Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Joey
DFW @BodaciousBuckaroo211
If you find a woman who can cook, never let her go.
6 ?2 ?9
JoeyB @JoeVSVolcano
Why? Because a woman’s place is in the kitchen? #misogynyatitsfinest
5 ?1 ?17
DFW @BodaciousBuckaroo211
That’s not what I said. I love to cook, and I would definitely do my share of the kitchen duty. It’s just nice to be treated to an excellent meal created by a beautiful woman every once in a while.
5 ?2 ?13
JoeyB @JoeVSVolcano
Oh, so she needs to be beautiful AND talented in the kitchen. Do you expect her in dresses, heels, and pearls when you get home from a long, hard day’s work?
4 ?3 ?21
Poppy.Bee @Poppy.Bee1
@BodaciousBuckaroo211 Maybe you should quit while you’re ahead. JoeyB seems ready to rumble this morning.
0 ?1 ?12
DFW @BodaciousBuckaroo211
Dude, relax. I expect nothing. I just appreciate good food. #NoPearlsNecessary #OrHeels #OrDresses
3 ?0 ?3
JoeyB @JoeVSVolcano
Oh, so now you want a cookie for not being Ward Cleaver?
2 ?0 ?2
DFW @BodaciousBuckaroo21 1
Only if a beautiful woman bakes it for me.
I mean, if you’re going to accuse me of being sexist, I might as well act the part, right?
1 ?2 ?4
JoeyB @JoeVSVolcano
And you play that part so accurately. Makes one wonder how much of a stretch it actually is…
0 ?0 ?2
I close out the app and drop my phone to the desk beside my computer. I’m angry at Buckaroo, sure, but even more so at myself for being so…juvenile. There’s nothing wrong with appreciating a partner who can cook, no matter their gender. I’ve just gotten to the point in this war between us that I feel like I have to argue with everything he says. It’s always brought me this sense of sick satisfaction, but today, it’s different.
Maybe because I’m growing tired of this year-long battle between us.
No. Not really. Up until just now, it’s filled my day with a sense of excitement and anticipation.
My feelings about it today have more to do with the excellent mood I’ve been in all morning. I woke up with thoughts of last night dancing through my head, and I swear, I could still feel Dallas’ lips pressed against mine. His tongue exploring my mouth and leaving me breathless.
And letting Buckaroo’s post irritate me and kill that buzz has put me in a shit mood. I can’t even blame him for it. I have no one to blame but myself. I don’t have any customer service chat requests at the moment, so I pick my phone back up to text the girls. But as I open my texting app, a message comes through from my sister.
Callie: OMG Joey! You didn’t tell us your new neighbor works for Linc!
Didn’t I? I guess not.
Me: I just figured it out on Saturday when he mentioned his new boss brought his brother with him to O’Malley’s Friday night. How do you know?
Callie: Dallas mentioned you to Linc this morning, and Linc texted Royal.
Me: What did he say?
Callie: Who? Linc?
Me: Dallas. What did he say to Linc about me?
Callie: I don’t know every detail. Linc just told Royal his new carpenter is your neighbor. Nothing more.
God. Am I disappointed or relieved that Dallas didn’t seem to go into detail about us hanging out? Does this mean the time we’ve spent together––and that kiss ––meant nothing to him? Or is he just respecting my privacy, knowing that anything he tells Linc will eventually get back to my sister via Royal?
Callie: Why are you freaking out?
Me: I’m not freaking out .
Callie: Josette.
Me: Okay. Fine. I was about to text you and the girls anyway. Let’s move this convo to our group chat.
Closing my thread with Callie, I open the group chat and type out a message.
Me: So, Callie already figured this out, but my new neighbor Dallas works for Linc. He met Linc and Royal at O’Malley’s on Friday night, and while he was fixing my cabinets on Saturday, I figured it out. Sorry I forgot to text to inform you all immediately (insert eyeroll here), but I’ve been kind of busy. We had dinner at the taco shop on Saturday night, and yesterday, he invited me to go with him to the beach. After that, I invited him over for dinner, made him Mom’s baked ziti, and we watched You’ve Got Mail. Then, as he was leaving, he kissed me, and it was fucking perfect.
Callie: Holy shit. You’ve been holding out on us even more than I thought.
Twila: Yassssss, queen. Get it. I’m so happy for you!
Raven: With tongue? Or without?
Twila: Jesus, Raven. That’s what you want to know?
