24. Dalton
TWENTY-FOUR
DALTON
“I’LL GIVE YOU MY PROTEIN STYLE.” —THAT’S WHAT HE SAID.
Just like that, she’d managed to crack open something in me without even trying, and she didn’t seem to have any idea that she made me feel…I didn’t exactly know what it was I felt.
I studied her as if there would be a test. Like I’d need to answer questions on how her button nose wrinkled in confusion or how she squinted her chocolate eyes like what she was looking at might not be real, or maybe I’d be asked to describe the exact way the thin line of her mouth blossomed into a smile wide enough the corners of her mouth had hurt.
She whipped her head around, her hair flying wildly behind her, “Is this really yours?” The excitement in her voice mended hurts I hadn’t realized I had.
I nodded. “Yeah, Betty’s mine. ’67 Ford Bronco.” The words came out more gruff than intended, my throat thick with emotion at seeing her reaction.
Emma had hated my Bronco.
She thought it rode too rough and complained it didn’t scream “I’m wealthy” when she was in it. That was exactly why I liked it. That and the fact that Betty was the first thing I’d ever bought for myself. Worked coaching youth hockey and private lessons for two whole summers so I could buy her.
I didn’t know why I’d given in when Emma demanded I start parking it at my mom’s. Which was where it’d been until today, when I finally brought her back home with me after our weekly meal. As much as I told myself I’d done it because I wanted Betty back, a part of me wanted to show Ari—I just hadn’t realized that opportunity would present itself so soon.
My chest warmed when Ari walked over, running her hands over the paint with reverence.
“So, how is it this thing’s so nice if it’s older than I am?” she asked.
“She didn’t look like this when I bought her. Every penny I made working went into fixing her up. Rebuilt the engine, fixed a million and one things that were broken, but it was a labor of love.” I smiled, reminiscing on my time under the hood. “My mom worked two jobs and put herself through school. I didn’t want her to feel like she had to get me a car, too, and with hockey, I had a lot of places I needed to be, and I didn’t want to burden her schedule with driving me everywhere. Enter Betty.”
Ari’s brows furrowed. “Where was your dad?”
There was a pang in my chest, the same one I got every time I spoke about it. “Um, he wasn’t around until later.” I flashed her a smile, attempting to keep my tone light.
He was her employer, after all, and eventually, she’d meet him. I didn’t want her to get the wrong impression about my dad. Vincent was a good guy…he just had a hard exterior shell.
Ari studied me for a beat before nodding, like she somehow knew the subject was delicate and chose not to dig deeper for my sake. “Why don’t you drive this beauty every day? It’s seriously gorgeous.”
I should have known that question was coming, but I’d forgotten what it was like to have someone attempt to get to know you.
She didn’t see my shrug, too busy making her way around the SUV. “Eh. The other one gets better gas mileage,” I said lightly, digging out the single key hanging from the diamond-shaped keychain that read “Betty.” My mom had given it to me when I got the car.
It wasn’t a total lie, but it was definitely not the full truth. Telling her why I’d felt compelled to keep it parked, like some relic of my teenage dreams, was more than I was ready to share. What would she say if I told her I didn’t drive the Bronco because my father hated it? That I drove the Audi, hoping he’d take note of how I listened to him and it would make us closer?
That I hoped it would help us come to have an actual father-son relationship…
Fuck. It was even more pathetic when I added that the entire time I’d rebuilt the Bronco, I’d been thinking about what it might be like to do it with my dad.
“I think we take her all the time now,” she said, straightening her shoulders, chin held high like she was ready for a fight. “You’ve got enough money to cover gas. Hell, I’ll help pay for gas.” She hung onto the car like she was prepared to latch on and refused to move until I agreed. Her voice softened. “I just think it’s a shame not to enjoy something you put so much of yourself into. Seems like she deserves better…like you deserve better.”
