11. Dolly
11
DOLLY
My heart leaps, thumb stopping its doomscroll through social media as the quaint white house fills my screen. This one, much like the others I have saved, has a big, beautiful, covered porch, dormers, and planter boxes. The addition of an old-fashioned well out front—working or not—catches my eye, as do the black shutters used as accents. I swoon, staring at it for a long moment.
Add it to the folder…
Hux’s voice rings out in my head, his instructions the same telepathically as they would be if he were standing right here. He’s been uttering those five words for more than a decade, almost on autopilot, every time I see a new one that I’m instantly head over heels for.
Sighing, I click and save, thankful for the short distraction from the emotional ping-pong game my heart is taking part in. As if it were the little white ball, frantically bouncing between nervous and excited, my pulse unsure if it should speed up or slow down with each one of my breaths as I sit here and wait. At least my headache is gone.
Knock! Knock!
“Eeep!”
The rapping against the door makes me jump, my phone making a heavy thud as it hits the floor. Good job, Dolly.
“It’s fine, you got this,” I tell myself out loud, picking up my phone and giving myself one last once-over in the mirror. My floor-length, pink floral print dress is the perfect combination of happy and sexy—the last part thanks to the peek-a-boo sides held together with black ribbon—and I was head over heels for it the second I walked into the boutique and saw it on the mannequin. “It’s just Hux.”
I suck in another deep breath, reminding myself it’s just my best friend on the other side of that door. So what if we had the world’s weirdest conversation this morning? It doesn’t matter that I’ve spent all day—including a few hours trying on clothes to wear for him that I paid for with his credit card—thinking about how he offered to fuck me until I walked funny the next day. This is still the same Huxley Hayes I’ve been besties with since the third grade.
I think.
Just like I think I want to take him up on his offer.
Maybe.
I throw open the door and my heart stops. Standing on the other side is Hux, dressed in dark jeans and black button-down, the sleeves rolled up, showing off his tattooed forearms.
Fuck me…
“Hey, Beautiful,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking upward into a smirk.
My insides melt, my brain frying as it tries to compute him greeting me this way. As if I’m his date.
Oh, wait…
“Hi.”
“You look fabulous.”
Heat pricks at my cheeks. You’d think this was the first time he’d ever complimented me. Shit, why is this suddenly so weird? I need to stop this. This is Hux.
“You clean up pretty okay yourself.”
Hux chuckles. “Shall we?”
He holds out his elbow, same as he did the other night, all gentleman-like. I take it, following his lead. Including acting like this is normal.
Warm spring air welcomes us as we walk out onto the large veranda, tables scattered across it, with plenty of room in between them giving everyone plenty of privacy. A small string quartet plays over in the corner, a melody I partially recognize gently floating through the air, adding an extra layer of softness to the dimly lit ambiance.
“Do you mind being under the tree?” Hux whispers, nodding to the massive live oak off to the side as the hostess guides us to our table.
I shake my head, still taking it all in. The Spanish moss hanging from the tree branches, backlit by tiny lanterns strategically placed throughout, looks like something out of a storybook. My stomach flips, my insides twinkling right along with the lights.
“Hux…” I murmur, not sure I even finish saying his name. I’m too overcome with all of this. “It’s…it’s…”
“It’s what?” He stops short of the table, taking my hand, concern taking over his face. Squeezing my hand, he lets me know he’s here, and that I can tell him whatever I’m thinking.
Perfect…it’s perfect…
“Nothing.”
“Doll…”
I inhale deeply. How do I find the words to express that it’s everything? Everything that I fantasized about being treated to. What I’d been secretly hoping my ex would magically know I wanted. The stuff my daydreams have been made of.
And somehow, I don’t know how to act.
“Wonderful, it’s wonderful.”
Wonderful, but…weird.
We sit, settling into our table and placing our drink orders. I’m sticking with the mocktail menu tonight. I want to make sure I have a clear head for whatever is about to happen. That, and I want to avoid another hangover like the one I had this morning.
Still, I have so many questions I want to ask. If my heart is caught up in a ping-pong game, then my head has been doing its best Tasmanian Devil impression, spinning around and whirring up dust as I cycle through all the things Hux said. And if he meant it.
I need to ask him. I need to woman-up and find the ovaries to put it out there. He did. And if he was being honest, that he’s willing to…then…
“Why do you feel you’ve settled?”
“What?”
His question catches me off guard, not only cutting off my thoughts, but stopping them completely in their tracks. My mind goes blank, my pulse skittering as I watch him, watching me, that simple black button-down looking a lot better than it has any business looking.
Seriously, this is Hux. I need to remember that.