Raven: Yes, actually. I’m in the middle of a dry spell and I need to live vicariously through you guys.
I bark out a laugh as I type a response.
Me: With.
Raven: And you let him leave?
Me: Yes. And it was perfect.
Callie: I’m still mad that you’ve been holding out on us, but I’m so happy for you, Sis. When do we get to meet him ?
Twila: Yes! We must meet him immediately.
Me: I don’t know, guys. I don’t exactly know what we are, and I don’t want you guys to scare him off.
Twila: We would never.
Raven: If he can’t handle us, he doesn’t deserve you.
Callie: I promise I’ll keep a leash on Raven, and we’ll all be on our best behavior.
Raven: Dammit, Cal. I just told you I’m going through a dry spell. Please don’t talk about putting a leash on me.
Twila: Kinky bitch.
Callie: What if I PROMISE to put a leash on you? Will you behave in front of Joey’s new boyfriend?
Raven: Yes, Madame.
Me: He’s not my boyfriend!
I type the words, but I can’t deny the fluttering in my chest at the mere thought of Dallas being just that. My computer dings as a chat box pops up, and I quickly type out a message to the girls.
Me: I have to go. I have a customer. I’ll think about it, okay?
I close the app before waiting for a reply and set my phone to silent before responding to the customer. I work on autopilot as my mind wanders back to Dallas. The thought of us becoming more, of actually being in a relationship doesn’t fill me with anxiety like it would with someone else I just met. He’s proven that he sees me. He sees the real me, with all my idiosyncrasies, and he’s not backing away.
When I finish with my customer, I push out of my chair and head into the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee. While it brews, I pat my hair and look down at myself. I normally work in pajamas or sweats. It’s one of the perks of working from home. But today? Today, I showered, shaved, and blow-dried my hair into fat waves before getting dressed in a nice pair of jeans and a boatneck sweater.
You know, on the off-chance Dallas might stop by on his lunch break, or something.
It’s silly, I know. It’s his first day on the job. Of course, he’s not going to just stop by. But just in case, I wanted to look decent.
When I get back to my desk, I check my phone to see responses from the girls to my last message, encouraging me to really think about introducing them to Dallas and ensuring me everything will be okay.
There’s also a message from the man, himself. My heart skips a beat as I open the thread and read his text.
Dallas: Good morning. Just wanted to let you know I’m having a great first day so far, and I hope yours is going just as well.
Another customer request comes through before I can respond, so I set my phone aside. A flurry of chats initiate one after the other after that, and an hour passes before I get a break. Reading Dallas’ text again, I type out a response.
Me: I’m so glad it’s going well. My morning has been busy, but at least it makes the time go by faster.
I send the message and set my phone down, and my eyebrows jack up when my phone chimes with an immediate response from Dallas. I assumed I’d have to wait until he had another free moment. Picking the phone back up, I read his reply.
Dallas: We have so much time, and so little to do.
Me: Ha! Willy Wonka. Gotta try harder to get one over on me.
Dallas: All right. All right. I’ll try harder next time. I need to get back to work, but I’ll text you later.
Me: Okay. Talk to you later.
Dallas: Bye, Josette.
Me: Bye, Dallas.
There’s no use fighting the smile on my face, which sticks around for the rest of my shift. I’m the victor against the impulse to check my phone for more messages the whole day, but at five o’clock, the second I’ve logged out of my work system, I stop fighting the urge and check it. I’m not disappointed when I see a message Dallas sent fifteen minutes ago.
Dallas: Hey. Linc’s insisting on taking me out for an early dinner to celebrate my first day, but are you busy later? I’d love to see you.
Me: I’d like that.
Dallas: Great. My place? I can shoot you a text after I get home and get cleaned up.
Me: Sounds good. See you then.
Dallas: I can’t wait.
Closing out my thread with him, I quickly pull up the one between Twila and me.
Me: Help! Dallas invited me over tonight to hang out, and I need an outfit. Can you come over and help me choose something?
I don’t have to wait long for her reply.
Twila: No. You come here. You can pick something out of my closet.
I grin as my thumbs fly over my phone’s screen.
Me: Thanks, Bestie! I’ll be there in ten.
Twila’s a bit taller than me, so none of her pants or jeans will work, but she has a closet full of dresses thanks to her work as a fashion and beauty influencer on BingBang. Her videos always go viral, and she has over four million followers, so designers send her samples all the time in hopes that she’ll give them a shout-out in one of her videos.
