Her lips feel so goddamn good on his. But he wants more. His lips press harder, his tongue pushing against her lower lip. She opens her mouth, and her tongue immediately rubs against his. He groans, making a deep rumbling noise in his chest. He tries to push himself closer to her, but he can’t because of his damn tool belt. He pulls away.
“Hang on,” he grunts as he undoes it, dropping it behind him on the concrete floor. The tools hit the cement with a loud, clanging thud.
“Come here,” he says huskily as he grabs her again, putting his lips and his dick back where they were before. Now he can get some friction against her. “Mm,” he hums against her lips.
Wanting more, his hands slip down to softly cup her ass. She gasps slightly against his mouth. Picking her up, Dylan walks backwards as she wraps her legs around his waist. He pushes her up against the dryer and sits her gently on the edge.
His lips leave hers and trail down her neck; he inhales deeply, loving her smell. “You feel so fucking good,” he whispers huskily against her throat. “I can’t…” he mumbles before he bites her neck softly. “Get enough…” he mutters again before his tongue runs along her skin. “Of you,” he whispers before he takes her earlobe into his mouth, sucking it gently, rubbing his tongue over her soft skin.
Dylan sneaks his fingers underneath the edge of her sweatshirt, feeling the soft, warm silky skin of her back. He desperately wants his fingers to make their way up underneath her bra.
“Myra? Dylan? Where the hell are you?” He hears a fucking annoying voice yell.
He yanks his head back and stares into Myra’s startled eyes. “Goddamn it. I forgot about Ray,” he growls in a ragged voice.
* * *
“What are we going to do?” Myra whispers as she pants heavily.
“Damn it. I don’t know,” Dylan says with a scowl as he picks her up off of the dryer and puts her down on the concrete floor. “This is all your fault.” He holds her by the shoulders and glares down at her.
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
With his lip snarled, he looks up and down her body as he releases her shoulders. “Because you’re always looking all sexy and shit. If you weren’t so goddamn beautiful, this shit wouldn’t happen. Maybe I’d be able to control myself around you.”
Myra gasps. She looks down at her blue jeans with the hole in the knee, her green hooded sweatshirt and pink fuzzy socks. A huge grin spreads over her face.
“You think I’m… sexy?” she asks as her heart pounds.
“Yes. Insanely sexy.” His eyes narrow as he continues frowning. “It really fucking pisses me off. You need to do something about it and quit looking so good.”
Reaching up on her tiptoes, she grabs his face in her hands and brings his mouth to hers, kissing him hard and sucking his bottom lip in her mouth. She pulls back and breathes, “Thank you.” She stares deep into his eyes hoping her eyes can express how much his words mean to her.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, breathing heavily. “I didn't mean that as a compliment. I can't control myself around you. Try to make yourself look ugly or some shit, all right?”
She blinks at him, and watches as his lips twitch into a grin. He leans in and kisses her temple before he grabs his tool belt from the floor.
Myra can’t stop smiling, and has to chew on her thumbnail to stifle the girlish giggles that want to escape from her. But a giggle pops out anyway. He looks down at her, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. The fierce look on his face makes her giggle even more. His face softens and the corners of his mouth tilt up. He closes his eyes and shakes his head as he joins her in laughter.
Opening his eyes, he stares at her for a moment before his gaze drops to her mouth. The grin on his face fades. “Jesus,” he groans. “Ray’s gonna know. Your face is all red from my beard.” He reaches his hand up and tenderly touches her skin, causing her to shiver. “Sorry. Does it hurt?” His eyes are soft and gentle as he caresses her.
She shakes her head as she reaches for his hand and gently kisses his palm.
“Jesus,” he mumbles as he stares intensely at her mouth.
She lowers his hand and hangs onto it. “So Ray? He doesn’t know? About us?” she asks.
He shakes his head.
Myra nods and shyly points to his head. “You’re hair. It’s kind of a mess.”
“Oh.” He quickly runs his hands through it trying, unsuccessfully, to get it to lie down.