My chest tightened at the sight of her pressed up against something that meant so much to me. Tanned legs, wild hair, and a smile I never wanted to see dim. And that final whispered comment about what I deserve hit me right in the heart.
“Yeah, Sunshine. We can take the Bronco.”
The squeal she let out was music to my ears.
I’d agree to almost anything she asked of me, and she had no idea.
“Who orders protein-style with no animal fries?” she asked, hot pink toes wiggling up on the dash.
I’d nearly crashed when she’d kicked off her shoes, unfolding her golden legs to prop her feet up. When on earth did I start thinking ankles were sexy?
When you had a vision of hers slung over your shoulders…
“Dalton?”
“Huh?” I asked, coming back to earth from the fantasy land my mind kept kicking me into.
Her melodic laugh filled the car, carefree and warm, cutting through the sound of the wind rushing through the windows she insisted we lower. “I asked who orders protein-style and no fries, but then you stared at my feet like you’ve got some kind of fetish.”
Swallowing, I plastered on a smile, hoping to hide how close to the truth she’d come. I didn’t have a thing for all feet, but apparently I had a thing for hers.
I had a thing for all of her.
“Some of us,” I began, giving her a sidelong look, “actually have to watch our figures because we skate around on thin blades and whack a small disc on the ice while other dudes try to beat us up with sticks.”
She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leaned back into the seat, a small smile on her lips. “Poor baby. Must be tough being a big, strong hockey player.”
“Ha ha, hilarious.” I nudged her shoulder with mine, the bright lights from the In-N-Out sign casting a glow over her beautiful face. “Maybe we should trade places, then, huh?” I added, smirking. “Let’s see how long you’d last on the ice, getting slammed into the boards.”
She shot me a look, her eyes glinting. “You know, that’s the hottest part of a hockey game,” she said, taking a big bite of her burger.
A bit of sauce caught on her cheek, and my body moved before my mind could stop it, bringing my thumb up to wipe it away.
“Is it now?” I murmured, voice low. “You like the rough play?”
“Guess you’ll have to see how I hold up in the rink someday.” Ari’s voice was breathy, her gaze pure fire, and I didn’t know if we were still talking about hockey or something more.
I held the digit a fraction of an inch from her mouth, pulse pounding in my chest. I was fully addicted to the challenge and mischief dancing in her brown eyes. My breath caught in my lungs, and I waited on pins and needles for what she’d do next.
Fucking hell.
Those sinful lips of hers wrapped around my thumb, licking it clean in one slow, deliberate movement without breaking eye contact. Then—because she truly did want to kill me—she moaned around my thumb, the sound imprinting onto my psyche. How pathetic that my obituary would have to list the cause of death as cardiac arrest from having her suck on my thumb.
The spark between us was instant—electric.
Blood pounded in my ears, at least the bit of it that hadn’t made its way south. My cock was rock hard behind my zipper. She pulled back, leaving me tingling from the warmth of her lips and mental images of me shoving something else between them.
“Delicious.”
It was downright erotic. Her gaze was unflinching, daring me to respond, bringing to life my competitive nature.
“Sunshine, I can give you all sorts of things to lick clean if that’s what you want. I was also taught it’s rude not to reciprocate.” I wrapped my hand around hers, covering everything but her pointer finger. A tiny moan slipped from her lips as I used her finger to gather up some of the sauce, guiding the digit to my mouth and wrapping my tongue around it. Flavor burst in my mouth, but it wasn’t what I wished I could be tasting .
Her pupils were so blown that only a thin ring of chocolate was still visible.
“Thanks for sharing,” I said, biting the tip of her finger before kissing it.
It was like she was in a trance, unable to respond beyond a nod, and damn if that didn’t make me feel all sorts of ways. Now that I’d gotten my hands on her, there was no way I could stop. Her silky strands slipped through my fingers, my hand finding the back of her head, holding her in place.
“You touch me a lot. You know that?” Her teeth pressed into her bottom lip.