Her internet stardom also means she’s the only one of our friend group who owns her own house. It’s on the edge of town and boasts a large yard with a swimming pool with a built-in hot tub. I make it to her house with a minute to spare, and the front door swings open as I approach like she was there the whole time, waiting for me.
“Get in here,” she says, pulling me in for a quick hug before leaning back to scan my face. “Your hair looks great today.”
My cheeks heat as she turns to close the door behind us. “I did it this morning.”
“On the off-chance a handsome neighbor might pop by?” she asks with a single raised brow.
I nod. She knows me too well.
“You like him,” she says. Then shakes her head before I can respond. “I knew you liked him, but…you like him, like him. ”
She pulls me down the hall and into her bedroom without waiting for a response. As if it’s obvious she’s right. And, as usual, she is.
I do like like Dallas.
“Okay,” she says, releasing me to pull open her closet doors, “you said he invited you to his place to hang out?”
“I don’t…know. He wasn’t that specific.”
Pulling out my phone, I read his message to Twila. She stops rifling through her dresses to look over her shoulder at me, her eyebrows raised.
“‘I’d love to see you’ isn’t the same thing as ‘Let’s hang out,’ Joey.”
“What do you mean?”
She shakes her head and turns back to the clothes, and the screech of hangers sliding along the metal pole reaches my ears before she says, “‘I’d love to see you’ is infinitely sexier. He wants to make out, at the very least. Which means we need an outfit with easy access. Maybe a wrap dress.”
“No,” I bark. “No way.”
“Joey,” she says, emerging from the closet with no less than three dresses for me to choose from, “he kissed you last night. With tongue. ”
“I knew I shouldn’t have told you guys that,” I groan as my face heats.
“Yes, you should’ve. Armed with that information, and knowing he’s eager to see you again tonight, I can now tell you without a shadow of a doubt that this man wants you. You don’t have to second-guess his intentions or your own assumptions.” She pauses, eyeing me with a narrowed gaze. “Do you want him ?”
I only have to ponder the question for a millisecond. No doubt about it, I do want him. Twila must see the certainty on my face because her own expression softens into a pleased smile.
“Good. Now try these on so I can see which one looks best.”
As I strip off my jeans and sweater, she shouts at me to wait and rushes back into her closet to rifle through a drawer. She comes back with a black, lacy bra and panty set, and my eyes widen.
“They’re brand new,” she says, flipping the lace over to show me the tags that are still attached. “A lingerie company sent me some samples in a few different sizes. These are too small for me, but I think they’ll fit you.”
Then she says she’s grabbing us some drinks and leaves the room. I don’t know if she’s actually thirsty, but I do know that she knows me better than anyone besides maybe Callie. And she knows I’m not comfortable getting completely naked in front of anyone.
Oh, God. If this night goes the way Twila obviously thinks it will, I’ll be getting completely naked in front of Dallas.
I quickly strip out of the underwear I’m wearing and look at my reflection in the mirror beside the closet. My boobs are a little on the small side, just like my stature. My hips, thighs, and ass are a bit curvy compared to the rest of me, but I haven’t heard any complaints from the men who’ve seen me naked…all two of them .
I pull on the bra and underwear before Twila can return, and I have to admit, they look good on me. The underwire and sliver of padding in the bra cups lift my boobs and give me some actual cleavage, and the Brazilian cut of the underwear makes my ass pop in the best way.
“Hot,” Twila squeals as she reenters. “Here, let me get those tags.”
She moves in and pops the tags off before tossing them on her bed. Then she grabs a dress and holds it up. It’s black with red cherries printed all over it. Pulling it off the hanger, she tosses it to me before sitting on the edge of her bed to wait.
Untying the belt, I slide it on like a robe, overlapping one edge and tying the belt around my waist to secure it. I hold out my arms for Twila’s inspection, and she nods excitedly. Turning around, I face the mirror, and my eyes widen.
I look…sexy. Thanks to the push-up bra, I fill out the top perfectly and the deep V shows off the swells of my breasts. The belt accentuates my small waist before the flare of my hips and ass.
“You look like a fucking pin-up model, Jo,” Twila breathes. “This is the one. You don’t need to try anything else on. Dallas is going to lose his mind when he sees you. Here.”
I turn to see her holding out a pair of black strappy sandals with chunky heels. I sit on the chair beside me and strap my feet into them before standing. I like the extra height, and the thicker heels will help ensure I don’t break an ankle trying to walk in them.