“I don’t hear him anymore,” he says. “Just let me talk to him, all right?”
Myra nods and follows Dylan up the creaky basement stairs.
* * *
When Dylan steps into Myra’s kitchen, his eyes widen when he sees Ray sitting in a kitchen chair facing the basement stairs with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. As soon as Myra steps up next to him, Ray purses his lips, squints his eyes at her, and abruptly stands, knocking the chair to the floor with a loud bang before he stomps out of the kitchen. Dylan picks up the chair, and turns to Myra. “I’ll take care of him. Don’t come outside.”
“Okay,” she says.
He leans down and places a gentle kiss on her lips before he rubs his thumb tenderly over her cheek. He doesn’t want Myra around if he has to kick Ray’s ass. And he most definitely will kick off in his ass if necessary. With pleasure.
Pausing on the porch, he lights up a cigarette and walks into Myra’s backyard looking for him. He finds him leaning up against the shed, smoking a cigarette.
“You’re fucking her, aren’t you? After all that shit you told me about how you weren’t interested in her, you went behind my back and started fucking her. You could’ve at least had the balls to tell me about it to my face, you dickhead.”
“Look, I’m not – having sex – with her. I…” Dylan frowns, clearing his throat. “I just, I like her, all right? Are you happy, goddamn it? I couldn’t help it. It just happened.
“And why the hell are you mad anyway? She’s made it pretty fucking clear that she’s not interested in you, but you just can’t seem to get it through your thick-as-hell skull.”
Ray snarls at Dylan. “Fuck you.”
“Look, can we put this shit behind us enough to finish the damn roof today?”
Ray doesn’t respond and pushes off the shed, stomping off. Dylan walks to his truck to unload the ladder, telling himself that he only has a few more hours and he can send that jackass packing.
* * *
Myra drops the curtain, relieved that Dylan and Ray didn’t get into a fight. She thought for sure she would see fists flying. And even though Dylan told her to stay in the house, she was prepared to dart out there at any moment.
Her cell rings.
“Hey.”
“Guess what I’m getting ready to do?” Susie asks.
“I have no idea.”
“I’m going to lunch with Lori from HR. Remember her?”
“Of course.”
“Well, she’s going to help me get back at Trent. I got to talking to her this morning and told her about how he went through my purse. She said there wasn’t really any way I could nail him on it because we didn’t have it on video, and he technically didn’t take anything. But she hates Trent and feels so guilty that she gave him your phone number. So she’s going to help me get back at that asswipe. I’ve got a list of ideas that I’m going to run by her today.”
“What ideas?”
“I was thinking of fire ants; the ones that sting. I could let them loose in his office and lock him in there. Or put a snake in his desk drawer – a big one of course and, possibly – I mean probably – venomous. I’d have anti-venom serum on-hand; I’m not that inhumane. But not for Trent, of course. Just in case someone else gets bit by accident.”
“Susie.”
“Hush. I’m not done. I’ve also been thinking I could maybe sneak a ghost pepper or two in his coffee. I saw a show on TV the other day about how they can cause blistering of the mouth and throat. Imagine how he’d feel shitting that out? Th
at would be freaking awesome. Asshole blisters and hemorrhoids. My list goes on and on. So I’m going to run my ideas by her and see what we can come up with.”
“You can’t do that. You’ll get fired or sent to jail.”
“Eh. Probably, but, by God, it’d be worth it,” she says with a sigh. “Oh, I gotta go. She’s here. Bye.”
Myra shakes her head as she mumbles a goodbye and closes her phone.
* * *
Dylan pulls in a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he stares down at Myra’s new roof. Somehow, he and Ray got the damn thing finished without him having to kick off in his ass.
He climbs down the ladder and sits down in his truck, pulling out his business checks. He calculates Ray’s pay and writes him out a check.
“Here,” he says gruffly as he hands it to him.
Ray snatches it from him with a glare before stomping off to his truck.
Dylan sighs as he watches Ray back out of the driveway. It’ll be hard as hell finding another guy in this small town to replace him.
