Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
dexter
APRIL
Today is my birthday.
Thirty-five.
As usual, I work, even if it’s a weekend. Every year, Patrick turns up at the job site or the workshop, dragging me to Shirley’s and claiming it’s depressing to celebrate alone. This year, however, he’s invited me for dinner with him, Jo, and Lottie. Apparently, they have news to share.
I ignored the shocked faces of my crew when I was the first one to leave today. Dramatic fucks.
Spring is here. Crisp air greets me as I climb out of my truck, tangy salt and sweet maple blowing in from the coast and national park. I take one last exhale before walking into the small convenience store on Robin Road.
Not wanting to turn up empty-handed, I browse the aisles, debating between a bouquet or box of chocolates, when a noise tinkles in my right ear.
My spine snaps straight.
A laugh.
A very familiar laugh.
It’s been several weeks since I heard it last, but it still carries the same effect. A straight shot of dopamine to the bloodstream with tracings of lust. So much for cold turkey.
I’m caught between two options:
- Leave immediately
- Go in search of the bright smile pairing with the laugh
Like an addict, I choose the latter.
She’s easy to find. Silver-blonde hair sitting below her jaw—has she had it cut? Yellow Chucks, ripped jeans, an old band tee tied at the front, revealing a little sliver of skin. Flashbacks of that night bombard me, but I’m quick to shove them away.
Bent at the waist, she taps a finger to her lips, brow furrowed in deep concentration. She mumbles to herself, but with the whirr of the refrigerators behind me and the ding of the cash register, it’s difficult to make out.
So, I step closer, pretending to inspect a jar of pasta sauce, listening intently, thankful I haven’t removed my hearing aid yet.
For a second, I think she’s on the phone until she addresses herself.
“One sweet treat. Choose wisely, Florence.” The fingers on her other hand bounce between a Twix and a Snickers bar.
After a long minute of indecision, she picks up the Twix. Switches it for the Snickers. Swaps again.
My snort is automatic.
And loud.
She whips around, eyes wide when she spies me standing a few feet away.
“Oh.” She shoves the chocolate bars behind her, rocking on the balls of her feet. “It’s you.”
Her reception is jarred, which isn’t surprising.
The last time we saw each other, she fell asleep on my shoulder out by the bay.
Ass numb, fingers number, I didn’t move for an hour.
She jolted awake, bleary-eyed and embarrassed.
I fumbled with the words to reassure her, but before I could open my mouth, she darted away, disappearing up the incline of Robin Road.
It was by complete chance I stumbled across her, sitting glum and defeated on the bench. The smartest thing to do would’ve been to walk away and give her space, but I simply couldn’t. My conscience repelled the idea, and my legs carried me over before I knew what was happening.
Fucking magnetic.
Today, she’s happier. Well, until she saw me.
“It’s me,” I announce awkwardly, voice catching in my throat.
The little smirk she gives me is better than nothing. “Stocking up on groceries?”
“Hot date.” I raise my full hands.
Her flicker of happiness dissolves when she spots the chocolates and flowers. I realize how it looks and sounds. I shouldn’t care about her reaction to my dating life. It’s never been a delicate topic before.
I step forward. “It was a joke. The date is with your brother. And Jo. Lottie, obviously. Can’t decide which to buy.”
Her shoulders loosen, and I certainly shouldn’t enjoy that. “I’d go with the chocolates. Jo might not appreciate the smell of lilies right now. Too potent.”
I tilt my head in question. There’s something she isn’t telling me.
She laughs. “Trust me.”
“If you say so.” I quirk a brow at the stance. Her hands remain hidden behind her back. “Are you going to buy those, or do I need to call security?”
A nervous giggle escapes her. She waves the chocolate bars between us. “Busted.”
“Why don’t you get them both?” I shrug. “No harm in treating yourself.”
Her cheeks blaze crimson, and I immediately want to suck the words back. I’ve basically admitted to spying on her like a creep. So much for this encounter being an improvement from the last.
She lowers her gaze to her hands. “I’m trying to be more responsible with my money. It’s silly, I guess, it’s only a couple of dollars, but…”
“Not silly,” I rush out.
Her eyes dart back up, looking at me through her thick lashes wishfully. She swallows. “Which would you choose?”
The air settles again, removed of all hesitancy. It would be in the middle of the local store, with any nosy local around to witness this strange yet familiar interaction. “I’m not a lover of nuts. Go with the Twix.”
The smile she gifts me is a sucker punch to the chest. “Okay.”
We walk to the cash register together, and she checks-out first then waits for me. Thankfully, she’s too distracted by the row of magazines to notice my items.
As I’m tapping my card on the machine, a soft gasp sounds to my right. Florence holds today’s newspaper, gaze darting from the black-and-white print to me.
“It’s your birthday!” she practically shrieks.
The store clerk and I wince.
Florence claps a hand over her mouth.
Suddenly, she’s tugging me through the door and outside.
“Dexter! It’s your birthday!” she announces again, her expression horrified.
Passersby pause their steps at her outburst before continuing toward the bay. Tourist season is around the corner, and the streets are slowly getting busier.
“I’m aware.” I chuckle. “It’s not a big deal. Never celebrated them much anyway.”
She ignores me. “I can’t believe I forgot.”
Something pokes me in the stomach. I glance down to find a shiny wrapper jabbing me.
I shove her hand away. “No. That’s yours.”
She shakes her head. Stubborn thing.
“Florence. I’m not accepting it.”
As menacing as a mouse, she steps forward and shoves the chocolate bar into the back pocket of my jeans. Then, she pauses, her chin inches from resting on my chest. I’m invaded by her tropical scent.
Not good. Retreat.
“Did you rob the store?” she asks quietly.
Gently, I grip her shoulders and put some much needed distance between us. Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve the Twix she assaulted me with—and the Snickers I bought for her.
Her brow wrinkles. “You…you bought it for me?”
Discomfort at her promising tone makes my skin prickle. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, considering the plan was to drop it in her tote bag when she wasn’t looking.
I scratch my chin. “You still stuck to your budget, so this doesn’t count.”
The early evening sun glitters in her eyes.
“But what about you? I didn’t get you a present? I totally forgot.” She winces. “I feel awful.”
Heart as beautiful as her.
My jaw cracks, realizing the admission, even if it was internalized.
“Nah, don’t.” I press the chocolate bars into her hand. “Please.”
My arms don’t know where to go when she wraps herself around me like a koala, hugging tight and pressing her face into my chest. I barely make out her mumbled, “Happy Birthday.” Willpower weak, I return her embrace, holding my breath the entire time.
I try to ignore her glazed eyes and flushed cheeks when we pull apart.
“Well, have a good birthday, lumberjack. Thanks for my sweet treat,” she says bashfully, retreating slowly. “See you around.”
Once her back is turned, I turn, refusing to watch her walk away.
It’s not that I regret Florence. No, it’s that I regret not preempting the strange sensation brewing in my chest every time we run into each other.
I climb into my truck, ready to head to Pat and Jo’s, when something jostles in the pocket of my Carhartt. It crinkles when I dip my hand inside.
The Twix.