Page 13 of Going, Going, Gone
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After straighteningup Dylan’s guest bathroom following a refreshing shower, Nessa placed her dirty clothes in a plastic bag he’d given her. She’d turned down his offer to throw them into his washing machine. He’d already done so much for her already, she couldn’t ask him to do that. She was now wearing a pair of his sweatpants, with the drawstring pulled as tight as possible and the legs rolled up several times, so she didn’t trip over them, and a T-shirt she was swimming in, as he’d predicted.
Once she was certain all was in order, she took the bag and the two towels she’d used for her hair and body, then opened the door. She padded barefoot down the hallway of his three-bedroom ranch toward the kitchen where she could hear him puttering around. Like her, he was now wearing comfortable sweats and a T-shirt, although his molded his tight ass and muscular chest in a way that almost made her drool. She wondered what he did to keep his body in such good shape. Hearing her enter the room, he looked up from seasoning two steaks. “Hi. Oh, you could have left the towels in there, but since you have them, you can toss them in the washer in there.”
He cocked his head toward a closed door on the other side of the room. Opening the door, she saw it was a very organized looking laundry room, just like the rest of his house, with plenty of space to move around. When she put the towels in the machine, she noticed his dirty clothes were already in there. Nessa poked her head back into the kitchen. “Should I start the washer?”
“Nope, I’ll do it later, but thanks for asking. A buddy is a plumber and I have to call him to come by to look at it. The other day, it started making a huge racket whenever I ran it. My repair knowledge on large appliances is limited, so it’s good to have someone I can outsource the work to, knowing he won’t charge me an arm and a leg.”
Closing the door again, she set the plastic bag on the floor under the table. “Can I help with anything?”
“Well, that depends. Do you want beer, wine, or soda?”
“Um, wine sounds good.”
“Great. If you go into the dining room, there’s a wine rack if you want a red, and a wine fridge if you want a white. Pick whatever you’re in the mood for and there’s a wine opener in the drawer of the credenza and glasses in the hutch. You can grab me one too, please. In the meantime, I’ll throw these on the grill. Come outside when you’re ready. I already put the plates and stuff on the table out there.”
Dylan headed out the door to the patio while Nessa wandered into the dining room and selected a bottle of red with a label she recognized. She found everything where he’d said it would be and, moments later, joined him on the patio, setting both glasses and the half empty bottle on the table that was already set and waiting for them. Dylan lived on a nice, quiet cul-de-sac. The house wasn’t too large or too small—as Goldilocks would say it was “just right.” The backyard had been freshly mowed in the last day or so and was surrounded by trim, stately hedges, which gave him privacy from his neighbors. In the corner of the patio, there was a covered hot tub and Nessa had an image flash in her mind of him lounging in the bubbly water with her while they were both naked. She quickly tore her gaze away from the tub and forced the wayward thoughts from her mind. While Dylan had flirted with her, he hadn’t given her any indication he wanted more from her than just friendship. After their auction date, she hadn’t seen him again until today, but they had spoken on the phone in between, arranging for a time to meet at her Aunt Elise’s. She wouldn’t mind having him as a friend, but the butterflies she felt in her stomach and the yearning in her core would drive her crazy every time she saw him. No, she wanted something more with him, but she’d never been the aggressor in a relationship. How did she let him know she was interested in actually dating him? Wait, what was it he’d said earlier about dinner tonight? Whether they had dinner here or at a restaurant, it would be their second date.Oh, God, this is so confusing! Why can’t guys just have a flashing sign over their heads that say whether they’re interested in a woman?
“What’s that frown for?” Dylan asked, wearing his own frown as he stared at her from where he stood next to the barbecue a few feet away.
She was pulled from her musing “Huh? Oh ... um ... nothing. Just ... um ... going over a bunch of things—for work—in my mind.” His expression said he didn’t believe her. Nessa glanced around the table, looking for a way to change the subject. “Do we have everything we need?”
His eyes narrowed for a moment, then relaxed. “I think so ... Whoops. I forgot the butter for the baked potatoes.”
“I’ll grab it,” she responded far too quickly, before practically running into the house.Breathe, Nessa, damn it. Just breathe.