He stretches his back as he walks up to Myra’s porch. She smiles when she opens the door. “The roof’s done,” he says.
“Great.”
He nods. “Ray won’t be back.”
“Good,” she says, smiling.
“I can’t really do any more work until we get the shit we ordered for the kitchen and the bathrooms. I checked on it, and they’re still a couple of weeks out on delivery. So I’m going to take a few days off. I have to go to Boise anyway. For a family thing.”
Myra’s expression falls. “Oh. When?”
“In the morning.”
She hums, nodding, her gaze dropping to the porch. “Are you hungry? Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asks.
“I’d love to, but I have a six o’clock appointment. And I need to run home and take a shower.” She nods, staring down at the porch. He takes a step closer. “But I could be back around seven-thirty or eight? Is that too late?”
She looks up at him, her face lighting up. “No. That would be perfect.”
“Okay,” he says, smiling. “Well, I’ll be back. Soon.”
“Great.”
“Okay. Great. Uh, I’ll see ya soon. Shit. I just said that, didn’t I? Damn it. I’ll just say… bye.” He scrubs a hand through his hair feeling like a stupid ass and hating that he can feel his face getting hot.
Myra giggles softly.
Dylan sighs as he climbs into his truck feeling like a fucking idiot as he drives to Elaina’s to get his back adjusted.
* * *
As soon as Dylan leaves her driveway, Myra makes a plan of action. She wants to make something special for him. After a look through her pantry, she groans when she discovers she’s going to have to go to the grocery store. She’s been putting it off, but she knows she can’t hide from Derek forever.
But first, she needs to call Jackie. She pulls out her phone and dials her number.
“You called me,” Jackie shrieks. “I think this is the first time. This is so great. I was just thinking about you. Have you had supper? I was thinking that I could stop on my way home and pick us up something to eat. What are you in the mood for? Chinese? Sandwiches? Burgers? I’m starving. I got so busy today with the bookstore and all that I didn’t even get a chance to eat lunch. It’s really weird that you can just forget to eat and then not think about it until way later when your stomach starts growling really loud,” she says with a giggle.
Myra sighs. Jackie drives her crazy, but she has a good heart. “Well, I hate this, but I was just calling to tell you that I can’t get together with you tonight. Dylan’s coming over.”
“Is it a date?”
“No. Not really.”
“What are you going to wear? You should wear something sexy, but not too sexy. I have a knack for clothes. I’ll have to go through yours sometime and see what all you have. I’ve only seen you in jeans. I hope you have more to wear than that. Maybe we could go shopping together some time, and I could help you pick out some new things. That would be so much fun. We definitely have to do that and…”
“Okay, okay,” Myra interrupts loudly. “Look, I have to go. Maybe we can talk tomorrow, all right?”
“Sure. Have fun. I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”
After they say their goodbyes, Myra slams her phone shut. She can’t believe how many words came out of that woman’s mouth in such a short amount of time.
Grabbing her purse, she heads for Marshall’s. She keeps a constant eye out for Derek, but he doesn’t seem to be working. She breathes a sigh of relief when she doesn’t see Lucia either.
She frowns when she turns down her street and sees a black car in the middle of the road with the brakes on. It seems to be stopped in front of her house. As she approaches, it quickly tears off down the road before she can get a good look at it. Her heart pounds as she wonders if it was Trent. But it couldn’t be him because he has to be back in Philly by now. It could be Jackie because Myra has no idea what kind of car she drives.
After she gets inside, locks all the doors and puts her groceries away, she calls Susie.
“Hey.”
“Dylan’s coming over for dinner,” Myra says immediately.
“No shit? Are you going to feed him and then power up his drill?” Susie asks with a giggle.
“No. He’s leaving tomorrow for a few days so I wanted to spend some time with him before he goes.”
“Ah, that’s sweet.”
“Have you seen Trent around the office?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Myra’s brows furrow. “Nothing.”
