Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Ambrosia
Wren Monroe: I was pregnant and needed a baby daddy.
Jensen Monroe: You make it sound so soap-opera-like.
Laughter.
Wren Monroe: It’s the truth!
Jensen Monroe: Yes, but you left out the part where I was totally, wholeheartedly, and maddeningly in love with you.
That I didn’t care you were my best friend’s sister.
All I cared about was getting you to notice me.
I played like my life depended on it whenever I knew you were watching.
When I was a kid, a teenager, and then as an adult, I was playing for you and only you.
I really don’t like the smug look that Ella Mae gave me when she handed over Dawson’s and my Caramel Apple Celly Lattes.
It was too intrusive.
Too knowing.
Almost excited, which seems silly.
Why would anyone be excited for this? By going out with Dawson, I am taking the most sought-after guy on campus off the market.
I am publicly making a claim on him. Won’t women hate me?
Ella didn’t. She just grinned, her brows waggling when I took my latte from Dawson, who had grabbed them first. Almost like he was testing the cups to make sure they weren’t too hot before handing mine to me.
Then, like there was no one else in the room, he took my hand in his other one and hasn’t let go.
Not one damn person looked at us.
And it felt…real.
So real that every few seconds, I found myself looking over at him in his dark blue Camaro to make sure he is really driving me to a pumpkin patch.
He is, his dimples shining as he sips on his coffee and drives us onto the interstate.
The trip is quicker than I remember, but the conversation is flowing easily.
He asks what I did this morning—breakfast, a light workout, and editing the episode of Vaughn and Brie Johansson that I usually would have done before recording my next, but I was working with Jayden and Baylor’s schedule.
“What was your favorite part of their show?”
I smile dreamily. “Did you know that Vaughn sponsored a whole housing development just for special-needs adults?”
Dawson smiles proudly, and I feel it deep in my gut. “Yeah. I volunteer there a lot.”
Of course he does.
Because the universe loves to make me swoon for this man.
Damn it.
“Have you been out there?” When I shake my head, he nods. “We’ll actually pass it on the way to the pumpkin patch. I’ll point it out.”
He does, and I want to go back to explore, but that seems a little insensitive. It isn’t a place to explore; it’s someone’s home. I already asked Vaughn for the information to volunteer, and he sent it right away. Now I wonder if maybe Dawson would volunteer with me.
Ugh, this guy.
I didn’t wear panties to bed last night because I knew I would be getting myself off to the memory of how close his mouth was to mine.
How his large body crowded me as he gripped the counter, which made his arms look all flexed and sexy.
How good he smelled as he grinned down at me with those dimples winking at me.
Three times. I got myself off three times just from thinking about him.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s doing the same.
Soon, my thoughts wander to stripping him out of his dark wash jeans and brown knitted sweater.
When he showed up to pick me up, he was freshly showered and he had shaved.
His strong jaw looks so smooth, I want to run not only my fingers along it but my tongue too.
His lips are plump and curved up in his easy smile as he parks in the first spot he sees at Gentry Farms.
“This okay?” I nod as we get out, our drinks in hand. He comes around the car to take my hand, and I smile up at him. “I like to give the families the front parking spaces. It’s what my dad always does.”
Remember how I told you about the wall I’d built around myself, and how he just keeps taking it down, brick by brick? Well, with that statement, he knocks down eight of them.
How does someone with such a shitty reputation with women turn out to be such a great guy?
I sigh as we head into fall fun. The air is crisp, a bit chilly, but the sun is warm on our faces.
I’m thankful for the choice of brown tights to keep my legs warm, but I wish I hadn’t worn the long-sleeved shirt under my ruffled green overall dress.
I worry I’ll start sweating, but hopefully I’ll be okay.
“Have you been here?”
Dawson’s question pulls me from my internal thoughts. “Yeah, all the time. We used to come every year when I was younger.”
He nods. “Me too. Maybe we were here at the same time.”
I grin. I am starting to dislike the word maybe. “Maybe,” I draw out. “But you wouldn’t have seen me.”
He raises a brow. “No?”
“Nope. I hid the whole time.”
He scoffs. “Why?”
