Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
florence
The nervous drum of my fingers echoes through the service station restroom. Bleach and mildew have me breathing through my mouth, and the fluorescent lights highlight the dark circles under my eyes.
Best worst night’s sleep ever.
Dex pulled in for some gas on the short drive home. I told him I was going to freshen up, so hopefully, he’s not questioning my absence.
Biting the bullet, I stab at the Call button.
With three older brothers, I spent the better part of my childhood wishing for a sister. Johanna and Quinn fit that mold perfectly, but the last thing they need is my mess turning up on their door. Also, bless Quinn’s heart of gold, but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.
The phone rings three times before a raspy voice answers. “Did you forget time zones exist again?”
Alessandra Argiros is blunt, smart, and the exact voice of reason this predicament requires. Aly has grown to be someone I turn to over the last few months, even if it’s through the phone or text.
“It’s an emergency,” I whisper-shout.
There’s a pregnant pause. “Go on.”
“You know Dex?” My sneakers stick to the linoleum floor as I pace back and forth.
“I’m familiar with the tattooed carpenter.”
“Well…we slept together.”
Aly isn’t one for dramatics; there’s no shocked gasp or girlish squeal. “Didn’t that happen months ago?”
“Again.”
“Ah. I see one-time only didn’t stick.” Rustling bedsheets sound through the phone. “Didn’t you explain to him you weren’t interested in anything casual?”
I fiddle with the faucet, switching between a stream of hot and cold water. “He changed his mind.”
“Well, that was bound to happen.”
“That’s it?”
She sniffs. “I’m going to hazard a guess and say he’s worried what Patrick will think, and you’re going to keep your relationship a secret in the meantime.”
“You’re scarily perceptive.”
“I know. But that’s not why you’re calling. You’re scared…”
“He’ll break my heart,” I finish, deflating with a sigh. “It’s nothing serious—or I don’t think it is. I’m a hopeless romantic, and the more time I spend with him, the more I fall for him. I respect his desire to keep things quiet for now, but how long do I wait? What do we even label this?”
“You ask him. Lay it out.” She makes it sound so easy.
“The man is a vault. He shares what he wants when he wants, and if he feels an ounce of pressure, he closes up. I’m not saying I’m entitled to know all his deepest, darkest secrets, but I don’t want to waste my time. The fact he’s my boss complicates it further.”
She snorts. “Been there.” Then, she gives it to me straight.
“Timeframes. You both need them. A partner who gives you the space while sticking close by is…” She trails off, voice uncharacteristically soft.
“Booth is that for me, despite his over-the-top personality. Don’t push him outside of his comfort zone—yet.
He needs to know you’re not going to wait around on the sidelines while he works through whatever it is.
Take him at face value and continue being your over-sharing, wonderful self.
Maybe that’ll encourage him to open up.”
“Have you ever considered running for president?”
“Never. Who would keep Booth in check?”
“This is true.”
We’re silent.
Catching my reflection in the mirror, I’m surprised to see the woman gazing back at me. She’s the same and not. She seems taller, shoulders less sloped, and above all else, there’s a lightness to her.
“Hey, Florence?” Aly says.
“Yeah?”
“Dex is a great guy, but don’t let him be the one to hang the moon. You do it together.”
Once we say goodbye, I’m left feeling equal parts reassured and jittery.
With one leg propped up against the bumper of his truck, Moore Lumber cap on backward, Dex smiles at me as I emerge from the restroom. Aly’s advice floats away. His fingers stroke lazy patterns on my thigh as he drives one handed, stealing glances whenever his attention isn’t on the road.
It’s only when we stand between our two cabins that her words come barreling toward me. I didn’t even know he had the list until he pulls it out of his pocket, pen at the ready.
“Check them off,” he instructs.
I do.
When item number three and four have wonky ticks next to them, reality hits me. Dex has already hung the moon. The stars. The universe.
It’s up to me to ensure they don’t come crashing down.
The second we unloaded the camping equipment from the truck, Dex’s work cell rang. A delivery of lumber scheduled for Monday is delayed because of a bad case of wood rot, putting the summer camp project two weeks behind schedule unless the team can source an alternative.
Dex drove up to the Canadian border that evening to see what he could do and, apart from a few texts, we’ve hardly spoken.
He doesn’t know how long he’ll be out of town, and the cell service is spotty at his motel.
It’s Sunday, so I’m off the clock, and without him here to keep me company, I’m restless.
I’ve organized my closet twice, talked myself out of cutting my bangs, read three novellas, and still, my brain won’t switch off. I’m bored.
It doesn’t help I’m alone, in the middle of nowhere, without the assurance of Dex next door. It’s creepy. That’s why my two favorite guys snuggle up in the corner of my room while I browse my Kindle library for something new.
“Fellas, what are we thinking? Paranormal or small town romance?”
Munch. Munch. Munch.
Probably chewing a sock.
“Vampire hanky-panky it is,” I cheerfully reply then narrow my eyes at the two goats. “You cannot tell your dad about this slumber party.”
To my horror, my phone lights up with an incoming video call. My eyes dart around the room, searching for a hidden camera. Why else would Dex be calling me?
What on Earth does he want to talk about? The weather. The stock market. The meaning of life. I ignore it, partly to get a rise out of him and partly because this is unchartered territory. We aren’t dating. Are we?
While I spiral, his call drops, and then my phone vibrates with a text.
Dex: I know you’re awake. Answer the phone, Florence.
Florence: Sorry, who is this?
Dex: The man who will spank your ass if you don’t behave.
Florence: Weird name.
The dots on my screen appear and disappear.
Dex: I want to hear your voice. See your face. Don’t be cruel.
Aww.
And like that, I’m calm.
I cut the goats a warning stare. “Zip it.”
Butt Head bleats and Vincent blinks at me innocently.
With a quick fluff of my hair and a pinch of my cheeks, I return the call.
When his handsome face fills my screen, my heart pitter patters at the sight of his warm smile. He’s unfairly good looking.
“There she is,” he says casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Here I am.” I slump into the mountain of pillows behind me and prop the phone up between my bent knees. “How’s it going? Get your hands on any wood?”
We both deadpan.
“I’ve got several trucks full of wood on their way to the site as we speak.”
My lips wobble. “You know how to handle your wood.”
He rolls his eyes before mirroring my position and relaxing onto the motel room mattress. “You okay by yourself? You could have stayed with your mom.”
“Who would look after the boys?” The goat’s ears perk up.
“They’d survive.” Leaning closer to the camera, his voice drops. “Can you do me a favor?”
I nod slowly, smiling coyly.
“Sleep in my bed. Wear my shirts. I want my sheets smelling like coconut when I return.” His chest rises rapidly, as if the thought of me in his space leaves him breathless. “Nothing but my shirt, though, Florence. Got it?”
My center grows slick, nipples pebbling. “Uh-huh.”
I need him. Urgently.
“And another thing…”
“What?” My question is throaty.
“Get those damn goats back in their pen.”
My jaw unhinges.
He winks. “Good night, Trouble.” Then, he ends the call.