Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
HAYES
I drove by the place three times. I kept thinking I had to be on the wrong street. There was no way a young, beautiful, single woman lived here. When it became clear I was in the right place, I found a spot to park on the street.
I triple checked to make sure I locked the doors. Getting my car stolen was not on the agenda for the evening. I frowned up at the apartment building in front of me and then back down at the map on my phone. This was it. This was the address Dixie sent me.
Talk about a shady part of town.
The building stood five stories high, its beige facade streaked with grime and in desperate need of pressure-washing. The place felt woefully uninviting—no landscaping, no exterior charm, and definitely no decent lighting. The few outdoor bulbs flickered, casting eerie shadows across the cracked pavement.
I shoved my phone into my pocket and approached the intercom at the front door. The labels were faded labels, and I searched for her unit number. When I finally pressed the button, a sharp, crackling voice barked through the speaker before I could even say a word.
“Who is it?”
“Dixie?” I asked with confusion. Maybe she lived with her mom. Or grandmother. Or some elderly woman.
“Do I sound like Dixie?! For the love of God, the intercom’s busted. This thing only calls my unit.”
“Uh, sorry about that,” I muttered. “I’m looking for Dixie…” I didn’t know her last name. “Could you buzz me in?”
“I’ll be giving the HOA an earful tomorrow,” she grumbled before the buzzer sounded and the lock clicked open.
“Thanks,” I said to no one as the line went dead.
The scent of something—or several somethings—unidentifiable hit me as soon as I stepped inside. It was a full-on assault to my olfactory senses. A musty odor of old carpets and dust mingled with a pungent smell of mold and mildew and an underlying stink that I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
I tried not to gag. It was the acrid scent of urine, whether it was human or animal, I didn’t know. The interior of the building was dimly lit, with flickering fluorescent lights and peeling paint on the walls. Not the nicest spot to piss.
The floors were scuffed and dirty, and there were stains on the carpet that I avoided stepping on. The hallway was cluttered with old furniture and trash but the path to the elevator was clear. Whether it worked or had been inspected for safety in the last decade was in doubt.
I wasn’t even sure I wanted to press the button, but there it was, glowing faintly.
“Fuck it.” I had all my shots.
I pushed the button and stepped inside. I wasn’t Catholic, but I did the whole cross thing across my chest. I might be able to survive a fall from the second or third floor, but if this box made it to the fifth and then dropped, I wasn’t sure I wanted to survive that.
The fifth floor greeted me with another dim, narrow hallway that seemed to stretch forever. Dixie’s unit number was at the very end. I knocked and waited, hearing a cheerful, “Just a second!” from inside.
When the door swung open, her smile was so bright it momentarily erased the bleakness of the hallway. She stood there in a cute dress that hugged her curves, her hair slightly mussed, her eyes shining. She had a way of looking like she’d just walked out of a dream. My gaze dipped briefly, appreciating every inch of her, including the soft curve of her lower stomach, a detail she didn’t try to hide.
“Hey,” she said, her voice warm. “Come on in. I just need a second to find my shoes.”
Her place was small—probably no more than eight-hundred square feet—but it felt like her. The walls were painted a soft yellow, and every piece of furniture looked like it had a story. Nothing matched, but somehow, it all worked. The air smelled like vanilla and clean laundry, with the faint hum of the dishwasher running in the background. On the kitchen counter sat a plate of cookies covered in saran wrap.
“Those look good,” I commented, nodding toward the plate.
She laughed lightly. “They’re for dinner at my parents’ place tomorrow. My way of appeasing them.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Appease them?”
She sighed as she rummaged through the closet. “You know, for being the disappointing daughter.” She glanced back at me with a small, self-deprecating smile. “Frankie’s the star. I’m just the one who shows up with treats.”
I frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”
She shrugged, slipping on a pair of black heels. “You don’t know my family.”
I watched her, taking in every detail. The soft swell of her hips, the way her hair fell just past her shoulders. My body responded immediately, desire pooling low in my gut.
“Ready?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.
She looked up, catching my heated gaze. A slow smile spread across her face, one that told me exactly what she was thinking. “Depends,” she said, stepping closer. “What are we doing?”
I closed the distance between us, my hands finding her waist. “I can think of a few things,” I murmured, dipping my head to trail kisses along her neck.
She let out a soft gasp, her fingers gripping my shoulders. “Hayes, we have reservations.”
“We can be a little late,” I said against her skin. My hands slid down her sides and around to cup her ass.
She moaned before pushing me away. “Later. You promised me dinner.”
“Yes, I did,” I sighed.
Breathing in her scent, I reluctantly stepped back and watched her grab her purse and check herself in the mirror. The energy between us was palpable, dry tinder just waiting for a spark. But dinner first. Dessert after.
We left her apartment, locking the door behind us. As we walked down the dingy hallway toward the elevator, Dixie slipped her arm through mine, leaning into me. “Thanks for not bailing when you saw the building,” she said with a wry smile.
Laughing softly, I leaned over to kiss her temple. “You think I’d let a grimy building scare me away from you?”
