4. - – Dean
CHAPTER FOUR
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DEAN
When I picked Jules up, she answered the door in an azure wrap dress that highlighted every seductive curve.
I was compelled to invade her home—to conquer and claim her.
Years of pent-up hunger had left me famished for the taste of her.
I reminded myself, two months was all I had to help her remember what we once were.
So instead of being the caveman I ached to be, I opened the passenger door on my truck for her, and started our date—yes, it was real for me.
Every single fucking moment with her would be real.
Jules wanted dinner at the tavern which worked out because being seen at Willow’s would fan the flames of gossip and get her aunties to shut up.
Not to mention, Nash was the best chef in Inverness.
After culinary school, he returned to run the tavern with his sister by adding a full menu.
I didn’t care about the food or location.
It was surreal, having Jules sitting at the same table with me, on a real date, something we’ve never done, but I’d dreamt about countless times throughout the years.
“How’s your jaw?” Jules leaned into me and pushed her fingertips along my stubbled jawline.
“Fine, Princess. Jett doesn’t throw a punch as mean as he once did.”
She shook her head. “You two need to grow up. I knew he’d be mad, but I didn’t expect him to hit you.”
“Have you met your oldest brother?”
“Yeah, fought with him too, plenty of times.”
“Then you know he’s a hothead who throws hands first and asks questions later.” I claimed her hand when she stopped examining the bruise.
“I do. I’m sorry he hit you for nothing.”
“It wasn’t for nothing. It was for you.”
“Dean, you’re doing me a favor and got hit for it. You get nothing out of that other than pain.”
The punch paled in comparison to the anguish of losing her. “Remember, I’ve got my own reasons. Trust me, I’m good.”
Right before she could object, Holly appeared. “Here y’all go.” With precise efficiency, she delivered our food and drink refills. “Do y’all need anything else?”
“No, Holly, tell Nash thank you.”
“Will do, honey.”
I leaned over and kissed Jules on the cheek. Her skin was addicting.
“Would you stop?”
“Stop what?” I cut into my steak.
“Kissing and touching me.”
I took a bite and swallowed before responding. “Princess, we’re here to sell this.”
“Right.” She sighed, grabbed her whiskey sour, and drank deeply.
She’d oddly requested Nash be the one to make her drink. Holly winked and said, “Of course,” like it was a standing request.
“How’s the food?”
“Amazing. Nash makes the best pasta.”
“And cocktails, apparently.” I took another bite, followed by water… The bourbon would have to wait.
Jules set her flatware down and turned to me. “What does that mean?”
“Nash makes every drink for you. It got me thinking. I’ve never seen you out drinking or eating anywhere other than Willow’s Tavern. Why is that, Jules?”
“I have my reasons. Nash does make everything for me, and no, you don’t get anything further.” Her attention returned to her food.
“Fair enough.”
Case closed—for now. I needed a neutral subject, to help her feel safe with me, but we hadn’t talked since right after the funeral.
I hated to admit it—I didn’t know Jules anymore.
We ate in comfortable silence… The ease between us familiar and serene.
Right when I prepared to ask her about teaching, the worst possible group approached our table.
“Julia! We thought that was you.”
She went rigid beside me. Jules’ aunties were a cackle of hyenas swooping in to steal the joy out of the room like scavenged meat.
With a deep sigh, Jules pushed her food away, appetite gone, thanks to their presence. “Hello, aunties.”
Before they could be stopped, chairs were stolen from surrounding tables, and they joined us, uninvited.
“Ladies, Jules and I are on a date.”
“Young man, that’s exactly why we’re here. We need to know what’s going on. Our niece doesn’t date. Never has. Something about the two of you being together isn’t right.” Ada, the oldest of the sisters, said.
“Isn’t right? Meaning?”
Verna continued like they had a hive mind. “What Ada means is we’ve been trying to marry her off before it’s too late. It’s been futile.”
Jules grabbed my thigh under that table and squeezed.
I wrapped her hand up in mine. These women were ridiculous.
“It’s never too late for love. And it’s her choice when, who, and if she marries.
Don’t you agree?” Nails bit into the flesh of my hand.
Proof these women had been wicked over the years.
“She’s running out of time for babies,” her auntie Polly pointed out, then leaned back, crossing her arms.
Jules’ body shook—that’s it. With her hand still in mine, I pulled a couple of hundreds out and threw them to the table.
“We’re done.” The sound of my chair raking across the floor draped the room in deathly silence. With hollow eyes, Jules looked up at me. “Come on, Princess.” I pulled her out of the chair, wrapping a protective arm around her.
“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done here,” Ada barked.
“You see, Ada, that’s your first mistake.
You don’t demand shit from me. Not when the conversation starts or stops.
I determine that. Secondly, you don’t get to choose if or when Jules gets married or if she has babies—that’s her fucking choice.
This stops—right the hell now. Don’t ever speak to my woman like that again.
Don’t bring up marriage or babies to her. Ever. Again.”
“How dare you! She’s family. And who are you?” Ada spat.
I stepped in front of Jules, shielding her body with mine. “How dare I? How dare you—you’ve lost the right to claim her as family.”
“You can’t do that,” Verna exclaimed.
“Just did.”
I turned, hugging Jules to my side, and led her out of Willow’s. I discovered one reason my Princess had lost faith in people. With wretchedly wicked aunties like that, who wouldn’t?