“Not in all the ways I want, Sunshine.”
I’d wanted to kiss her every day since the night I met her, to seal our mouths together and consume everything she gave me. To bite down on the plump flesh of her bottom lip like she was and taste the berry gloss on my tongue. Hell, I wanted to taste, bite, and lick every inch of her flesh. See what heady noises she’d make as I made my way down her body.
Thoroughly marking her as mine.
Need washed over me. I’d been unsure if she’d ever let me kiss her again, but right now felt like a good time to see. The center console dug into my stomach as I leaned across, holding her face in my hands.
She gulped, her eyes wide, not in surprise but in anticipation, our breaths mingling. I paused, giving her enough time to pull away if this wasn’t what she wanted. Her shallow panting breaths led me to believe her mind was in the same fucking gutter as mine, but I needed to be sure.
Needed her to be sure .
“Ariella, can I ki—” my words were cut off by a blinding flash that shattered the moment.
We blinked, disoriented.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked, looking out the car window, keeping her shielded with my body. A small crowd of photographers gathered outside, cameras pressed against the glass, popping bright flashes. Voices rose above the clicking shutters, each question more insistent than the last.
“Dalton! Over here! Is this the woman from the bar?” one reporter shouted, his face illuminated by flashes bouncing off the windows.
More questions poured out, overlapping, each one louder than the last. “Who is she? Another fling, or the real deal?”
“What about Emma? Is this the reason you broke it off?” another called, his camera pressed against the glass like a vulture. The tint probably blocked any good shots.
The energy in the car shifted instantly. Ari stiffened beneath me, her fingers curling in her lap, jaw tense. “It’s probably frowned upon to hit them with the car door, huh?”
“Assault is generally frowned upon, and there may be too much photo evidence to prove it was an accident, but if you decide to do it, I’ll back you in court.” I tried to lighten the mood, but the statement sounded rough and pissed off. Which was accurate to how I was feeling about being cock-blocked by paparazzi.
My stomach turned with regret at the all too real reminder that I was the real reason she was in this mess to begin with, because my name brought attention like this .
I’d dragged her into a lifestyle she hadn’t asked for when I’d approached her in that bar.
“I’m sorry you have to deal with this shit because of me. Let’s get out of here,” I murmured, throwing the car into reverse and weaving out of the parking lot and away from the flashing lights.
“Hey, unless you’re the one who called to tip them off, this isn’t your fault.” She reached over and intertwined our fingers. I glanced into the rearview mirror, watching the crowd shrink smaller the farther away we got. Logically, I knew she was right, but that didn’t lessen the weight of the rock sitting on my chest.
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be in this if I?—”
“Let’s get one thing straight, Dalton. I make the decisions for my life, so stop speaking about this as if I’m trailing behind you helplessly.”
“There was no way for you to know who I was that night,” I argued. “That being around me would equal that kind of attention.”
She sucked her teeth, pulling her hand away to throw it in the air. “ Ay . I was at the private soft opening of a sports bar with athletes and agents on the guest list. You’re six fucking three. Let’s not insult my intelligence and think I didn’t have an inkling that you were an athlete with your Greek god-like body.” I smirked at her angry rant. Half of this stuff she never would have voiced if she weren’t so fired up. “Sure, I thought you were a bull rider given your outfit and, you know, being in Texas, but still, I knew what I was potentially getting myself into when I said yes.”
I nodded my head, the weight lightening .
“And another thing,” she shifted in her seat to face me and I had to force myself to keep my eyes on the road. “I might have been desperate when I told HR we were a couple, but I still had choices. I always have choices, and I chose you.”
Logically, I knew her words were meant to be platonic. They weren’t intended to crack open the shield I’d placed around my heart since Emma—yet that was exactly what they did.
The truth hit like a high-stick to the heart.
I wanted Ari.
More than that, I wanted to convince her to choose me for more than this sham of a relationship. And I had no idea what to do about any of it.