Dixie squeezed my arm gently. “It’s all temporary, you know. Just need to sort a few things out.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep, I’m going to win the lottery.”
I laughed. “I see.”
As we headed to my car, I held the door open for her like my mother raised me to do, earning a smile of approval. Once she was settled in, I climbed in on the driver’s side and started the engine.
“So,” I began as we pulled onto the road. “I have an evening planned. Hope that’s okay.”
She glanced over, curiosity in her eyes. “Sounds good. But just so you know, if it were up to me, we’d be getting milkshakes and playing mini golf.”
I laughed, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. “Mini golf? I haven’t done that since I was a kid.”
“Your loss,” she said with a playful smirk. “It’s super fun. But you’d be way out of your element. And I’d hate to embarrass you in front of all the little kids and their parents.”
Her teasing lit something in me. I made a split-second decision. My original plan—a fancy lobster dinner followed by a Broadway show—was scrapped. Instead, I took a detour, heading for a neon-lit amusement arcade I’d passed a few times but never paid much attention to.
“What are we doing?” she asked as I pulled into the lot.
“Proving you wrong,” I said, grinning as I parked.
“I feel like this is a setup,” she said.
“How so?”
“Because I’m wearing heels I can barely walk in,” she said.
I winked. “I guess I’ve got an advantage. But if you’re as good as you say you are, heels shouldn’t matter, right? Consider it my handicap.”
She frowned. “Fine, but if I trip or something, you’re carrying me the rest of the night.”
I laughed, nodding agreement. “Deal.”
I could feel the energy from the arcade even before we entered. The sound of games, laughter, and music spilled out each time the door opened. Dixie’s face lit up.
Inside, the vibrant chaos of the arcade surrounded us. Kids darted between games, tokens clinked, and electronic beeps punctuated the air. We headed straight for the mini-golf course at the back. It was glow in the dark, each hole a whimsical set of obstacles—windmills, looping snakes, and miniature castles.
I handed her a putter. “Ready to show me how it’s done?”
Dixie grinned, taking the club with confidence. “Watch and learn.” She grabbed a scorecard and pencil, shooting me a mischievous look. “Prepare to lose, Bancroft.”
I laughed. “We’ll see about that.”
We began at the first hole, a tricky setup involving a steep hill and a clown’s gaping mouth waiting at the top. Dixie stepped up, positioned herself with an exaggerated focus, and swung. The ball sailed up, teetering on the edge before dropping right into the mouth.
“Beginner’s luck,” I teased as she did a little victory dance.
“Skill,” she corrected with a wink. “All skill.”
It was my turn, and despite a decent effort, my ball veered off course at the last second.
Dixie clapped her hands in mock consolation. “Oh, so close!”
As we moved from one fanciful hole to the next—through pirate ships and dragon tails—our scores wavered between abysmal and brilliant. Between shots, I managed to snag a few kisses and, when no one was looking, the occasional grope.
She crushed me on every hole, her laughter echoing every time I missed an easy shot. By the time we finished, she was boasting about her victory to anyone within earshot. I couldn’t stop smiling as she bragged about kicking my ass while wearing heels.
“All right, champ,” I said, hands up in mock surrender. “You’re officially better at mini golf.”
“And don’t you forget it,” she replied, her eyes sparkling.
We grabbed hot dogs from the arcade’s snack bar, which were shockingly delicious. I could never admit it to Dane, though. He would ban me from his restaurants.
We played a few of the arcade games after, the kind that spit out tickets. Her competitive streak came out again as she dominated at skee-ball and air hockey. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much.
“I’ve never been to a place like this,” I admitted as we stood at the prize counter, cashing in our tickets for cheap rubber finger puppets. Mine was a penguin and hers was a spiky green guy with his arms out. When she wagged her finger, the arms looked like they were flailing around.
“What? You’ve never been to an arcade?” she asked, genuinely shocked.
“Nope. My brothers and I weren’t allowed to do this kind of thing.”
Her expression softened. “That’s a shame. My friends and I used to come to places like this every weekend. It was our thing.”
It felt like I was getting a glimpse into her life, which was good. She knew a little about me. I wanted to know more about her.
“I’m glad you brought me here tonight,” I said sincerely. It felt refreshing to step out of the typical date night script of dinners and theater.
She smiled, her eyes lighting up again. “Technically, you brought us here. I just mentioned mini golf. But I’m glad too. Just maybe next time you want to be spontaneous, make sure I’m not in heels.”
“Deal.” I laughed. As we walked back to the car, I couldn’t help but think about how different this evening had turned out compared to what I had planned. No fancy meals or glamorous shows—just pure fun.
As I drove, I stole glances at her. She wiggled her finger puppet, making it look like he was running around in a panic. The grin on her face told me she was fully enamored with the thing, even though it was a cheap little trinket.
Dixie was so different from anyone I’d ever known. She cared about having a good time and living in the moment. It didn’t take expensive dinners and diamonds to make her smile, and that made her even more beautiful.
I wasn’t ready for the night to end. I needed more.