14. Chapter 14 Fucket List
Jenna: November
I’ve tried everything to avoid Dylan and going back to work. I swear. First, it was the flu. Then a distant relative “died.” Now I’m re-organizing my house. But I’m running out of excuses and closets to clean.
I throw myself into distractions. Scrubbing floors. Sorting junk mail. Even color-coding my books. But it’s pointless. No matter how much I clean, I can’t scrub him out of my head. The way he looks at me. The way my stomach flips when his hands grip my waist like it belongs to him.
I walk toward the bathroom, hoping a shower will help. I turn the nozzle, wait for the water to heat up, and get sidetracked. Maybe I can organize myself out of Dylan’s smile and tight T-shirts with this junk drawer too.
As the steam starts to fog the mirror, and finally I step into the shower. The warm water soothes my muscles, but it does nothing to relax my mind. All I see is Dylan… pressing me against the wall, his mouth on mine. My body sprawled across the desk, begging for more.
The shower head will have to do… for now.
Water pulses between my thighs. I let the vibration work with my fingers, imagining his hands sliding over my wet skin, his lips trailing up my legs. That look in his eyes.
“Oh, Dylan…” I moan. “Right there… yes…”
“Jinx!” Jacob’s voice echoes from outside the door, ripping through the fantasy. “You coming out anytime soon? Breakfast’s been ready for twenty minutes!”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“Eat without me!” I shout, grabbing a towel. “I’m late for work!”
I dry off quickly, slipping into my red bra and matching thong as Jacob walks in.
“Damn.” He grins. “What’s the occasion? We could pretend it’s my birthday and sneak in a quickie before work.”
I force a laugh. “Rain check for tonight?”
“Deal,” he says, eyes trailing over me. “Not sure if you’ve hit your sexual peak at forty, but whatever's gotten into you… I’m not complaining.”
“It’s stress relief,” I say, kissing him like I always do.
But the kiss feels different now. Maybe because someone else’s lips have been on mine.
Maybe because something inside me changed with that kiss, and I don’t know who I am anymore.
One thing I do know… there’s no going back to the woman I was before.
Jacob pulls away, watching me for a second. “And hey… you’ve been looking really nice lately.” He pauses, lowering his voice. “Yeah, I still notice,” he whispers under his breath before walking off.
I let out a sigh, trying to shake off the guilt as I throw on a button-up shirt and jeans. But it clings to my chest. He doesn’t deserve this. Not the lies. Not me pulling away. Not someone else sharing half of my heart… even if he has no idea.
“Focus, Jenna,” I mutter to myself, grabbing my keys. “Just… go to work.”
“Hey, Jinx! Come check out your office. It’s looking so good!” Izzy hollers from across the room as she mingles with coworkers and people from the dental office down the hall. Even a few contractors installing baseboards paused their work to admire the progress.
I place a stack of folders down on Shantel’s newly finished desk. “Thanks for these,” I tell her before heading toward Izzy.
The moment I step inside, my breath catches.
What… the… hell?
Dylan’s work isn’t good, it’s stunning. A buttery yellow accent wall warms the space, while a gold pendant light casts a soft glow from above.
Floating wooden shelves hold my faux plants in one corner.
He even added thin gold trim around the windows.
A small touch of luxury I didn’t know I wanted.
It’s like he reached into my mind and brought it to life… only better.
“Jenna? Earth to Jenna!” Izzy waves her hand in front of my face. But my eyes are fixed on my desk. A small, bright yellow bag sits in the center. Beside it, Dylan’s engraved pen… the one from the day we kissed.
My pulse spikes.
“Sorry, I’m here,” I stammer. “Just amazed by all the work Dylan and his team have done. People can’t stop talking about it.”
Izzy smirks, raising her brow a few times. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind working overtime with Dylan and his crew . ”
I laugh softly, wishing the same thing.
“Izzy, can you come here, please?” Debbie calls out from her office, saying something about paychecks.
Once Izzy disappears, I sit down, reach for the bag, and untie the blue ribbon. As I peek inside, I find… a bib?
Before I can process that, my phone chimes.
Dylan: I know things have been awkward since the kiss. But I’d honestly rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.
My stomach flips. Is “just friends” even possible? How many women has he said this to? What does he really want from me? My body knows exactly what it wants. But my mind screams Jacob, Jacob, Jacob!
And somehow, my mother’s voice chimes in too. Make men beg for you. Never let them know how much you care. Yeah, great advice from someone on partner number seven—or is it eight?
