Page 9 of My Grumpy Sweetheart
What?
Had he packed more than a couple of spare boxers?
Okay, maybe I was being dramatic. The bag wasn’t actuallythatsmall. It was pretty regular sized. It just seemed small compared to my two suitcases.
Opening the driver’s door, I hopped out of the car and went over to where he was locking his door.
“Hi,” I said with a smile. Damn, compared to me, my axe murderer was huge. A proper mountain man. “I’m Bailey.”
The guy turned around and frowned at me. “Like the liqueur?”
I giggled. “Like my great grandmother on my mother’s side, but I do like the liqueur.”
He grunted but didn’t say a thing. Nothing like, “Hi, I’m Henry, and it’s so nice to meet you.” Though, I didn’t think his name was Henry. He didn’t look like one.
“Soo… what’s your name?” I asked when it became painfully obvious that he didn’t plan on striking up a conversation.
His sigh confused me a little. He almost sounded annoyed. I just couldn’t figure out why. “You don’t even know my name?”
What a weird question.
“Nope,” I said, popping the ‘p’. “It wasn’t on your profile, and you didn’t tell me when we set everything up. And I might’ve been too excited to ask.”
“Hmpf.”
He walked past me toward our car, his bicep brushing against my shoulder, almost knocking me down the stairs. He was strong — which I liked — but I’d have preferred to find that out in a different way… like him lifting me up and pressing me against a wall to kiss the ever loving shit out of me.
But I wouldn’t give up now.
It was still relatively early… somewhere in the world. Maybe he worked at night and this was the time of day he usually slept?
I skipped down the stairs and easily caught up to him, seeing as he’d only made it to the back of the car where he’d opened the trunk and was staring at what was inside in either fascination or horror. I’d go with fascination.
“Soo… your name?” I asked again.
“I thought this was a weekend-getaway?” my axe murderer said.
“It is.”
“Okay… so am I seeing double?”
“Did you drink?”
He pinned me with a look that gave me serious murderer vibes. Like… maybe he really wanted to chop me into bite sized pieces — at least in that moment. “No, I did not drink. I’m driving.”
I blinked. “I’ve been driving, but if you want to take over, that’s fine with me.” I gave him an extra wide smile. Honestly, I didn’t like driving all that much; riding shotgun was so much more fun, especially since we’d travel the countryside, so I expected to see quite a bit of beautiful scenery. “Anyway… what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Axe Murderer in my head for the next two days.”
“You’ve been… what?” He cocked his head, brows furrowed to a frown that seemed to permanently mar his handsome face. Some people had a resting bitchface, he seemed to have a resting frownyface. I probably shouldn’t find it as adorable as I did. “Wait, don’t answer that,” he said hurriedly before I got the chance to answer. “I really don’t want to know. I’m Dakota.”
“Nice to finally meet you in person, Dakota.”
“Yeah… we’ll see about that.”
He smashed the trunk shut and stalked to the driver’s side without even sparing me another look. I guess that was my cue to get in the car. I wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t just drive off without me if I wasn’t fast enough.
So, I hopped in the car and made myself comfortable in the passenger seat by taking my shoes off.
“What are you doing? And what the fuck is all this stuff?” Dakota — because I knew my axe murderer’s name now — asked, nodding toward an array of snacks and sweets that might look a little like a kid on the loose in a grocery store.
