25. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
Beck
“Come here,” Dallas says softly after sitting back down on the sofa across from me. She’s in a light pink T-shirt, jeans, white Keds, and a thin white belt through the belt loops around her waist. Her voice, combined with the ‘come hither’ tone she’s casting is enough to make me float through the air Looney- Tunes style. Like when Bugs Bunny sails across the room following the scent of delicious food.
But I don’t. Not quite yet. I take a moment to remind myself why I have to be careful in this situation, why I can’t get ahead of myself.
First things first.
“Thanks for that.” I think of how she looked when she sat by Leo, equal parts empathetic and respectful.
She waves her hand away. “Leo’s an awesome kid. It was so tender to see him like that.” She places a palm under her throat. “Makes me want to go give that girl a stern talking to.”
I love the protective tone in her voice, and that’s when I figure I’ve done enough self-talk for the moment. The woman asked me to come over there, so I’m going to. But instead of sitting next to her I reach out my hands. “Want to come in the kitchen with me? I feel like bingeing on whatever I can find. You know, to numb my disappointment over the loss.”
She grasps both of my hands and I pull her to stand. “How’s the jaw?” Her brows squeeze together.
I palpitate it with my fingertips. “Fine. It barely hurts anymore.”
She winces and brings her fingers up to trail gently over the swollen area.
I give an exaggerated hiss and she yelps and snatches her hand away.
“I’m kidding,” I tell her. “That didn’t hurt.”
“I’ll give you something that hurts!” She says in mock anger. “But seriously, there is a bruise.” She knits her brows together.
“Trust me, it’s okay.”
“A strong, very good volleyball player hit you in the jaw with a ball going sixty miles an hour,” she says. “I’d say it’s a badge of honor.”
I grin. “I’d say.”
“In all seriousness, I am sorry.” She presses her hands against my triceps, kneading them gently. “It’s not the first time my klutziness has hurt someone.”
“Now I’ve gotta hear the story. Who else have you injured?”
“I don’t know! I’ve probably blocked it out.”
“Look, you’re forgiven.”
Her smile is brilliant. “Oh, and hey, that other team was really good. Your guys did great.”
A flare of bitterness hits me. “I do not like to lose.”
“I know. It’s kind of cute how serious you get about beach volleyball.” She lets go of my arms. It’s disappointing.
I absently rub a hand against my sore jaw.
“Where’s this food you mentioned?” she asks. “I’m feeling hungry, too.”
I walk with her into my kitchen. I open the cupboards and produce a sleeve of Townhouse crackers. “Cheese and crackers?” I grab an apple from a bowl on my counter, something my mom always had for us growing up. “And fruit?”
“Sounds good,” she says.
I get two kinds of cheeses out of the refrigerator. Dallas begins slicing the apple thinly, expertly. She steps to me, offering me a paper-thin apple slice, her brows raised in a question.
I stoop down and open my mouth and she slides it in, her fingers brushing across my lips. This woman is driving me wild.
I chew the cool, sweet, crunchy apple slice and after I swallow, I peel off a slice of cheese from the packaging. She tilts her chin up and parts her lips. I wish my lips were touching hers instead of the cheese.
She’s got her eyes closed and with her lips parted, it would be so easy to lean down and kiss her. I can’t remember all the reasons I’d told myself to hold back where Dallas is concerned.
Oh yeah. She’s a city girl leaving Willow Cove as soon as she can. I’ve seen it before.
But for the first time in my life, I wonder what it could be like to go with her. Doesn’t matter where, as long as it’s with her.
I couldn’t just drop the business. That would be impossible, wouldn’t it?
Except, is my unease at the thought of leaving about Willow Cove, or about staying comfortable? And if staying comfortable prevents me from living the fullest life I can, is that actual comfort? Or is it fear?
I put a small piece of Swiss cheese on her tongue, and she opens her eyes to chew and swallow. Why is this so sexy? We’re just in my kitchen, eating fruit and cheese.
It’s because it’s Dallas. Anything with her would be sexy.
“Let’s try the apple with the cheese on the cracker,” she suggests, turning from me to assemble the sandwich she’s just described.
“I don’t know if I can handle that level of crazy.”
“Now you’re just mocking me.”
She steps to me and goes on her tiptoes, the cracker in her hand and poised to feed me.
“Could you reach me better if we sit?” I ask.
She growls. “This is fine, Beck. I’m used to doing stuff on tiptoe, okay?”
“Which is probably why you have such nice legs.”
She smirks. “When have you noticed my legs?”
“When haven’t I?” It’s dangerous territory, this flirting. But I can’t seem to care right now. In fact, I take one step closer and wrap my hands around her waist.
Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips, which makes me want to kiss her senseless. But she’s ready to feed me a bite of food and I oblige, my mind going through ten different ways I could finally kiss her. I could lift her onto the counter and she could wrap her legs around my waist. I could lift her onto the table to do the same.
Calm down.
I’ve got to be in control. Especially because she’s turned away from me and is walking back toward the living room.
“Where are you going?” I say around the food in my mouth. It’s not polite to speak while eating, I know that. But all reason is leaving my head.
She tosses a glance behind her, her auburn hair swinging against her cheek and neck. Her smile is even more “come hither” than before and now it’s my turn to groan.
In one step I’ve caught up to her and wrap one hand around her waist again, spinning her to me. With the other, I grasp her hand, drawing it close to me, resting her palm against my chest.
The movement sends her stumbling a bit backwards, and she butts up against the side of the refrigerator. I let go of her hand on my chest and lean towards her, placing my palm against the refrigerator near her head, my arm straight from the shoulder.
I take a second to breathe. I have to make sure she’s alright, that she wants this.
I gaze in her deep blue eyes, catching her gaze darting back and forth to my own. I look down at her lips and when I glance back up, her eyes have closed, just a little, like she’s ready for me to kiss her, like she wants me to kiss her.
I can’t disappoint her, now can I?