13. Chapter 13 Texts & Possible Regrets
Dylan: November
“I’m married. I have kids… and this is wrong.” Her words have been stuck in my head for days. It's been over a week since that kiss, since she’s been at work, since I’ve heard her raspy, sweet voice.
I knew better. I should’ve stopped it when I had the chance.
Instead, I pushed. I leaned in when her eyes flicked to my lips.
I lingered when my hand touched hers. But some reckless part of me craves her.
Not just sexually. If this feeling was lust, I think I could handle it better. This is something else.
I stare at my phone like a fucking idiot. I should stop myself before I want more. But maybe it’s already too late.
Dylan: Hey. I know I should leave it alone. But I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. I don’t want to make things harder, I just need to know. Did it mean anything to you? If it didn’t, I’ll back off. But if it did… I’m not sure I can pretend like nothing happened.
Another two days pass when a text finally comes in.
Jenna: Good morning. Horny! Is there anything you want me to pick up at the grocery store tonight after work?
I blink at the screen. Then again. Well, that just made my day. She’s finally coming back to work. I shouldn’t reply. But nah. This is too good to pass up, even if it wasn’t meant for me.
Me: You left me so horny too! Grab two bottles of wine, whipped cream, eggplants, and jalapeno chips. And don’t forget the handcuffs, a blindfold… and a leash. ;)
Ten seconds later. A facepalm emoji. Then dots. Lots of dots.
Jenna: What? No! Wait, why eggplants?
Me: Seriously? That’s your concern? Is this your typical grocery list? And can I come next time?
Jenna: No! No! That message wasn’t for you. I meant ‘Good morning, honey’…. to my husband. Damn Talk-to-Text Siri is always horny.
I laugh so hard. I like Siri. And her husband? A lucky fucking guy.
Me: Sure. Blame Siri. But subconsciously, we both know… you want my eggplant.
Jenna: Yup. Totally. Followed by a divorce when my husband learns I kissed a guy who wants to leash me up and light my mouth on fire with spicy chips.
“Jesus,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. She just made me laugh, got me hard, and made me feel like an absolute asshole all in one breath.
Because I can’t have her. But I keep wanting her anyway.
Me: Fine, no leash. I like a woman who takes control. Seriously, come back to work. Are you okay?
The cafe smells like fresh coffee and temptation. “Two coffees, one sweet tea,” I tell the barista.
A few weeks ago, this wasn’t part of my routine. But now? I can’t start my day without stopping here. Without coming in early just to catch a glimpse of Jenna sipping tea, trying not to spill it down her shirt.
I scroll through my phone while I wait. Still no response. Not that I expected one. She’s married. This is wrong. But try telling that to my heart, or to my dick that can’t get her out of my system, no matter how hard I try.
The opening chorus of Usher’s You Got It Bad drifts through the speakers, like the universe is fucking with me.
You got it bad when you’re out with someone, but you keep on thinkin’ ‘bout somebody else…
Of course. Like I haven’t already had this album on repeat.
Not because I’m a fan, but because she loves Usher.
Because it makes me think of her. Because I’m trying to get inside her head and want to get to know her, instead of just getting in her pants.
That’s a first for me. I don’t fucking care about someone’s favorite song or getting to know women. I haven’t even had sex since Annabelle.
What if I need just one more kiss? One night with her—to forget about her, like I do with all the rest? Jesus. This shit is starting to mess me up.
I grip the counter, the lyrics clawing at my chest. What the hell am I doing? I’m not my father. I’m not a complete asshole who plays games with married women. And I don’t do feelings. But the more I fight it, the worse it gets.
Stop. Thinking. About. Her.
“One sweet tea for Dylan!” The barista breaks through my thoughts. I grab the drinks and head for the door, but the words keep looping in my mind. You got it bad.
When I walk into the office, I see her and my heart slams against my ribs. She’s back. Laughing at something Izzy said, with that mid-length blue skirt… teasing me. And those long legs I want to spread wide open.
Guilt gnaws at my chest. I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be looking at her like this. Shouldn’t be imagining all the ways I’d ruin her.
But fuck. She makes me hard.
“Jenna. Izzy.” I set the drinks down, trying to act normal when my brain is anything but. “Good morning, ladies.”
“Good morning, hot stuff,” Izzy teases. “I mean, Dylan. Are all your friends as stupidly good-looking as you?”
I cock my brow. “Probably not. But my best friend Luis is recently divorced, heartbroken, has great hair, and has that whole sexy Latin thing going on.”
Izzy laughs, but it’s Jenna’s voice that makes me freeze.
“Izzy would definitely make him less lonely,” she says, twirling lazily in her seat. She’s always moving, always restless. “But she’d break his heart all over again.”
I chuckle as my mind strays. All I can think about is tying her to that damn chair, making her sit still long enough to—Her phone rings, slicing through my dirty thoughts.
“I would not break his heart, maybe his penis, but not his heart, at least not right away,” Izzy quips.
These two are hilarious—and way too gorgeous for my sanity. I need to get back to work before my penis wakes up again.
“That’s exactly what Luis needs right now,” I joke, stepping back.
Izzy keeps talking, but my focus shifts entirely to Jenna as she answers her phone.
“Mom, I’m not doing it. I told you ten times. Please stop asking me. You go. I need to work. Not everyone can save trees and do yoga all day. Love you, bye.”
I tilt my head, curiosity piqued. “Not doing what?”
“She wants me to see a psychic and unjinx myself,” Jenna mutters, exasperated.
Izzy perks up instantly. “I think your mom might be onto something. Remember when I saw one for my twenty-first birthday? She said I’d marry a rich Italian, and we’d stay best friends.” She grins. “She was half right. Let’s do it together, you know, for fun. What do you think, Dylan?”
“I’m staying out of this,” I say, trying to hide my smile. “But I’d honestly pay to hear what a psychic would say to Jenna.”
“There’s nothing to say.” Jenna shrugs, grinning. “I love my mom. But she’s… a little nuts. I’m not going.”
She turns to leave, and my eyes land on the curve of her back. “I should get back to work,” I mutter to Izzy. But instead, I follow Jenna to the break room, getting sucked deeper into her world. I need to talk to her and know how she feels.
Jenna’s filling her water bottle at the counter as I walk inside. She turns around. “Hey.”
My pulse races as I step closer. “Why have you been avoiding me?”
She glances at me, then looks away. “I haven’t been avoiding you.” Her voice is quiet. “Just… putting some distance between us.”
“I get that. I’m good at distance.” I nod slowly, raking a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. For kissing you. For making things complicated. Can we go back to being friends?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Dylan… you have nothing to apologize for,” she mutters. “It’s my fault. My responsibility to stop things, not yours.”
Her words hit like a punch to my chest because I’m to blame. She never asked for any of this.
“And yes. We can try and stay friends,” she says with uncertainty. “We still have to work together until the renos are done.”
“Okay,” I reply, my voice tight. “Friends.”
I can do this. I can keep my hands to myself. Be her friend, even if I want to kiss her every damn time she walks into the room.