19. Chapter 19
Dane
I decide to forego the gym this morning in favor of staying home, so if Daria needs me, all she has to do is call my name. It’s unlikely she will, but still...makes me feel better to know I’m here should the worst happen.
After I bolted from the bathroom last night, she locked herself in her room.
I knocked and asked her if she needed anything, but all I received were muffled, one-word responses.
Maybe I shouldn’t have left her in the bathroom like I did, but I couldn’t stay as close as we were for another second without doing something we both would’ve regretted later.
I’ve never forgotten about a puking incident as quickly as I did while staring into Daria’s chocolate brown eyes.
For once, she allowed herself to be vulnerable with me.
And like a starved man in a desert, I ate up every single weary piece she handed me.
She was less like the strong independent woman I’ve come to know and more like a scared, insecure girl in need of help.
It tore at me, and I could do nothing less than try to help her feel better.
But that quickly blurred into an awakening of our initial attraction that I wasn’t at all prepared for.
So I left her alone. And probably ruined any chance of getting back into her good graces, even if I am nice .
I sigh and toss a handful of spinach into the blender, along with half a cup of frozen strawberries.
Once they’re doused in some almond milk, I push the button and let the blender do its thing.
I made some coffee and boiled a pot of water for tea in case my little patient wanted either.
I’m hoping this smoothie might tempt her to at least sip something nutrient dense this morning to stave off dehydration.
After pouring up two full glasses, I begin cleaning the blender’s pitcher.
Soft footsteps pad behind me. “Good morning,” I say without turning around.
I’m still not quite over our close encounter last night and figure she might need the distance as much as me after how things ended.
Heat spreads from my chest to my neck as I think of how beautiful she looked with nothing but a towel on.
“Good morning.” Daria’s throaty rasp tugs at my heart, forcing me to turn. Her long dark locks are disheveled, but her coloring looks better, even with the blue-tinted half-moons lingering under her eyes.
My attention falls to her clothes— my clothes —the ones I gave her last night, and my thoughts take a sudden delicious detour down a road filled with lazy mornings full of soft skin and dark, unruly hair spread out across my pillow.
I swallow and look away. “How do you feel?”
She lets out a husky chuckle and slides into one of the stools at the island. “Probably better than I look. And sound.” She winces and clutches her throat. “My throat is raw.”
“Sounds like it.” I hand her a glass full of the green strawberry smoothie. “This might help make it feel better. It’s cold.”
She sends me a shy smile and wraps her long fingers around the glass. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I lean back against the opposite kitchen counter as she quietly sips the smoothie.
“It’s good,” she finally says, swiping a thumb under her mouth. “But I think I just dribbled on myself.”
I grab her a napkin, and our fingers brush when I offer it to her. Our eyes lock and hold for the first time since she entered the room, and it's as if something electrically charged passes through us.
“Thanks.” She swallows. “Again.”
“You’re welcome. Again.” Instead of watching her drink the smoothie like a creep, I turn and finish cleaning the pitcher. I wrack my brain, trying to think of something to talk about, a topic that’s safe and won’t revisit the tension from last night.
“So, a fashion show, huh?”
She clears her throat. “Yeah. My boss told me about it and...I really think I’m going to do it.”
“That’s great,” I say, putting the blender back together. “I have no doubt you’d win the prize money. That skirt you wore to dinner was beautifully made.”
As I turn, I catch the pink bloom in Daria’s cheeks and realize my misstep. Crap . I mentioned something from last night. In an attempt to rectify my fumble, I blurt, “If you still need models, I’m happy to volunteer.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “Really?”
I shrug and cross my arms. “Yeah. I mean, what is there to it? You’ll just measure me and fit me in clothes, right?”
“Yeah, but you’d also have to wear those clothes on a runway in front of who knows how many people. It’s just a local event, so probably not like thousands, but you never know.”
“Seems easy enough.”
She takes another sip of her smoothie, eyeing me over the glass’s rim. “You sure you wouldn’t mind? Because I can ask your brother when he gets back from the honeymoon.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you could start working on your designs right now, though? I mean, when you feel better, of course.” It’s a weak argument, considering Parker and Jamie will be back in town in a few days. Still. It feels like the right thing to offer.
“Yeah, probably.” She sets down the glass and runs her fingers down its sides.
