hairy, just enough to make my ovaries squeal in appreciation.
My eyes snap up. His lips press together, cheeks flushed, as he reaches for his t-shirt, tugging it over his head.
Party over.
I need to be mature about this. People sleep with their bosses all the time. Booth and Aly are a prime example.
Ready to accept his offer, I step forward, but the white goat chooses that moment to nudge my leg. Startled, I squeal.
It stiffens then collapses.
“Oh my god! I killed it!”
Dex snorts. “It’s fine, he do?—”
“This isn’t funny. I’m a murderer.” I drop to my knees, tears obscuring my vision. “What do we do? CPR? Mouth-to-mouth?”
A warm hand cups my shoulder. “He’s not dead. He fainted.”
“What?” I gasp and face Dex, who is now very close, kneeling in the dirt behind me.
