Chapter 10 Last Fling before the Ring #2
Feeling feisty, I walk over and stand directly beside her so my shoulder brushes hers. She shivers but doesn’t acknowledge
my existence, so I grab a chip and dip it into the bowl of guacamole directly in front of her. I lean over the counter to
make an obnoxious crunch right in her face.
“This is good.” I grab another. “Don’t you think this is good, Dakota?”
Her hooded eyes narrow as she sways in her heels. “Did you have any luck finding an air mattress today?”
“No,” I snap and grab another chip. “Wyatt took us fishing, so we didn’t go into town for me to do any shopping.”
“Well, I looked when I was in town and didn’t see anything, so we’re screwed.”
“We?” I mumble around another mouthful. “I’m the only one suffering on that bed of nails.”
“I’ll take the sofa bed tonight,” she offers casually as she sips her margarita.
“Come again?” I ask, my brows distinctly furrowed.
She shrugs. “We can take turns.”
“I thought you didn’t want to roll around in my musk.”
“I don’t.” She nibbles delicately on a chip. “I’ll swap the bedding out.”
I shake my head. “You must be drunk if you’re offering to do something nice for me.”
“I am a nice person, Calder,” she snaps defensively, her blue eyes stunning against her sun-kissed cheeks. “Outside of you...
I am a nice person. Sometimes.”
“She has black-cat energy,” Trista says and hiccups loudly.
“What is black-cat energy?” Cozy asks curiously.
Trista smiles as she replies, “Black cats don’t seek attention, but somehow, they still always get it. They’re really independent
and know their worth. I have animal labels for all of you.”
“What am I?” Cozy asks, her jaw dropped in rapt fascination.
Trista giggles. “You’re a pug. Loveable, chill, cute, and cuddly but marches to the beat of her own drum.”
“Do me!” Everly chimes in excitedly.
“You’re a terrier mix. Endless energy and always up in everyone’s business. Wyatt is a German shepherd, Calder is a rottweiler,
Luke is a golden retriever, and Max is a Doberman.”
“Oh my God, these are scarily accurate,” Cozy says, her eyes scanning the room as she takes it all in.
“Addison, I need a bit more time to get to know you, but I’m toying with the idea of a border collie after our chat on the beach today. Big herding dogs... hard workers and hyperfocused on their task.”
“Why am I the only nondog label?” Dakota asks with a puzzled brow.
Trista giggles. “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.”
“Don’t sweat it, Dakota.” A shit-eating grin spreads across my face as I lean in close to her. “I love cats.”
She shoves me away. “Are you ready for bed?”
The entire group gasps and hoots and hollers at that very pointed question.
“Do you want me to be ready for bed?” I waggle my brows suggestively, leaning even closer to her to bathe her in my musk that
she loves so much.
She rolls her eyes and waves off the group. “Forget it, I’ll just have Carlos walk me by the cage of sky rats.”
The birds. How could I forget? She can’t walk by the birds at night by herself. Some black cat she is.
“I’m at your service, Ace.” I stand to salute the group my goodnight and can’t help but notice the curious looks I’m getting
from Trista, Cozy, and Everly. Especially Everly.
As we make our way down the cobblestone path toward our palapa, I realize Dakota is a tad more drunk than I thought because
she nearly trips at least three times before I have to offer her my arm.
“Will you just take my arm before you break your ankle?”
Dakota’s brows lift. “Calder Fletcher being chivalrous. Hell hath frozen over.”
“You would know since you live there.”
She rolls her eyes but takes my arm as we make our way up the steps. Her skin is cool against mine, and I see her staring
intently at my inked arm wrapped around hers.
Her long lashes blink up at me as she scowls. “You know... I used to think you were hot, before I hated you.”
The grin that I make is embarrassing, so I quickly deflect. “I still think you’re hot, even though I hate you.”
“You think I’m hot?” she asks with a deadass serious face, as we make our way past the birdcage. Last night, she was a wreck walking by them. Tonight, I think my compliment has helped her totally forget them.
I roll my eyes as we stop in front of the palapa door. “You know you’re hot.”
“I used to be hot.” Her face falls as she tugs at the top of her dress.
“Used to be?” I hit her with a disbelieving look, certain she’s fishing for compliments.