“It was a game with Tía. I would hide, and she’d have to find me. If she didn’t, I got a huge bag of caramel popcorn.”
He laughs. “So you didn’t enjoy yourself?”
“I did…hiding,” I say with a laugh. “But then my dad would find me, and we’d enjoy our day.” I can still hear my dad’s “Got you!” before he’d pull me out of wherever I was hiding.
“Show me a spot?”
I can’t help but beam at him as I drag him toward the barn, where they have a child-size maze. I pull him through, thankful hardly any kids are here yet, and then climb into a little alcove made of hay. He pokes his head into my hiding spot and gives me a look. “I don’t know that I’ll fit.”
I wave him off. “It’s open here. You’ll fit.
” I point up to where there is nothing above me, only the sounds of families and friends making memories.
The smells of caramel and popcorn waft through the air, making my mouth water.
But then it’s watering for a whole different reason when Dawson maneuvers his big body close to mine.
He takes the backs of my calves and drapes my legs over his so that we both fit.
Together, we lean on the hay, and I’m burning up from the inside out.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says in a low voice.
“Like what?” I ask innocently.
“Like you want to leave this little hidey-hole looking like you just had a roll in the hay.”
I grin. “Maybe I do.”
He chuckles. “That is not a family-friendly activity.”
“You sure?”
“Uh, yeah. The things I want to do are not.”
I snort. “But in doing those activities, families are made.”
Now we’re both snorting with laughter. He leans in, and I hold my breath, thinking he’s finally gonna kiss me on the mouth, but instead, he kisses my cheek. “Behave.”
“I am.”
“Hardly,” he says, patting my leg. “This is a good spot. I found Harrison in here a few times.”
“That’s your youngest cousin?”
“Yeah. Well, no. Hadley is the baby of the family, but Harrison is my dude. When we come, I run with him.”
“How old is he?”
“I don’t know. Kid age?” Dawson laughs, and I love how freely he does it. “I feel like when kids are between the ages of eight and thirteen, you never know how old they are. I said Charlotte was nine for like six years.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Did all of you come here together, at the same time?”
He nods, pride in his hazel eyes. “Yeah, every year. Even when everyone was still in the NHL, our moms planned a day for all of us to do a pumpkin patch together. Sometimes it was in a different city—my favorite is this farm outside of the city in New Jersey. I can’t remember the name, but we had so much fun. ”
“That’s so cool.”
“Yeah. We went to a lot in Florida, but it didn’t feel very fall when we’d get our pumpkin then head to the beach.”
“Ha! That doesn’t really work.” We laugh. “But you all were always together.”
“Always,” he confirms, and I don’t know if he knows, but his thumb is moving along my knee. “We have a day planned here the morning of the caramel apples, but I didn’t want to share you with them.”
My lips curve up. “So we’ll come again?”
He licks his lips, nodding. “Yeah.”
We share another smile, and when I lean in, he quickly kisses my cheek. “Stop trying to catch me in an improper situation, Ms. Mercer.”
I snort. “Okay, Debutante Dawson.”
His bark of laughter runs down my spine as we make our way out of my hidey-hole. When our feet hit the ground, he faces me, his face flushed and beautiful. He smiles widely, reaching to pull hay from my hair as he tsks. “Man, we should have tumbled since you look like you did.”
I jerk a thumb. “We can go back.”
Dawson snakes an arm around my waist, pulling me close, and I grin up at him. God, he makes me happy. “I kissed you for the first time on the quad in front of the whole school. The next time will be just for us.”
I sigh. “Fine. I’ll be patient.”
He winks. “I remember you saying you would never ask for my kiss.”
“I think we were both a little na?ve at the beginning.”
His hand finds mine, pressing them into my back as he threads our fingers together. “We were, but look at us now.”
“I almost don’t believe it.”
He smirks. “I do.”
Gah, his confidence! This has to be the moment he kisses me.
His eyes fall to my lips, and when he licks his, my heart kicks up.
The October air is crisp and full of all kinds of fun flavors, but his is my favorite.
That woodsy, spicy scent that has me begging to taste him.
I arch into his touch, and his lips curve before he shakes his head.
