Chapter 29
dax
Today feels like a dream, one I don’t want to wake up from.
Getting this one-on-one, uninterrupted time with Clementine, painting each other, having sex—though I somehow missed out on the blow job she promised me—is heaven.
I love watching her in her element but also not worried about being a mom.
She’s free to be a woman, wild and reckless.
I love when she comes undone, knowing I’m the reason for her pleasure.
It feeds my ego watching women come, but none so much as Clementine.
Seeing her succumb to an orgasm is a high, one I didn’t know was missing from my life.
Now that I know, I’m not sure I can give it up.
Forget about it. Never experience it again.
After I fix the hinge and we shower together, I throw on my dirty clothes and head home, leaving Clementine to clean up our arting mess.
I enter through the door by the garage to thwart interrogation if someone from upstairs spots me, quickly change into a more appropriate outfit for our date, and am out the door in less than five minutes.
We don’t have an endless amount of time, and I don’t want to rush dinner.
The entire trip takes twenty minutes at most, and when I return to Clementine’s house, she’s on the porch waiting for me. She’s changed into jeans, but her coat hides her top. Her hair has waves in it, a look I’ve yet to see. She’s dazzling, and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to call her mine.
If only for this one dinner.
My elation sinks with the thought. Am I prepared to go all in with her? To be out in public so people know we’re together rather than two adults sharing a meal? To tell my family? I can’t predict their reactions, but I’m sure they’d have some words.
Mainly Beck. And his words wouldn’t all be positive.
Not that he’s warned me not to get with her. Honestly, he probably figures I didn’t need to be warned since in his mind, there’s no way she’d be on my radar.
Clementine traipses the steps and climbs into the passenger seat of my truck. “Your hair looks amazing,” I compliment as soon as the door is open.
She smiles, fully accepting it. “Thanks. Wasn’t sure I’d have time to do it, but I did.” She buckles into the seat, and a ringing phone interrupts our conversation. It must be hers since mine is on silent. “Let me check it’s not your mom.” Her expression sours as she scans the screen. “It’s Willa.”
“You can answer it.”
“Hey.” Willa’s voice fills the cab. Guess I’m a part of this conversation.
“What’s up?”
“Heard you’re kid-free and wanted to see if you were interested in going to Sweetgrass Grill.”
I stifle my chuckle at the unlikely choice of restaurants.
“With you?” Clementine hedges.
“And Beckett.”
“You want me to join you as the third wheel on a date with your husband.” I can’t decipher the emotion filling her high-pitched tone. Would she rather join them and forgo our date? Why does that idea bother me so much?
“Bethany said you were with Dax. Figured the four of us could have a nice dinner together while the boys were entertained.”
“Like a double date?” Her breathing picks up. Is she not ready to confess we’re trying for more? Does she want to keep it a secret?
“Like four adults eating a yummy meal together. Jeez, what’s the obsession with dating?”
“What time were you thinking? So I can make sure Dax is on board, too.”
I snort, and Clementine shoots daggers my way.
“We could go soon. I’m not sure if we need a reservation. I’ll check with Beckett.”
Oh shit. I hadn’t considered needing a reservation. I suppose if they don’t have a table for us, we’ll sit at the bar.
“I’ll chat with Dax and text you.” The call ends without giving Willa a chance to respond. “Well, that’s kinda eerie. What are your thoughts?”
“Selfishly, I want the rest of my six hours with you. But if we say no and go to the same restaurant, it’ll be odd.”
“And if we go with them, I’m not sure if I can keep whatever this is between us a secret. She can suss out my lies like a dog trained to sniff for drugs.”
I can’t help laughing at her analogy. Since she gave me an opening, I ask, “Are we keeping this a secret?” A part of me is nervous for her answer. I’ll follow her lead, but I don’t want to sneak around if we don’t have to. Maybe it’s my pride and wanting the world to know she belongs to me.
“I don’t want people to think you’re my rebound.” She gasps, turning to face me. I got so distracted by the phone call, we haven’t left for the restaurant yet. “Have I given you the impression you’re a rebound?”
“Hadn’t crossed my mind.” Mostly because when I first offered to give her an orgasm, I hadn’t planned on getting here.
I hadn’t thought much past one time or casual, since that’s all I knew.