“This morning you said you were willing to settle for an okay-ish life with Jeff.” He bristles as he repeats my words. “Because you had already settled. But what makes you think that?”
Oh, that…
“Maybe settled isn’t the right way of putting it. Please don’t think that I hate my life or anything. But…” I trail off, trying to think of a way to put this where it doesn’t come off completely insulting.
I love what I do and where we live. And I know that Hux knows that. But sometimes it’s also a lot . Add on top of that, Hux and his family are Hickory Hills. I would never want him to think that any of my disillusionments are because of him.
“But,” I continue, “I took over Dolly’s without thinking after Grandma Dolly died. And while I love having my own business, sometimes I wonder if there’s more out there. If I could have done something else.”
“You still can.”
“And what?” I laugh. “Leave Hickory Hills with the Kountry Kitchen?”
I look pointedly at Hux, watching the hint of green pass through his coloring at the mention of one third of our town’s eating establishments. The Kountry Kitchen has never been known as gourmet eating—far from it, actually—but a run-in with the owner’s daughter post breakup with his buddy Jake left Hux sick for weeks in our twenties.
“Please don’t,” he chokes out. “But that doesn’t mean you have to run the greasy spoon either.”
I nod. A menu revamp has been on the to-do list for a while, but I’ve been putting it off, telling myself that it would be a post wedding project. Truth be told, there’s another reason I haven’t tackled it.
“I’m not sure how people would take to that. Dolly’s has been around for more than fifty years, and that menu hasn’t changed.”
“Then maybe it’s time.”
Hux reaches across the table, taking my hand and interlacing his fingers in mine. I relax into the touch, even as my senses come alive, the easy, natural move seeming like second nature. The soft, simple connection is too much and not enough all at once, the butterflies in my chest starting to flap their wings in time with my rushing pulse.
“Maybe.”
“You could always?—”
“Did you mean it?”
I blurt out my question, letting it rush out of me like water bursting through a dam. Hux is quiet for a moment, the silence as thick as molasses on a cold day, time slowing down as I wait for him to reply.
Straightening up, he lets go of my hand, the warm air feeling cold suddenly as it replaces him against my skin. Shit, he’s going to let me down. Tell me that he didn’t mean it. That it was just something that came out in the moment.
Okay, that’s fine. I can handle that. Hux is my best friend, and I know that I won’t ever lose him. Things might be awkward after such a declaration, but it’s nothing we can’t get over. I think.
Clearing his throat, he starts to answer, but is cut off by the waiter.
Fuck!
We maintain composure, listening to the specials and then placing our orders. I’m not sure how hungry I’m really going to be if this continues the way I think it’s going, but that’s fine.
“Did you mean it?” I ask again, as if he needed a reminder. My heart is in my throat, and I’m prepared for whatever the answer is. “About being all those things for me?”
“Yes.” His answer is short. Simple. Full of so much confidence that there is no way to question it. “If that’s what you want.”
If that’s what I want…
Wow. Just wow. So much for thinking he was going to let me down gently.
“I don’t know if you know this about me, Huxley Hayes, but despite what I might have led you to believe last night, I’m not a quick fuck kind of gal…”
Hux throws his head back, letting out a loud, deep guffaw. One that not only rattles the table, but reverberates deep inside me, pulling out my own laughter.
“I do know that about you, Dolly McLain,” he replies, leaning in and staring me down. “And I didn’t plan on treatin’ you as such.”
A shiver rips through me, straight up my spine then back down again, settling straight in my core.
“But you’re allergic to relationships.”
“I’m not allergic. I’ve just never felt the need to be in one. My needs were met.”
I squint at him, trying to figure out what that even means. My needs were met. Ugh, such a guy thing to say. Shaking my head, I let out a sigh, because I honestly don’t know how to respond to that.
“Look,” he adds. “I’m not saying this has to be a thing. Just that I’m happy to be the man in your life. Whatever form that takes.”
Whatever form that takes…
Smiling, I nod, reaching back out for him. He takes my hand, squeezing it. That same electricity crackles again, and I have no idea if Hux feels it or not, but there’s no denying that it’s weaving its way through me. Taking over and taking root.
“You are the man in my life.”
“Good.”
A moment later our food shows up, breaking the tension and taking our conversation back to the diner. Only this time, Hux focuses on the menu revamp project, peppering me with questions about what I want, and if I could do anything other than breakfast, what would it be. It’s fun to dream, laughing and joking with the person who knows me best, creating wild ideas about dishes we could serve.
The rest of the evening flies by, the string band in the background floating in and out of earshot, the din of conversation from the other diners so faint that it feels like we’re the only two out here. By the time we finish, it feels like this morning and my hangover were a whole different life ago.