“Yeah... I’ve changed.” She sighs and turns to open the door, stumbling into our room that’s illuminated by the lamp she
left on beside her bed. “I’m not the hot little thing I used to be. It’s fine. I know I’m not a dog. But I’m not what I once
was.”
She begins to kick off her heels like she didn’t just say the most fucked-up thing on the planet.
“Are you high?” I snap, irritation crawling up my skin.
“No, I’m midsize.”
“Mid-what?”
“Midsize.” She points to her midsection. “I have a little more here than I used to. And I don’t even have the excuse of having
babies. I just...” she shrugs “...gained weight. Hormones, age, whatever. It is what it is. Randal said I went from
an eight to a six.” She points her thumbs down and buzzes her lips.
I close my eyes and lick my lips, taking three deep breaths before I respond. “I’m going to need you to never say his name
in my presence again.”
“Why?”
“Cuz I hate him.” My teeth crack as I clench them to stop myself from saying more.
“Why do you hate him? You barely even knew him. If anyone should hate him, it’s me.”
I hit her with a glare. “You should hate him. You should want him dead for multiple reasons, but he should definitely be six
feet under for thinking he could ever put a number on you.”
“Like you’re one to talk,” she scoffs and starts taking off her earrings and setting them on the nightstand by the lamp. “You don’t care about anything.”
“It’s not about caring,” I say, feeling strangely out of breath as I stare at her lush frame illuminated in a halo of light
that makes every inch of her look alluring. “It’s about not letting yourself be numbered by anyone when you’re fucking infinite.”
Dakota stops what she’s doing and stares back at me, lips parted, breasts heaving under her tight dress. She looks like she’s
not buying what I’m saying, so I walk over and make direct eye contact, so she knows I’m not fucking with her.
“From the moment I met you, I could see that. You had the world by the fucking balls... and you did whatever you wanted.
Only a guy with zero fucking common sense would somehow miss the fact that you are limitless.”
She blinks up at me, her long lashes hooding her eyes in a way that makes her look really sexy. Like how she’d look when I’m
buried deep inside her. But my dirty thoughts are thwarted when she finally replies, “He’s the reason I went to the sex club.”
I inhale sharply at that swift change of subject.
“What do you mean?” I ask, stepping closer to her. “He made you go? I thought you said that was your first time. Haven’t you
guys been apart for a while?”
The idea of her still being involved with Randal makes me want to punch something. Watching her with him the past seven years
hasn’t been easy. Not because I’ve been pining for her or anything. Just because he’s the fucking worst.
There are two types of people who never leave Boulder.
There are people like my brother or my dad who make a name and a business for themselves.
They contribute to society in a mature and adult way.
Then there are people like Randal. Randal is a man-bun, lame-ass fucking calf-tattoo hipster who thinks he’s big shit because he became the manager of Pearl Street Pub for a hot second.
How a guy like him landed a girl like Dakota is baffling, and I don’t even like Dakota, but I respect her.
I respect her hustle and her drive, and I know she’s a good friend to Cozy.
And I respect the hell out of what she’s done with her life. .. aside from that douchebag.
Sure, I might be a fuckup like Randal. I can see that most of my life has been handed to me: my job, my social life, my mountain
view. Hell, even my mother gave birth to my best friends.
But at least I don’t have the audacity to try to tie down a girl like Dakota Schaefer.
“Are you still with your ex?” I ask, stepping closer to her as she starts doing the heavy blinking thing a person does before
they fall asleep.
“No... he just... he...” She sighs and presses her hands to my chest for some space. Her fingers knead into my pecs
through the T-shirt. “Good lord, you’re buff.”
“Dakota, finish what you were saying.”
She turns away from me and makes her way over to the sofa bed. “I need to go to bed, Killa Cal.”
“But wait. Did he force you to go to that sex club?” I ask as she flops face-first onto the sofa bed and the sound of creaking
metal echoes through the room. “Was he there that night?”
I hate how tight my chest feels over the thought of them at that club together. Why do I give a fuck? Seriously. I wait for
her to reply with bated breath and frown when I notice she’s completely lifeless on the bed. I press my knee down beside her
and move hair off over to see that she’s passed out. Just like that.
With a heavy sigh I check her pulse and feel relief when I confirm she’s not dead. Just has a magical ability of falling asleep
within two seconds of speaking complete sentences.
I stare at her ass for far longer than is appropriate before I head over to her bed and pull the covers back. She can sleep
for now, but that’s definitely not where this story ends with us.