Dakota
Holy fuck.
I don’t know what was scarier, hoping and praying Lena didn’t die in this hot tub from a panic attack, or hoping and praying my little lieutenant didn’t make his way through that little convenient opening in the front of my boxers to make contact with her bare pussy.
On the built-in bench next to me, she shivered.
“You’re freezing, aren’t you?”
She nodded.
“I’ll go grab us some towels. Wait here.”
Doing my best to make sure the tent I was pitching was out of sight, I climbed out of the hot tub and scurried inside.
I’m blaming the entire reaction of the southern hemisphere on grief induced insanity.
Grabbing two towels from the linen closet in the hallway, I dripped my way back outside.
“Look alive, Lena Loo. Here’s your towel!” I sat it on the edge of the hot tub before turning around.
Please do not slip and fall getting out. Please do not slip and fall getting out.
Feeling unbelievably thankful for the absence of a thud, I dried myself off.
“Are you covered?”
“Yes, wrapped up. Where did you put your sweatpants?” Her teeth chattered as snow began to fall around us.
“They’re on the couch. Go get warm.”
I followed her into the house, grateful for the blast of heat that smacked me in the face as I crossed the threshold.
The sound of the bathroom door shutting calmed my frayed nerves as I rifled through my bag for something to put on.
“Did I take the only thing you had to wear?”
Fuck, she is quiet as a church mouse.
“No, I have more, I’m just trying to find it. Are you warmed up?” I glanced over my shoulder.
She was standing there, her thin body swimming in my clothes. Her face had been scrubbed free of all her wedding makeup and her messy pinned hair tumbled around her elbows in haphazard curls.
She is beautiful. Jace really played his fuckin’ self.
She nodded.
“Good.”
After finally finding another pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, I hauled ass to the bathroom to change.
Fuck, boxers. I forgot boxers.
“Commando, it is,” I spoke softly to myself.
“Did you say something?” she called out from the other side of the door.
Not as soft spoken as I thought, apparently.
I opened the door and stepped out, shaking my head.
“I was just thinkin’ out loud,” I clarified. “Are you hungry? I’m not sure what we have here but Dad usually keeps it pretty well stocked and up to date.”
She shook her head.
“You need to eat, Loo,” I scolded gently. “I’m going to make you something and I really hope you’ll try a few bites, if for no other reason than to shut me up.”
Curling up on the couch, she pulled a blanket over herself, trying and failing to hide the smile on her face.
I rummaged around the kitchen, looking for anything I could turn into something. As luck would have it, there was a few pounds of frozen hamburger meat in the deep freezer with a label in my dad’s messy handwriting from only three weeks ago and a few cans of tomato sauce in the cabinets. If I could find some pasta, we would be firing on all cylinders. After finally finding everything that I needed, I fired up the gas stove.
Nothing says happy failed wedding day like piss poor spaghetti with the other scorned party of the groom’s hidden affair.