Page 23 of My Grumpy Sweetheart
Dakota was smiling now, and I was pretty sure he was fighting with laughter.
“Anyway. That was one uncomfortable conversation, and I never could get myself to actually try the purple dragon. It’s living a sad life in the back of the drawer of my nightstand.”
Dakota’s laugh was a deep rumbling in his chest, a rolling wave that barely made a sound but had a crushing impact at the same time. It didn’t wash over me; it hit me full force, knocking the breath out of my lungs.
And then there it was. A smile.
An honest to god smile that transformed his whole face, because he didn’t just smile with his lips, he smiled with everything he got.
“That was a good story,” he conceded, giving me a nod. Slowly, second by second, the smile dimmed until he was back to scowling, confirming my hypothesis. My axe murderer had a resting frownyface.
“It is. It’s also the truth. And the reason why I’m telling you is because my mom has pictures of the incident, and the first time you meet my parents, you’ll absolutely, without a doubt, be subjected to these pictures. And the question will be if you’ve already gotten to know my sparkly purple dragon cock on an intimate level. So really, I should probably start telling this story on the first date to get it out of the way.”
Maybe I should have told him that instead of my purple, sparkly dragon cock, I’d ordered a turquoise one as a replacement, but I couldn’t very well give away all of my secrets on our first date. Some things needed to stay a surprise.
Here’s to hoping he’d actually get to see it.
Turning on the oven, I started zesting a lemon while Dakota started rolling out the dough and preparing a pie pan.
I had to admit, making pie together was fun, but the best part about it had been our conversation. I liked talking to him, even though I did the majority of the talking. I liked him. Which was entirely too early to feel, but it was the truth. And a little frightening.
A short glance at my date told me he was completely focused on his task, so I pulled my phone out and typed a quick message to Parker, because — quite frankly — I didn’t know who else to tell this without having to give an endless amount of context.
Bailey: So… I told my axe murderer about my lingerie collection and about the sparkly, purple dragon cock.
Bailey: Which means I like him.
Bailey: Oh, and I told him I liked to be filled, but I think that might’ve been TMI.
Bailey: Or not. I mean, it’s important for him to know.
Staring at my phone, I wondered if Parker would answer immediately or not. He always managed to make me feel better about myself, but just getting this out, telling someone else, had helped.
Not enough to get all this buzzing energy out, but a little.
Maybe I should use a little of our spare time to do a bit of yoga, center myself and all that zen shit Evan was always talking about. I might not really believe in the spiritual stuff, but it seemed to work nonetheless.
I was just about to put my phone away when Parker’s response came in. A row of laughing emojis. Snorting, I put my phone away. At least he was entertained by me.
I looked at the bowl filled with apples and lemon zest and started adding sugar and the spices. Cinnamon, a pinch of nutmeg, even less ground cloves, but a little cardamon, too. The last one hadn’t been in the recipe our baking instructor had shared, but I knew for a fact that my mom always added it. Apparently, it balanced something out; I just didn’t know what.
We continued working side by side, then hand in hand to get our pie in the oven.
“And now we wait,” Dakota said with a sigh, resting his hip against the countertop.
I snorted out a laugh, but it almost sounded desperate. Waiting while my thoughts were buzzing like little hummingbirds… that was a recipe, too. But not for pie – for disaster.
CHAPTEREIGHT
DAKOTA
Ihated to admit it, but the pie baking had been fun.
Okay, spending time with Bailey had been fun. His story about that dildo he’d ordered? Hilarious. The outraged and put-out expression on the faces of the couple working next to us? Next level funny.
The baking itself had been okay. Nothing new since I’d gone through afuck you and your antiquated world view, mom and dadphase right after quitting my corporate job and moving out to the schticks. That had entailed doing stuff my parents had always told me were a woman’s job. Like cooking. Baking. Knitting. I’d even tried feminine clothing and make-up but had realized that really wasn’t my thing and doing it just to spite my parents who weren’t in my life wasn’t a healthy way to cope.
Taking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes, listening to the rustling of leaves above me. I was sitting on the same bench Bailey had been sitting on yesterday when I’d watched him from our living room window, thinking about the best ways to maybe end the date early.