When she was open to giving me a chance to be something more, my mind didn’t venture into “rebound” territory.
It was too focused on figuring out exactly what this was. “Are you looking for a rebound?”
“Hardly. I wasn’t looking for any kind of relationship or even sex until you showed up at my door on Monday morning. Which, for the record, I’m not upset about at all. I needed that first orgasm like a painter needs paint. And the ones after it, too. And any future ones you want to give me.”
She’s spiraling, so I lay a gentle hand on her knee, kneading with my thumb. “I don’t think we have to worry about people thinking I’m your rebound.” They’ll be too busy lecturing me about not messing it up, I don’t voice aloud.
I hope they don’t judge her for giving me a chance.
Because in their minds, I’m not relationship material, and they won’t be able to figure out what she sees in me.
What makes me think I’d be a suitable partner for her?
Why would I want to settle down with someone who has kids when I’ve made it clear my entire adult life I’m allergic to relationships?
What kind of position am I putting her in by being with her?
A shitty one, that’s what.
And now I’m spiraling. My pulse quickens.
What the fuck am I doing? Who the fuck do I think I am believing I can be the man she needs? To give her a life she and her kids deserve?
My skin crawls at the thought of not pursuing more with her. The thought of walking away right now, going back to being friends, or less than even, is harrowing.
But can I man up?
“Dax?” My name from her mouth breaks the trance I’m in.
“Yeah?”
“Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”
“Fine,” I lie, wishing this weighty feeling sitting on my chest would pass quickly.
“We don’t have to go out for dinner. By ourselves or with Willa and Beckett. We can order in or you could go . . .”
My head twists to take her in. “Is that what you want?”
“Not even a little.”
“They’re going to think I’m not good enough for you.” The words blast from my mouth like a cannon. I couldn’t hold them back if I tried.
“Who’s they?”
“My family. I don’t, uh, have the best track record with women or relationships.
Hell, I may have used the words ‘allergic to commitment’ more than a few times.
” Probably a hundred times at a minimum.
Or some variation of it. “I don’t know if I can risk them thinking poorly of you for thinking you could be the one to change me. ”
“I don’t think that. I’m also an adult who can make her own decisions for her life. What’s it to them if I want to try and make it work with you?” She sounds somewhat offended, and my ego puffs.
“They’ll be looking out for your best interest. Becks, mostly. I’d imagine Willa, too. It’s not only you you need to think about.” How many times has she pointed this out to me?
“Be good to me and to my boys, that’s all I can ask.
I don’t even know what I’m looking for, and yet you’re willing to put aside the fact I’m still married and see where this can go.
Relationships don’t always work out, but that doesn’t mean if it comes to that, the end has to be horrible.
Long as my sister is married to your brother, you’re always going to be a part of my life.
If we, as two consenting adults, decide to pursue something more than friendship, I don’t see how it’s anyone’s business but ours. ”
Fuck, she’s a force to be reckoned with. As much as I want to shut off the engine and make her scream my name, that’s not what we need.
With infused courage, I say, “Text Willa we’re in. And be prepared to walk into the restaurant holding my hand.” I don’t give her a chance to respond or refute my direction.
She’s got as long as the drive takes to get used to the idea.
I slide the truck into a spot between two SUVs. It’s tight but manageable on both sides. Once the engine is off, I climb out, meeting Clementine by the hood of the truck. She was quiet on the drive here, but she’s not upset or put off. She’s quite the opposite: determined and fearless.
I hold out my hand. There’s a possibility she’ll ignore it, walk ahead of me, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
If she has a real problem with any of what we discussed, she would make her opinion known.
She’s very good at that. Still, I’m relieved when she slips her hand in mine.
Even more when she pushes to tiptoes and smacks a kiss on my cheek.
“I want this with you, Dax. Maybe we don’t tell my boys right away, but I’m in.” Her wide smile transforms her face into something more enchanting, even more so than the natural colors of the makeup she applied.
Her words send a rush through me, but it’s not an attempt to throw me off course. It’s exhilarating, the pursuit of something unfamiliar lighting me up.
“Let’s do this.”
Inside the restaurant, we’re escorted to an empty table in the back, waiting for Willa and Beck. It kind of stinks they’re not here. Now we’re going to have to say the words instead of our actions speaking for themselves.