“Ice cream would have been a good idea,” Hux says as we walk hand in hand along the beach after dinner.
A bright full moon illuminates the waves crashing along the shore, giving us plenty of light to see where we’re going, our footprints disappearing behind us quickly in the soft sand.
“You have room for ice cream?” I giggle. “I’m stuffed.”
“There’s always room for ice cream.”
Now that’s my Hux—always hungry.
Looking up ahead, I notice the bright glow of a bonfire, so I slow down, not wanting to interfere with someone’s party. Although party might not be the right word, since the music coming from their speaker isn’t the standard mix.
“Is that…” I lean in, straining to get a better listen.
“I don’t remember Van Morrison being quite so big band sounding,” Hux comments.
“That’s because it’s not. That’s Michael Bublé’s version of ‘Moondance.’”
I start to sway with the music, getting extra jazzy as the horns sound, knowing that I couldn’t look any less sexy if I tried. Hux’s eyes go dark though, and he steps into me, taking my hand and tugging me close to him.
“Dance with me.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Hux?”
“Can’t a guy want to dance with the woman in his life?”
I giggle, unable to hide how much I like being called that. “Two nights in a row? I don’t get it. You don’t like dancing.”
“No, Dolly,” he says, pulling me in closer and tightening his grip on me. “I just don’t like dancing with girls who aren’t you.”
Oh, holy…fuuuuuuck…
Hux flexes his hand against my back, then starts to move us in time with the beat. I let him lead, both out of the desire to know what it feels like and because I don’t think I could if I tried. I’m a puddle inside, wanting nothing more than to remain just like this.
So we do.
Song after song, Hux holds me close, moving along to whatever floats our way. He doesn’t let go, not once, only adjusts his stance based on how he wants to hold me. And I hold him back, my arms tethered around him, as if he’s the only thing keeping me grounded.
“I like this,” he comments, a rock ballad fading into the rhythm of the waves against the sand.
“Me too.”
This is easy, not forced. Nothing more than the two of us, simply existing in each other’s arms, the rest of the world fading away.
Leaning back, he swipes a stray piece of hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. Heat trails along my skin from his touch, a wave of self-consciousness taking over. I am nothing like the women Hux generally chooses. All those twig-like brunettes could not be any more opposite of me if they tried.
“You fit pretty perfectly.”
I look away, not wanting him to see my doubt. Because I want to believe it. I want to believe that he really does feel like I belong right here. But how can I? For one, my judgment is shit. Jeff proved that. For two, Hux doesn’t look at me like that. He never has.
“Hey,” he says, cupping my cheek and directing my gaze back to him. “Where’d you go?”
“You don’t have to lie.”
“I didn’t.” The arm still around my waist tightens, pulling my body flush with his. My breath hitches, the butterflies in my chest coming alive again. “Are you saying you disagree?”
“No…”
My response is breathy and uneven, as if his question had sucked all the oxygen out of the air. With Hux holding me like this, our bodies this close, his face tilted toward mine so that his breath tickles my skin, in some ways it feels like he has.
“Good.”
Running a thumb along my lips, Hux inhales sharply, leaning in even closer. I freeze, my heart galloping, screaming for the only thing I want more than anything else right now. Something that I’ve imagined a hundred times, and still can’t begin to fathom.
Then it happens.
Soft, strong lips brush against mine, tentatively at first. A gentle testing of the waters. But that only lasts a second. Just long enough for my heart to stop as Hux takes my face in both hands, all hesitation evaporating instantly.
Something within me snaps. I whimper, grabbing ahold of his shirt, yanking him closer, trying to deepen the kiss. The one that I can feel weaving its way through every fiber of my body. His sweet and spicy taste is overpowering, and somehow I can’t get enough. I need more. I need to know that this feeling is never going to go away.
Our tongues meet, sending a whole new set of sparks flying through the air. Hux’s hands move to my hair, and I know that we’re putting on a show. We’re that couple—the one that makes out in the middle of the beach and doesn’t give a damn who sees them.
And yeah, I don’t give a single damn. As long as Hux keeps kissing me like this.
Because holy fuck, can Hux kiss.
A long moment later, I ease back, coming up for air. My lips tender from the kiss, my skin tingling from Hux’s scruff, and my mind completely blank, it’s going to take a minute to recover. Maybe more than a minute.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed like that. Actually, that’s a lie. I’ve never been kissed like that . Whatever that was, was a first.
And I’d really like for there to be a second.
“How about I get you back to our room? Curl up and watch a movie?”
“I think that sounds perfect.”
“Me too.”