Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
dexter
“Ha! Knotting! And K is on a double letter tile!” Florence hoots, arms shooting up like she just scored a touchdown.
Jaw slack, I throw a hand at the board. “What the fuck is ‘knotting’?”
The tip of her tongue traces her cupid’s bow. “Google it.”
Sixty seconds and an internet search later, my eyeballs and brain are corrupted.
“And you read that stuff?” I whisper in shock.
Fanning herself, she nods. “Omegaverse. Hoo, boy.”
There’s a moment of silence before our laughter bounces off the walls. She tips sideways, clutching her belly, and I knock over the empty bottle of whiskey, sending it rolling under the sofa. Once we collect ourselves, our glassy eyes meet.
Palms raised in defeat, I shake my head. “I give up. You win, Little Sadler.”
She grins triumphantly. “You tried. It’s a doggy dog world out there.”
I squint at her.
“What?” she asks.
“Doggy dog world?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” She rolls her eyes, as if I’m the one who’s confused.
“It’s dog-eat-dog-world.” I bite my tongue from laughing.
She gasps. “It is not.” Unlocking her phone, she stabs at the screen then howls with laughter. “Well, if that’s not a sign to call it a night.” She tidies the board game, her movements clumsy. “I’m going to call a cab.”
“Florence,” I start and rise to my knees. “You’re not getting a cab. I have two spare bedrooms.”
Warning signs flash in my head, their lights bright red. This woman has had my mind straying multiple times tonight—Patrick’s younger sister. I’m divided between being a gentleman and respecting my best friend.
She chews her bottom lip, nails tapping on the hardwood floor. “Is this a pity invite?”
I recoil. “What?”
Florence has a tendency to throw in a curveball when you least expect it. She’s full of quirky, wonderful ideas she can’t contain. It’s refreshing, but this one is so out of left field.
“Bleugh, sorry.” She waves a hand around her head. “An inside thought escaped.”
My joints scream at me in this position. I move to sit on the sofa, and she follows, embarrassment tinging her cheeks.
“Listen.” My tone is firm but necessary. “I was quite happy calling it quits the second it hit midnight, but a game of filthy Scrabble and greasy pizza turns out to be exactly what I needed. Nothing about you being here is out of pity.”
Our knees brush, and my hand is an inch from her shoulder as it hangs over the back of the sofa. Florence stares at me, doubt still marring her features.
“Where’s this coming from?” I ask softly.
She considers this for a second, and then the gates open, her honesty crashing around us.
“I have no clue what I’m doing. Today, tomorrow, forever.
The list of things I wanted to accomplish before the new year is endless, and I haven’t checked one thing off.
No one will hire me thanks to my lack of experience, but I can’t get experience without a job.
My mom and brothers keep pushing me to work at the restaurant, but that’s taking the easy route.
” She takes a deep breath. “I’ve only been home a month, and honestly, it’s as if I never left.
It’s hard not to feel like a disappointment.
” Her voice cracks, the sad noise making my chest ache.
Her lips purse, as if she doesn’t want to say anymore. From the tension in her shoulders, her confession was vibrating to escape.
“On top of all that, I’ve neglected to see a doctor about the ADHD diagnosis I received almost two years ago. Two years, Dex. It’s no wonder my brain is at war with itself.” She catches my perplexed expression and pauses. “Shit, I’m talking too fast, aren’t I?”
I’m thrown, mentally running through the best response.
“You’re not,” I assure her. “I, um, didn’t know you had ADHD.”
“No one does. Only my mom. I love my brothers, but they…worry, and sometimes, it feels like they’re tired of my antics. If I suddenly go, ‘Hey, take it easy on me, I have ADHD’, they’ll see it as an excuse. I have to come to terms with it myself first.”
All the Sadler siblings are close, but I get what Florence is saying. Master of avoidance here.
“Give yourself some grace. You don’t have to have it all worked out now.”
“I’m…” Moisture brims the corners of her eyes, and she sucks in a breath, fingers twisting in her lap. “I’m so tired of being the messy little sister.”
Without thinking, my hand covers hers, swallowing her nervous movements.
“You’re the farthest thing from messy, Florence.
Few people can say they’ve traveled across nine countries and done the things you have.
You light up the room with your smiles and laughter.
Fuck, you always have, but especially tonight.
My evening was dull and flat before you walked in.
It might not seem like it, but you’ll land on your feet.
Don’t let that spark dim because of other people’s opinions, okay? ”
She blinks, mouth slightly ajar. “Okay,” she whispers.