Another ding. This time, it’s a picture of Dylan. He’s shirtless, grinning, wearing the same ridiculous oversized bib with kittens on it from that bag. I burst out laughing, nearly choking on my tea.
Dylan: Found a solution for all your little accidents. Now, I never have to watch white cream drip down your face again. It’s on your desk, next to your “special pen.” My pen.
God, he’s relentless. And the only man who texts without waiting for a reply. His messages are full of life. With Jacob, I’m lucky to get one word. Or one letter. My personal favorite: “K.”
Me: Don’t you know you’re supposed to wait until I text back? And FYI, wrong number. I’ve never spilled anything in my entire life.
Dylan: Stop it. I don’t need to follow rules with you. I’ll text as much as I want until you admit how much you like me…. at least like a friend. A really sexy friend.
I should feel conflicted. Guilty. But instead, every damn light inside me flicks on.
Me: Honestly, I adore your double texts. But sexy friend? You’re pushing it. More like cocky friend. Next thing I know, you’ll be inviting me to Thailand “just as friends.”
Dylan: Hahaha. Great idea. I’ll book us a flight. We’ll go skinny-dipping in Phuket and you can cross that off your bucket list.
Me: Wait. How did you know I’ve always wanted to skinny-dip in Thailand?
Dylan: Lucky guess. But thanks, that mental image of you naked on a beach will keep me warm tonight. Actually, let me do the math. You like being naked + I like being naked = We should get naked together.
Shit. The thought of being naked with him makes my stomach drop to the floor.
Me: Sadly, I suck at math, so I can’t solve your equation. But let me fix your fantasy. My boobs aren’t as perky after two kids. My ass is addicted to chocolate. And I haven’t been flexible since I was thirty. Trust me, you’re not missing anything.
As soon as I hit send, regret smacks me in the face. Why did I type-vomit all of that? I should’ve said, you’d be lucky to have me. Or better, maybe reminded him… I’m married. But my brain is scrambled eggs.
Dylan: That fixes nothing. I like you, Jenna. More than I probably should. And not just because you’re beautiful. You’re real. And pretty fucking amazing. I don’t know what this is between us, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to keep getting to know you.
Shit.
Dylan: Tell your boss you’re sick or have an emergency. Come see me. I’ll have you back in two hours… maybe two days. ;) FYI Light fixtures are on backorder. Renos are delayed a few more weeks.
Double shit.
Is this the universe extending whatever this is ? The one that will inevitably end in heartbreak. I can’t keep coming up with excuses to tell Izzy.
Dylan: Stop smiling because you get to keep me longer at work. Come outside. I’m waiting at Fairview Plaza. A few minutes from your office.
Triple dog shit.
Just friends. For a few more weeks. What the hell do I tell Izzy? What if someone sees my car somewhere it shouldn’t be? What if Jacob finds out I left work early?
I suck in a deep breath, thinking through every possible scenario, and text Izzy.
Me: Leaving work early to get my mom a birthday gift. Some chakra healing stone across the city. She swears it’ll clear out the “bad energies” in her house. Telling Shantel I’m sick… Wish me luck.
Then I grab my things, and bolt to my boss’s office before I chicken out.
That was surprisingly easy. No questions asked. Izzy wished me luck on my mission to find Mom’s latest life-changing gift. Shantel barely looked up when I told her I was sick. Guess working hard all year and rarely calling in sick has its perks.
Pulling into the plaza parking lot, my heart pounds. I shouldn't be here. I know that. This is the point of no return. A voice inside me screams. Turn around. Go home. Save yourself.
Is this really it? The moment I cross that invisible line I can never uncross? The moment my marriage, my family, my entire identity, forever changes? My heart slams faster, rattling in my chest as I step out of my car.
Then I see him. Leaning against his bike, wind-tousled hair, a soft grin tugging at his lips. Logic, guilt, self-fucking-control—flies out the window. My body moves before my brain catches up. I’m choosing feelings over consequences.
I’m choosing him.
He steps closer, reaching for my hand, and I swear the world shifts underneath me. There are no words. Only tension. And in a split second, that line between us disappears.
I climb onto the bike. He passes me a helmet, secures his own, and the engine rumbles beneath us. I grip his hard abs, my palms burning against his body heat, and my stomach becomes a battlefield. Butterflies. Bumblebees. Every nervous creature imaginable swarming inside me.
It’s terrifying and fucking incredible all at once. And still… I don’t let go.
Dylan turns his head slightly. “Do you trust me?” he yells over the roar of the bike.
I laugh, but it comes out shaky. “Should I? Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.” His smile deepens. “Hold tight.”