Chapter 27 Dean
TWENTY-SEVEN
DEAN
Today’s race is a struggle. Everything from handling issues and stops on pit road were a constant battle; nothing was going our way. With Regan slipping through the field, there is a chance that I can still finish ahead of her.
That’s when I see it happen: she blows a tire, goes spinning into the outside wall, coming back down and is hit again, almost rolling over. Just as I take another breath as her car comes to a rest in the grass, I see smoke and now flames coming out from under the hood.
I can’t stop, so I radio Steve. “Is she out of the car?” I frantically ask.
“Yes, she’s out of the car and into the ambulance,” Steve says, bringing my focus back to the race and less on Regan.
The rest of the race goes by in a blur as I’m on autopilot to finish this race. I don’t even know who won or where I even finished in the end. I just know that I need to get to her, see her, feel her, to make sure that she’s okay.
I get out of the car and basically run into the infield to her RV, hoping she’s been released from the care center.
The RV is dark with no signs that anyone is home.
I sit on the front steps for—I don’t know how long.
My head is reeling after seeing her crash so violently, and once again, I couldn’t protect her, just like Daniel.
A voice breaks me out of my spiral, and I look up to see her hazel eyes shining at me.
“Dean? What are you doing here?”
The upper part of her fire suit is tied around her waist, and she’s looking at me like I have ten heads. I stand and take two long strides toward her, looking her over to see if there are any visual injuries.
“Are you okay? That was a hard hit and with the fire, I—” My breathing picks up and I can’t focus on anything.
All I can hear is the blood pumping in my ears, the wreck playing over and over again in my head.
I’ve never been so panicked before. It feels like my heart is going to pound right out of my chest and onto the ground.
“Dean, look at me…look at me.” She grabs the sides of my face with both hands, her touch setting my cheeks aflame.
“I’m fine. I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I’m fine.
” Her hazel eyes bore into mine, still trying to get me to calm down.
My breathing finally begins to slow when she speaks again.
“Is that why you waited here?” She releases my face, skin now cold from the lack of contact.
“I needed to know you were okay. I couldn’t not be there. I couldn’t let that happen again.” Tears start to build, and I turn away as some traitorous ones fall down my face. I wipe them away with the back of my hand.
“I know,” she says in a whisper. She pulls into me so that her head rests on my chest and my cheek rests on the top of her head.
I release a breath at the embrace, releasing all the tension I had.
“I’m fine. You don’t need to stay. Go hang out with the guys.
I’m going to take a nice hot shower and relax tonight. ”
She releases me, and the sounds of a party are already starting off in the distance.
Normally, I’d be the first one at that party, but tonight, I have no desire to be there.
Just here, with her, if she’ll let me. What is happening that I would rather hang out with Regan Brady than party after a race?
“I’d rather hang with you,” I admit. “If you’re okay with it.”
I hope she’ll say yes. I don’t want to have to stay alone in either Taylor or Chase’s RV while they’re partying.
Though I borrowed a fan from Chase, I’m sure that my RV is still wet from all that water getting in.
I hadn’t planned on staying with Regan another night, I was just going to sleep in my truck.
I’d rather be with Regan, she makes me feel seen in my emotions about Daniel.
She doesn’t pity me or feel sorry for me, mainly because she understands, and that’s all I could ask for out of a friend.
Friend? I guess we are friends now. My rival becoming a friend, who would have guessed that?
Even with what happened the previous night, not just the kissing, but when I woke from my nightmare, she’d only listened and comforted me.
I’ve never had that before. That’s what friends are for. Friends and maybe something more.
“I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise. And I need to know how Bridgerton ends,” I say with a smile, allowing my dimple to show through.
She lets out a small giggle. “I need to get cleaned up. Meet me in, say, an hour? Looks like you need to do the same.” She gestures to me still in my fire suit, myself.
I completely forgot that I came straight here, not even bothering to shower or change.
“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”
An hour later, freshly showered and changed, I head back over to Regan’s place and knock.
When she opens the door, I immediately get a whiff of her vanilla scent.
Her hair is still wet from her shower, but she’s in leggings this time.
That doesn’t stop me from remembering what her legs looked like in those shorts.
Easy, killer. You promised to play nice. These thoughts are not nice.
The couch has already been pulled out into a bed, like she’s expecting me to stay. I guess we had the same thoughts for that part.
“I figured your mattress would still be wet, if you still want to stay here that is. You don’t have to or anything, it’s up to you, really. You don’t—” I stop her rambling by placing a hand on her shoulder. She stiffens but then relaxes.
“Thanks, this is fine. Great, actually.” She smiles and gestures for me to sit. I notice Bridgerton is already cued from where we left off last night.
“I made popcorn and have drinks. No beer, but soda and water,” she says, passing me the bowl of popcorn that I’m now noticing the smell of and not just her scent of vanilla.
“Water is fine.” She hands me a cold bottle and grabs one for herself. She positions herself as far from me on the pull-out as she can with the bowl of popcorn between us.
She presses play and we start to watch. We are both engrossed in the show and not saying too much. I glance over and she looks more relaxed now, not as tense as when I arrived.
We finish the last two episodes of Bridgerton and I’m in shock at the twist. “You’re telling me Penelope is Lady Whistledown?!” I shout at the screen.