“Ambrosia…” He pauses. “What’s your middle name? ”
I give him a look that says my middle name shouldn’t be a topic right now, but he holds me firmly, waiting. I relent. “Alegría.”
His dimples flash, obviously liking my name. “Alegría?”
“It means joy.”
His eyes soften as he brushes his nose with mine, “Ambrosia Alegría, are you a bit impatient?”
I can’t believe I whimper, but I do. Pathetic. I know. “Kiss me.”
He shakes his head, his lips right there as he brushes his nose along mine. “Nah, I think I’ll wait a little longer.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
He clicks his tongue at me. “But, my heart-stopper,” he says, his lips stopping right at mine, “the wait is part of the game.”
I glare before he kisses my nose then pulls me with him, chuckling.
“Smug bastard,” I mutter, and he barks a laugh. I watch his beautiful profile, the way the sun kisses his cheekbones, and how his eyes sparkle with light bouncing off the oranges and reds of the trees.
“Ambrosia?”
I pause mid-step and feel that sense of dread fall over me.
I look over to find none other than Grace G.
looking every bit the damn Instagram mom with her flowing blond hair, huge boobs, and skinny little waist. On her hip is a young child, maybe just over a year old, a little boy, and beside her is a rather large man with a baby strapped to his chest.
Her family.
I cut contact with the Graces when I moved out after my dad passed.
They never reached out, even though they knew I had lost my father.
And after I moved, they still didn’t contact me.
They didn’t even come to the funeral. Fine by me.
I didn’t want anything to do with them anyway, and thankfully, I haven’t seen any of them until now.
Her blue eyes widen when she looks at Dawson, and then I watch her eyes move to where his hand is tight around my waist. “Dawson Sinclair?”
Dawson looks at me, his brow arched, and I want to laugh. Instead, I say, “Grace G., how are you?”
She wrinkles her nose at me. “Actually, it’s just Grace now. Grace Miller. This is my husband Josh, our little boy, Jim, and our little girl, Amy.”
I bet they have a farmhouse with a white picket fence and two golden retrievers. “Wow, congratulations.”
Her husband, who is quite handsome with dark brown eyes and blond hair, looks between all of us. He is tall but nowhere near Dawson’s height. Nor is he as good-looking, but I can tell he loves his wife. “How do y’all know each other?”
Grace smiles widely, but I know that’s her fake one. “Ambrosia and I were roommates in college, and I dated Dawson for a bit.”
My stomach clenches in pure envy, but before I can even really feel the emotion, Dawson speaks up. “We didn’t date. It was a one-time thing.”
Josh glances at Grace, and she giggles, her face flushing. “Well, yeah, but it sounds better—”
“But it’s not true. I didn’t date before Ambrosia.”
Really? Is this real life? Did he just say that to Grace Miller, with just as much confidence as Kendrick Lamar calling out Drake at the Super Bowl?
I look up at Dawson, and once again, I’m caught off guard by how self-assured he is. He looks over at me then brings our joined hands to his lips.
Grace, though, she sputters, “You’re dating her?”
He kisses my knuckles again. “Yeah.”
Grace looks positively put out, but I won’t let her ruin this for me. “I’m hungry.”
Dawson’s gaze falls to mine, and he nods. “Caramel popcorn?”
I beam. “Yes, please.”
“Let’s go.”
And then he pulls me away, not even saying bye. I lean into his side, and I feel… I don’t know. I don’t want to say I feel good that he put Grace in her place because I’m a girl’s girl, but it made me feel important when he specified what she was to him.
And I know he did it because he wanted to.
Because I mean something to him.
Breathless and feeling every emotion in the book, I know I need a distraction. “Are we carving the pumpkins we get?”
He side-eyes me. “Duh.”
“Tonight?” I ask, eager and not the least bit ashamed of it. “Or do you have workouts?”
Dawson glances over at me, smiling ear to ear, his eyes just for me. “I worked out this morning so I could be all yours all day.”
All mine.
Shit. I really like the sound of that.
But…does he mean forever?
Do I want forever?
Damn it all to hell.
Why didn’t I keep my walls up?