“I have to tell you about my meeting with Lori. That woman made me shred my Traumatize Trent list. I had some awesomely nasty things on there, too, because you know how completely devious my mind is. But when she mentioned jail time like you did, I tossed it. Anyway, I’m back to the damn drawing board. I’m going to have to come up with some lame shit to get him back with. But I’ll make it some seriously twisted lame shit. It’s just going to take some time to come up with a new plan of attack.”
“You need to just forget about what happened and move on.”
“Move on? Are you kidding me? That prick went through my damn purse. My private shit. My very personal private shit. Do you know what all I had in that thing? I had my new book in there that I bought to replace the boogered one. Plus, I had several magazines with Desmond on the cover. I had my stash of candy in case my blood sugar drops, and my tampons, pads, and I always keep a spare pair of underwear in there for emergencies. I hate that he saw all of that. It pisses me off.”
“You’re right. He did invade your privacy. Exactly how big is this purse of yours?” Myra asks, grinning.
“It’s not a purse, it’s a bag. And yes, it’s humongous. I got it at a yard sale. It takes up my whole bottom drawer, but I don’t care. I love that I can cram all kinds of shit in it. I could haul around my kitchen sink in there if I wanted to,” she adds with a giggle. “Ugh, I gotta go. I can’t wait to hear how your date went. Have fun.”
* * *
Dylan gets out of the shower and dries himself off. He wipes the steam off the mirror with his towel. He groans when he sees his messy hair. Leaning down, he opens the door beneath the sink, looking for some gel. He finds an old bottle that has a layer of dust on it. He puts some in his hair, trying to get that shit under control.
He runs an electric razor over his stubble to shorten it. But when he runs his hand over his face and remembers Myra’s red skin from this morning, he decides to shave it off. After a close shave, he rubs his hand over his chin again and grins. It makes him feel pretty damn good about himself. He can’t remember the last time he shaved. It’s been forever since he’s given a rat’s ass about how he looks.
Opening the medicine cabinet, he looks for some cologne. Finding an old bottle he hasn’t used in years, he opens it and takes a sniff. “Shit,” he yells, feeling like he just burned his nostrils. He dumps
it down the sink and tosses the bottle. He’ll just have to smell like good old fucking bar soap.
To get into his bedroom, he has to kick clothes and shit out of his way. Opening his closet, he chuckles as there are only two shirts hanging there. The rest are either piled on top of his dresser, under his bed, or hiding somewhere in the mounds of shit on his floor.
He grabs one of the shirts hanging up – a simple black T – and throws it on and finds a pair of jeans underneath a pile of clothes in the corner. It takes him about five minutes to find a pair of clean boxers, which royally pisses him off.
Catching his reflection in the mirror, he pauses for a minute, staring, and finding it damn amusing that he’s going to so much trouble for a woman. He used to go to this much trouble for Sabrina. He can’t believe how much he’s changed, both inside and out. If she could see him now, she probably wouldn’t even recognize him anymore.
As he grabs his phone and keys, he feels a strange excitement about getting to see Myra again even though he just saw her a couple of hours ago. That just confirms in his mind his pussy status and that he should be wearing a damn dress to her house instead of jeans.
* * *
When Myra hears a soft knock at the door, her heart begins to race. Peeping through the window, her breath catches in her throat when she sees the back of Dylan’s head. Closing her eyes and taking in a slow breath, she opens the door. Her mouth drops open as she stares at his clean-shaven face. She’s never in her life seen a more beautiful man.
His eyes slowly move over her body. “You look…” he says before shaking his head. “Damn.”
She clears her throat and smiles shyly. “Thanks. So do you.”
He gives her a crooked grin before he steps inside.
“Jesus, it smells good in here,” he says as he shrugs out of his coat. “What is that?”
Myra smiles as she takes his coat. “Steak Florentine with Mushroom Risotto. I hope you like it.”
He chuckles. “I have no idea what the hell that is, but it smells fucking delicious,” he says with a grin as Myra laughs as they walk into the kitchen.
“Just have a seat. Everything’s ready.”
Color of Loneliness Page 27