“Perfect,” Twila says, then hops up to hug me. “Now, go. Go drive that man to distraction and get you some.”
A laugh bursts through my lips, and she chuckles with me.
“I love you,” I breathe as I release her.
“Love you, too. Now, go. And text me later to let me know how it goes.”
She swats my ass, and I grab the unopened bottle of water she brought for me before gathering up my discarded clothes and leaving. I’m a bit nervous driving back home, but it’s a good nervous, for once. Any anxiety I might be feeling about tonight aside, I’m excited to see Dallas again.
When the elevator doors slide open on my floor, I step out, then freeze when I see Dallas at his door. He looks at me, then back at the door he’s unlocking before his head snaps back in my direction. His eyes are wide as they travel from the top of my head to my feet and back up again. I force myself to move, and he remains stock-still as I approach.
“Hey,” I breathe, and his throat works as he swallows thickly and returns the greeting.
He smells like sawdust, sweat, and man, and fuck, my nipples harden as I breathe deep. I was today years old when I realized that particular scent combination turns me on. I wonder if I can convince him not to shower before I come over .
“You look…stunning,” he says like he was searching for the right adjective before settling on that one.
“Thank you,” I say, forcing myself not to fidget under his heady stare.
“I…uh…” he stutters as he grips the back of his neck, “I’ll text you in a few after I’ve cleaned up.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay,” he replies, but continues to stand there.
“Okay,” I repeat again, and he startles as if waking from a dream.
“Right. Okay. See you soon,” he says, his movements jerky as he opens his door and strides inside.
A wide grin breaks across my face as I turn toward my own door and unlock it. I head inside, and once the door’s closed behind me, I drop the bag of clothes I wore to Twila’s and lean back against the door with a deep breath. Dallas was definitely, undeniably gobsmacked.
I’m going to have to buy Twila something pretty for loaning me this dress.
Twenty minutes later, I get the text from Dallas. After replying that I’d be right over, I run into the bathroom to freshen my breath with a swish of mouthwash. Then I drink some water so the minty scent won’t be so strong because, yeah, I don’t want to appear to be trying too hard.
And I’m overthinking things again. I take a deep, cleansing, somewhat minty breath, blow it out slowly, then grab my keys and phone before heading over to Dallas’.
The door swings open a second after I knock like he was waiting on the other side for me. Before I can say a word, his hand snakes out to grip my wrist. He pulls me inside and kicks the door closed behind him as he pulls me into a tight hug. His back is bowed as he stoops over, and his chin rests lightly on my head. I slowly wrap my arms around him, and when I tighten my grip to hug him back, he heaves a contented sigh.
Like he’d been waiting all day for a hug from me.
He smells good––like soap and something leathery––and though I like the scent, it doesn’t make me feral like his dirty, I-worked-wood-with-my-hands-all-day smell did earlier. That’s probably a good thing. Maybe. Definitely.
Dallas tightens his grip for a moment before releasing me and stepping back. His eyes eat up the length of me as he bites his lower lip, and the sight of him doing so sets off a fluttering in my lower abdomen.
He shakes his head and clears his throat before taking my hand and pulling me toward the living room, asking, “Do you want a beer? Or something else to drink?”
“A beer sounds good,” I answer.
“Make yourself at home,” he says, motioning toward the couch.
It’s long and made of deep brown leather. I settle at one end as I look around the room. His décor is masculine, yet tasteful, with lots of beautifully crafted wooden furniture. A large coffee table in front of the couch, matching end tables, and a meticulously carved hutch that houses his television and other electronics. I look back down at the coffee table and see the legs are carved with swirls and edging that matches the hutch. It’s some kind of redwood that’s varnished with a glossy finish.
“Do you like it?” Dallas asks, startling me as he sits beside me on the couch with two beer bottles.
He jerks his head toward the table, and I nod. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he says with a smile. “It took me months to finish it.”
“You made it?” I asked, my pitch rising a half an octave.
He nods. “The end tables and the hutch, too.”
“You’re so talented,” I breathe, leaning forward to run a fingertip along the glossy, beveled edge of the table.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, then taps at his phone’s screen.
A moment later, soft music echoes from a speaker nestled on one of the hutch’s shelves. It feels very…seductive. I let out a shaky breath and sit back, angling my body toward Dallas’. I need to change the subject before I do something stupid, like…
I can’t even think it.