“What’s on your list?”
This perks her up a little. “Find my own place.”
I nod. “And?”
There’s a moment of hesitation. “It’s stupid. I make these lists, and half the time, they’re never completed.”
“Sounds smart. Organized.” My thumb circles the back of her hand.
At some point, Florence’s delicate fingers began tracing the anchor tattooed on the knuckle of my index finger.
The space between us is basically non-existent now, and her bare knee brushes my thigh.
“You should see the state of my filing cabinets.”
She grimaces. “Filing cabinets? Like…paper?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“This is the twenty-first century, Dexter. We have this thing called the Cloud now.”
A high-pitched squeal fills the air as I dig my fingers into her side. After her body stops shaking with laughter, my touch lingers, one hand wrapped around hers, the other resting on the curve of her hip.
I don’t dare move.
Her emerald orbs pin me in place.
“What else?”
She swallows, and I find myself entranced by the way her throat bobs, the tendons pulling taut.
“My passion.” Her voice is hushed, but I make out every word. “I want to find my passion, something I’m good at. Something that’ll make my family proud.”
Telling her they are proud seems counterproductive. Determination ripples from her in waves, matching the thrum of her pulse.
“You’ll find it, Trouble.” The nickname slips free, plucked from the air.
It’s fitting, because everything about this moment is troublesome.
The corner of her mouth hitches. “Dex?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you…” She draws her bottom lip between her teeth then shakes her head.
As if possessed, the hand on her hip drifts up to her mouth, grazing her chin to pull her lip free. It’s full, pink, and glistening. “What, Florence?” I rasp.
She’s a forbidden fruit.
Never once on my radar until tonight.
Not in that way, at least.
Sure, she’s always been pretty and vibrant and larger than life.
It’s impossible to forget her, but she’s always been Pat’s sister—Little Sadler—only now, she’s all grown up.
My eyes trail to her chest, and the urge to slide my tongue along her delicate collarbone is primal.
I’d nip at her earlobe and kiss along her jaw to those plush lips.
I admire her, hoping the erection pushing against my jeans isn’t obvious, and when my eyes land on hers, I find her watching me back with as much intensity, if not more.
Her gaze is expectant, my desire mirrored.
With every sip of amber liquid and tick of the clock, the obstacle of who her brother is shrank, leaving me utterly clueless on how to navigate this unexpected evening.
Would she taste like whiskey if I allowed myself one bite? Smoky, spicy, and with a hint of vanilla. Or would it be tropical, matching the intoxicating scent of her?
We’re in a fog, dancing in the fumes of the alcohol. That’s the only explanation for the heady sensation causing my heart to stutter when her tongue peeks out, brushing the tip of my thumb. Her pulse thrums against my index finger, rhythmic and steady, like the string of a guitar.
“Can you distract me some more?” Her breathy voice, paired with the feel of her soft skin under my rough hands, has all my wires crossing, all sense fleeing.
My hand falls, resting between her neck and shoulder.
I’m well versed in wanting a distraction from the trials of life.
To need a temporary fix that clears the onslaught of thoughts stuck on repeat.
We gave each other that tonight. An evening between two friends.
With her cloaked in shadows, backlit by the smoldering fire, and wrapped in flannel, the distraction she seeks now is different. I know that. She knows that. And god-fucking-dammit, I’ve never been one to act coy, yet here I am, ignoring the facts.
This is Pat’s sister.
We’re tipsy.
I don’t do relationships.
Emotions drive our actions.
She’s gorgeous in the fire’s glow and in my shirt.
“Is that a good idea?” My thumb settles in the divot at the base of her throat.
Her eyes dance across my face, chest rising and falling. “One time. One more distraction.” Her fingers wrap around my wrist, squeezing slightly. “We won’t know if it’s a good idea until we try.”
She’s bold. Bold and beautiful and chaos—an explosive trio.
Has she always been this way?
I’m bewitched, mouth unable to form words.
That moment of hesitancy snaps something in her.
A flash of panic washes over Florence’s face. She scrambles out of my hold and off the sofa.
Fuck.
“Florence…” I say carefully.
She holds out her palms, stopping me as I slowly stand. “No. No. My god, just stay there.” Her eyes dart toward the darkened hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Please forget this happened. Scrub it from your brain. I’m sorry.”
I watch, dumbstruck, as she sprints away. The slamming of a door follows, and then silence.
The fire roars, yet I’m cold to the bone.