“Perfect.” I push away from the counter and step toward her.
“I have to go back to work later today, but I’ll only be gone for five days, then I have a week off.
I could help with whatever you need.” I have no idea how long it takes someone to make clothes, but she can at least get my measurements today.
“That should work.”
“And you can take my measurements today, so you can get started while I’m gone.” I don’t know why I sound so eager about this. I shouldn’t be. It’ll force her back into my space, and God knows when that happens, my body goes haywire.
“I think I can manage that,” she says with a small smile that almost immediately turns into a frown. “But first, I need a shower. I’m a disgusting mess.” She lowers her nose to her armpit and comes away with a disgusted grimace.
I back away, keeping my grin in check. “All right. I’ll be packing a bag in my bedroom. Just call me when you're ready for me.”
It takes Daria close to an hour to take a shower and get dressed. Not that I’m complaining. Especially when she waltzes out of her room looking like a goddess in jean short overalls that put her lean, tan legs on display. I force my eyes back to the book I was reading before she entered the room.
“I cannot tell you how much better I feel,” she says with a chuckle, prompting me to meet her eyes. “Are you ready to get started?”
“Yeah.” I slap the book closed and get to my feet. “Just, uh, tell me where you want me.” Sheesh, why does everything that comes out of my mouth now sound laced with implications? If Daria feels it too, she doesn’t show it.
Probably only me, then.
She ducks her head and reaches into her back pocket, procuring a long, pink measuring tape. “Here’s good. I’ll just need you to spread your arms out at your sides.”
I do as she says. “This good?”
“Mmhm.” She goes to wrap the measuring tape around my bicep, then stops. “Oh! I forgot my notepad. Hang on.” She disappears back into her room. It gives me just enough time to mentally prepare myself to have her touch me again.
Don’t let your mind wander when she’s close to you. Do not smell her hair. Do not let her soft skin distract you. Do not imagine the way she looked at you like you were the only thing holding her together last night.
Daria reappears with a smile. “Here we go.”
“Perfect.” I grin too. Probably a little too wide.
“Do you mind holding these?” She waves the notepad and pencil in the air.
“Sure.” I take them from her, careful not to let our hands touch. Once again, she lifts the measuring tape to my outstretched arm.
“All right, let’s see here.” Tugging her bottom lip into her teeth, she focuses on sliding the plastic tape over my arm. It’s a cool contrast from her warm hands. After tugging it snug around me, she hums.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing I’m sure you don’t already know, Mr. Bodybuilder.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not a bodybuilder.”
“Maybe not.” She meets my eyes with a smirk. “But your measurements might say otherwise.”
I can’t help but flex my arm in response. She laughs and shakes her head. “It’s a good thing you’re humble.”
“What? I am.”
She snorts. “No. You’re not.”
“Aw, come on. When have I used my muscles to my benefit?”
She hikes one dark eyebrow. “How about last night when you scooped me up as if I weighed nothing and carried me up here?”
My lips tug upward on instinct. “Seems like that was more for your benefit than mine.”
That blush I’m becoming addicted to flares across her cheeks as she fights back a smile. “Whatever. You’re such a showoff.”
I let her comment slide as she removes the tape from my arm and grabs the notepad to scribble down my measurements. “All right, let's do your chest and waist.”
Spreading my arms out again, I allow her to wrap me in an almost embrace as she encircles the measuring tape around my upper body.
The scent of jasmine that’s so uniquely her envelops me, daring me to take a deep inhale.
I almost give in when she tugs the tape closed with two fingers just over my heart.
“Okay, got it.” Letting the tape fall from my body, she slides the notebook out of my hand and jots down the numbers. “Now for your waist.”
Again, I’m encircled in her arms, but this time, she peeks up at me with an almost flirty smile. “I swear, if I posted your measurements online, I’d have a line of women out the door, begging to date you.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Please don’t. I’m starting to think I should’ve read your privacy policy before agreeing to this.”
She laughs. “I mean, I can draft one if you’re worried. But I’d have thought a guy like you who wants to settle down would want your pick of the local single women.”
It hits me that she doesn’t have a clue that I’ve not dated anyone since I asked for her number.
“I may want to settle down, but I haven’t been looking.