“So, tell me about your amazing first day of work,” I say, injecting a little extra brightness into my tone.
“Well, first of all,” he says, smiling, “Linc is awesome. He asked for my opinions and actually took my advice instead of just telling me to do things his way. And he actually got dirty, helping me with the framing of the room addition we started on today. We just…clicked. We work well together. It’s a big relief, considering I packed up my life and moved here without knowing how it was going to go.”
“That’s great, Dallas,” I say. “Like I said before, I’ve met Linc a few times through Royal, and he seems like an upstanding guy. He’s nice.”
Dallas tilts his head, his smile dimming a bit. “Did they try to set you up with him?”
“What?” I blurt, a bit stunned. “No. No, of course not.”
“Oh. Okay. Good,” he says, and I can’t miss the relief imbuing the words.
Was he…jealous?
“I really want to kiss you again,” he says suddenly, breaking off my train of thought.
I swallow thickly and nod, whispering, “I really want you to kiss me again.”
Leaning toward me, he takes the bottle from my hand and sets it on a coaster on the coffee table before setting his own beside it. He’s smiling as he leans in, cupping my cheeks with both hands. He spreads his fingers, digging the tips lightly into the sides of my neck while his thumbs lift my chin.
Then his lips are on mine, brushing back and forth softly. My hands lift to his cheeks before sliding into his hair and gripping it lightly. As if that was a cue he was waiting for, Dallas groans and tilts his head, deepening the kiss. His tongue slips between my parted lips to brush against mine, and a moan of pleasure rumbles in my chest.
The sound sets off something inside him, because one of his hands slides to the back of my head and grips my hair, tugging it gently as he kisses me harder. His tongue plunders my mouth, leaving me gasping for air between kisses.
I’m lost, spinning through outer space on the tail of a comet as Dallas ravages my mouth, and all I want is more . Harder. Deeper.
But then he groans, softens his kiss to a few light nibbles, then pulls away to meet my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he huffs on an exhale. “I meant to take things slowly, but I got a little carried away there.”
“Oh,” is all I can say, and I release his hair to drop my hands to my lap between us.
“I just don’t want to push you too far or pressure you into something you’re not ready for yet,” he says, moving his own hands down to take both of mine. When I just stare at our joined hands, he says, “Hey. Look at me.”
When I lift my gaze to his, he’s wearing an earnest expression. His fingers squeeze mine, and he takes a long, deep breath before speaking again.
“I need you to tell me how fast and how far you want to go.”
My eyes widen in panic, and he leans in and presses a few soft kisses to my mouth until I relax.
Then he kisses a path to my ear and whispers, “I want you, Josette. But I refuse to push you into something you might not be ready for. I need you to be sure. I don’t want you to regret anything when it comes to you and me.”
My entire being swells with emotion at those words, and my eyes sting with tears. Though I’m in my mid-twenties, I’ve only ever had one real boyfriend, a guy I dated during my senior year in high school. He pressured me to have sex after we’d been dating for just a handful of weeks, and I’d given in because I didn’t want to disappoint him. It was awful, and I broke up with him the next day.
In the years since, I’ve dated here and there, usually when Callie or Twila would set me up with someone. I’ve kissed a few guys and even had sex with one, but it never felt like this. I’ve never felt like I might wither and die if a guy stopped touching me. Like I might if Dallas stops touching me.
Dallas jerks backward at the sight of my glassy eyes, saying, “Oh, God, Josette. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t,” I say quickly, gripping his hand tighter. “I’ve just…never had a man treat me with such patience and kindness before.”
His brow lowers as he frowns. “That’s the very least you deserve. That’s the least anyone deserves.”
Then his expression smooths out, and he releases one of my hands to swipe away a tear that escaped with the pad of his thumb. My teeth worry at my bottom lip, and he tilts his head, waiting for me to say whatever’s on my mind.
Taking a breath, I ask, “Can we kiss some more?”
“Fuck, yes,” he says with a laugh, then leans in to press his mouth to mine.
We laugh together as we kiss, and we spend the next hour or so talking between bouts of making out like teenagers. He doesn’t try to take things any further, and I, of course, used up all my bravery asking for more kisses. But that’s okay.
It’s great , actually. A perfect night with a damn-near perfect man.
And as we say goodnight at his door with one last kiss, I already can’t wait to see him again. It’s official.
I am undeniably, irrevocably smitten with Dallas Westfield.