Page 24 of Summer Ever After
Finally, he looks up and says something. Jane bends down, digging through his toolbox on the dock. She pulls out a tool and holds it in the air. Is she flexing her muscles like theWe Can Do Itlady? I think she is. But Dax shakes his head, and Jane drops the tool, digging through the box once again, holding up another tool.
My smile grows as I watch her until I find myself standing. I open the screen door and pop my head inside my grandma’s room. “Hey, Grandma, I’m going to go get Stan’s boat from Dax. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“I’ll just be here,” she calls from the other room.
I adjust my hat and make my way to the dock.
It’s time to see what Jane is up to.
Jane
I don’t know what the problem is. I nailed today’s outfit. I had to go home first and change, but I thought it would be worth it.
Frayed shorts, an oversized Metallica T-shirt, black Converse high tops, and red lipstick. I even threw in one of those dangly chains hanging off my belt loop to complete the look. Short of a leather miniskirt—which I don’t own—I’m a bad boy's dream come true.
But not even my killer outfit can get Dax Miller’s attention. He treats me more like a helper than an attractive woman he wants to date.
“Is this the tool you need?” This is my third attempt to fetch what he asked for.
I’m not an idiot. I know what a socket wrench is, but I’m pretending not to—testing out the whole playing-dumb-to-get-the-guy-to-show-you-how-smart-he-is micro-trope. I hate how stupid this makes me look, so at this point, if a socket wrench was actually in this toolbox, I’d pull it out and hand it to him. But there isn’t one. I’ve checked.
“No, that’s not it.” Dax straightens as if he plans to find the tool himself. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll find it.”
I’m sensing he’s annoyed with me, but it’s not my fault the tool is missing.
I drop the one I’m holding back into the box and watch as he climbs out of the boat.
“So about that tattoo.” My eyes drift over Dax’s arm muscle where his own tattoo is perfectly displayed for all to enjoy—thank you, tight wife-beater, for not having sleeves.Since Dax doesn’t say anything, I keep going. “Does it hurt? You know, getting one on your arm?”
I already showed him my own arm, where I’m pretending to be interested in getting a tattoo.
“It wasn’t that bad.” Dax shrugs before crouching down beside the toolbox.
“I thought I could get a heart on my bicep.”
A heart?
Why did I say that? No bad boy wants a girl with a heart tattoo.
“Actually, maybe a knife or a skull head would be better.”
Skull heads. Yes, that’sverybad boy. And sexy!
“Whatever you think,” Dax mutters as he keeps banging tools around.
What else do bad boys like besides skulls and tattoos?
“I’m thinking about getting a Harley,” I say, lifting my chin, “to go with my tattoo. I just love to feel the wind in my hair and let loose a little, you know?”
No response.
Maybe the problem is my name. Bad boys don’t fall for plain Jane’s. They like women named Roxy or Vanessa.
“Do you ride?” I ask.
His gaze flips up to me. “Not too often.”
I’m equal parts scared of and motivated by his stare. “Well, I can teach you how to ride if you don’t know how.”