Not since...” I debate mentioning it. I probably shouldn’t.
But there’s a part of me that needs her to know the truth.
“Not since I gave you my number at that party.”
Her breath catches just enough for me to notice. Stepping away, she trains her narrowed eyes on mine. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” I insist. “I haven’t been on a date in...” I let my arms drop at my sides. “Since I don’t know when.”
The muscles in Daria’s jaw tighten. “Hm. Interesting.”
She ducks her head and writes my measurements down before tucking the notepad under her arm. “All right. Now for your neck.”
I raise my chin to give her better access, and gently, she wraps the tape around my neck. For a brief moment, there’s eye contact that I feel all the way to my core.
“Now for your sleeve length.” For that, she goes to my back and spreads the tape from the center of my back all the way down the length of my arm.
“I have to do your thighs now.” She clears her throat. “Can you...can you spread your legs?”
I do as she says and gaze up at the ceiling to distract myself. The cold plastic slides up under my gym shorts just enough to make me flinch slightly.
“Sorry,” she murmurs. “Should’ve warned you it would be cold.”
“It’s all right.” When my voice cracks, I clear my throat. “Just do your thing and don’t mind me.” Or my body’s involuntary reactions to your touch.
She lowers the tape to my calf, then pauses to write down my numbers again. “Okay.” She hops to her feet. “I need one more measurement, but I’m going to coach you on how to do it yourself.”
“All right.”
“It’s your hips.” She holds out the measuring tape. “This needs to wrap around your...” She motions with one finger to my lower torso. “Booty area.”
I bark a laugh as I accept the pink tape. “Gotcha.”
“Great.” She smiles. “I’m just going to...” Hooking a thumb over her shoulder, she backs away. “Get a cup of coffee while you...do...that.”
I can’t hold back my grin as I complete the task. Confident I got an accurate measurement, I write down the number and head to where she’s adding coconut sugar to her coffee mug. “Here ya go. Think I got it.”
Her eyes land on the notepad for a split second before she bites her lip. “Mmkay. Thanks.”
“Is that all you need?”
She takes a sip of her coffee before responding. “I’ll need a pair of your slacks to get the inseam but should be good after that. I’m hoping to have at least the shell of a shirt done by the time you get back. I can tweak things after we see how it fits you.”
“Sounds good.” Comfortable silence settles between us, and for the first time since she moved in, I don’t want to leave for work. Maybe it’s because she felt awful last night and needed my help, or because we’ve put our pettiness on pause, but I actually want to be around her.
And when she raises her gaze to mine and smiles sweetly, it’s hard not to wonder if she feels the same way.
“Are you going to be driving your puke-covered car to work?” she asks, scrunching up her cute nose.
“No, I’m not. I asked a friend to pick me up and drop me off at the airport. I’ve got another buddy coming over to pick my car up and take it to have it detailed.”
“Sorry. Again.” She takes another sip of coffee, almost like she’s trying to hide behind the rim of her mug.
“ Again , it’s all right.”
“You know, I could take you to the airport,” she says. “So your friend doesn’t have to come and get you.” Shock barrels through me, and my mouth falls open. “It’s the least I could do for you after last night. I just... really want to make it up to you.”
“Daria.” I say her name as gently as I can, hoping she really listens to what I say next. “There’s nothing you need to do to make it up to me. Any decent human being would’ve helped you after you got sick.”
She averts her gaze, scuffing her toe on the hardwood floor.
“That’s where you’re wrong. Only Jamie has ever cared for me like that.
Not my mom, not—” She pauses, sighs. “Anyway, I’m just really grateful.
And I’d like to drop you off at the airport to save your friend the trip. Unless you don’t want me to.”
“No, I-I’d like that. But I didn’t want to ask you since you weren’t feeling well.”
She runs a hand through her hair, tugging at the ends a bit. “I feel a lot better today. I’m not sure if it was food poisoning or something else, but it came and went fast.”
“All right, well. I’ll just get my stuff, then.” I back away, and another idea comes to me. “Want to grab a bite to eat on the way or is your stomach too queasy?”
She shrugs. “I might be able to handle something small.”
“Okay. Let me call my friend and we can head out.”
With a rare, full grin, she adds, “You’d better hurry. We all know how you can’t stand to be late.”