She giggles at my reaction. “What a reveal, huh?”
“Yeah, you’re telling me. I never would have guessed that.”
“We can start season two, if you want,” she says. I look down at my phone. It’s only eight, might as well.
“Sure,” I reply enthusiastically, and her face lights up. “I need to know who the next couple is,” I declare, because now I’m fully invested in this chick show. I’m not sure if it’s because I truly like it, or because I get to spend more time with Regan and enjoy it with her.
She cues up the next episode, but doesn’t hit play. “Want more popcorn or another drink?” she asks as she starts to get up, but I stop her.
“Let me get it.” I get up to make popcorn, and I realize I don’t know where anything is. I’m so used to being in Chase or Taylor’s place, where it’s almost like a second home.
She notices my dilemma when she says, “Popcorn is in the pantry to the right of the fridge.” I hear a soft giggle, but ignore it.
Putting the popcorn into the microwave and setting the timer, I can feel her watching my every movement.
I like the fact that she’s checking me out; makes me feel less bad about doing the same to her.
I open the fridge to grab two more waters, and hand her one.
The microwave beeps, and I pour the popcorn into the bowl and sit back down next to her.
I intentionally sit cross-legged with the bowl in my lap, so that she will be forced to sit a bit closer to me to get the popcorn.
One of the oldest tricks in the book, but still a good one.
She doesn’t seem to notice or care about my sly move to have her sit closer, or the fact that she has to reach into my lap for the popcorn.
She just leans in to grab a handful and sits back.
She does it a few times, then she finally scoots a little closer, so she doesn’t have to reach as far.
I reach in for my own handful of popcorn, then I feel her warm hand on top of mine. Okay, maybe this could work after all.
She pulls her hand back, her cheeks heating a bright pink. “Sorry, I didn’t see you reaching for the bowl.” Her cheeks are still bright pink as she eats a few more bites of popcorn.
“It’s fine,” I say with a laugh. Because it is fine. More than fine. I want to feel her skin against mine again. Feel her lips crashing onto mine, nipping at her bottom one when she pulls away. I’ve wanted more ever since I got that first taste, and now it’s all I can think about.
We continue to watch Bridgerton season two, and Kate and Anthony remind me a lot of myself and Regan—minus the heavy breathing at each other.
I notice that Regan has moved even closer to me now.
We are almost touching shoulders. I take a risk and reach for her hand and weave my fingers through hers.
To my surprise, she doesn’t pull away, she doesn’t stop me.
She lets our hands rest together intertwined as my stomach continuously flips inside me.
By the next episode, she’s resting her head on my shoulder, and I can barely keep it together. To top it all off, I’m already hard. Very hard. From hand holding and a shoulder cuddle—great.
She pauses the episode and unwinds herself from me. I’m about to protest when she says, “Restroom,” and pads to the back bedroom.
When she returns, she grabs my hand again, but doesn’t start the show. “Did you not want to watch anymore?” I ask, my voice unexpectedly husky.
“I wanted to try something first.” She looks at me, eyes shining in the light of the TV.
She leans in and kisses me. With my free hand, I take her face and pull her in, deepening the kiss.
There is something about this kiss, something monumental.
I knew the next time we kissed, she would ask to be kissed.
Not just in the moment and not because I started it.
Something is building between us, and I think I want to let it happen.
This kiss is slow, like she’s testing how it really feels for her.
I know how it feels for me; it’s making my heart bang around inside me like a pinball machine, lighting up everything it touches.
“What was that for?” I ask when she pulls away.
“I just wanted to see if a kiss could just be a kiss.”
“And?” She’s starting to overthink things, I can see it on her face, so I continue, “It can be anything you want it to be…or not want it to be.” Her eyes bounce between my lips and eyes. She pulls further away from me, lost in thought, something stopping her.
“What’s going on in your head right now?” I push back a strand of silky blonde hair behind her ear.
“I guess…” She pauses and exhales a breath. “You have been with so many women…I don’t want to be that to you. I’m not the ‘hit it and quit it’ type. I tried that, and I’ve only had one long term boyfriend, and I don’t want to force anything on you or—” I pull her in for another kiss.
“Why’d you do that?”
“To stop you from talking and overthinking things. Sure, I’ve been with my fair share of women, but there is one thing that you are that they aren’t.”
“What’s that?” she asks, titling her head.
“You,” I say, squeezing her hand that’s still in mine.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Don’t sound surprised. Now, can I keep kissing you? We can go as far, or not as far, as you’re comfortable with.”
I trail a hand up her arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Either this is going to be a hot make out session, or it’s going to involve a lot less clothing. I’m good with either option. I just need her to keep touching me, kissing me, letting me explore her as much as she’ll let me.
“You promise?” she asks, still looking unsure. I rear my head back at her uncertainty. It makes me wonder what could have happened to her in the past to make her think I wouldn’t stop when she asked me to.
“I promise, Regan. You say stop, we stop. No questions asked, no explanations needed. I’m not that much of a dick.”
She gives a smile and nods. “Kiss me, Dixon.”
I do, and it’s probably our best kiss yet. I never thought I’d be here, kissing Regan Brady of all people, and yet, here we are. She feels so perfect under my touch that I wonder why we were at odds before. None of that matters now, all that matters is this—us.