Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Dash
For the first time since June, I breathe in the crisp fall air of Cinnamon Creek—from downtown. For years, I’ve taken this place for granted. I’ve avoided people so I didn’t have to face my guilt about the fire.
But no one gives me a dirty or disgusted look.
Some of them are admittedly confused, not just by my rare appearance, but by my smiling.
But fuck it.
I’m a happy man.
I’ll smile all damn day if I want to.
“You have to try Ivy’s cinnamon rolls,” I say to Stormi when I return to my truck and hand her the bakery bag. “They’ll change your life.”
“You really love your sweets, don’t you?” she teases.
My eyes purposely drop to her pussy for several seconds, then back to her bright blue gaze. “I sure do.”
When I went into the bakery, Stormi opted to stay in my truck. She was determined to see if her smashed phone was salvageable. Judging by the way it sits in her lap now, screen cracked and black, I’m guessing it didn’t work.
“You can get a new one,” I reassure her.
“I know. But for now, you better get me back to the lodge. I need to talk to Erin.”
It’s not until we’re in the parking lot that I feel the first hint of panic rise in my chest. The reality of the situation begins to surface.
We spent all night—and most of this morning—naked and tangled in one another. I know every inch of her body. How it tastes, how it feels, which spots make her whimper in delight. But the one thing we didn’t do was talk about the future.
“Stormi—”
“I’m going to need to go back,” she says, averting my gaze. “To Omaha. At least for a little while. I need to make sure my sister is okay—”
“This isn’t going to work, is it?”
“What?”
“This. Us.”
“Did you hit your head?” she asks, the question more serious than it should be.
“You’ll leave. You’ll promise to come back in two weeks, then in two months.
Next thing you know, it’ll be summer, and you’ll stop returning my calls.
” I don’t know what the fuck is up with my insecurity leak, but I can’t seem to find the hole to plug it up.
My mouth just keeps spewing shit. “This was impulsive, right? It was doomed from the start. I mean, we just met two days ago—”
“Dash, shut up.”
Her directness has its desired effect.
“I’m going to go inside and talk to my sister. You go do whatever it is you need to do to get your head out of ass. But you better figure that out in the next hour, before I have to get on that shuttle.”
With that, she hops out of my truck, slamming the door behind her.
I sit there for several minutes after she disappears inside, staring at the door. Which is why I don’t see Flynn Conners come up to my window until he knocks on it. I damn near piss myself in surprise.
I roll down the window.
“You okay, man?” he asks.
Having both grown up in Cinnamon Creek, Flynn and I go way back. He’s younger than I am, but I used to hang around his brother. Flynn was always the tagalong. But I’ve always liked the kid, even when he was annoying the shit out of me.
“I’m good.”
“You don’t look it.”
“What are you doing at the lodge?” I ask, hoping to divert. “I thought you didn’t do wildlife tours on Sundays.”
“I don’t.”
“Where’s Tabby?” I ask of his daughter.
“Still with her mom,” he answers. “Now you want to try answering my question?”
“I’m just taking a day off,” I say, telling a half truth. “Buddy of mine is manning the tower and hanging out with Blaze until I get back.”
“You never take a day off.” His statement is an accusation. “Which one did you fall for?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The bridal party. Which one got you?”
It’s now that I notice how relaxed Flynn looks. Since the divorce, I’ve only ever known him to be high strung and constantly stressed. “You’re here about a woman?” I guess.
“So are you.”
“So what if I am?”
“You don’t look happy about it,” he points out.
“It’s…complicated.”
“So? The real question is, is it worth figuring it out?”