by Zoey Derrick
I lead her down the hallway and I hear her pull in a deep breath. “Smells wonderful.” She beams at me.
“Oh no, this is Kathy’s cooking,” I chuckle. “Though I can cook, she made this one tonight.”
She laughs, “I would have been really disappointed if you’d been home long enough to make lasagna and you didn’t wake me up to watch.”
“Well, then I guess I’ll have to make it for you sometime,” I tell her, planting a seed of hope, just to see how she handles it.
She looks up at me with excitement in her eyes. “I’d like that very much.”
I squeeze her hand and lead her into the kitchen and put her on a bar stool to watch.
I take my vest off, followed by the tie and I roll up my sleeves, getting comfortable. She watches me with rapt attention. I give her a wink and she blushes because I caught her watching me. “Don’t you want to change out of that?” Her voice holds a small hint of humor in it, but I immediately understand what she’s picturing. Spaghetti sauce and an expensive suit.
“I will before we sit down.”
She nods and I turn the timer off on the oven. It did its automatic thing of switching to a keep warm setting so I pull the bread out first, then the salad. “Do you like wine?” I ask her.
“White. I don’t like reds.”
“Do you want to pick one out?”
She winkles up her nose and shakes her head. “I haven’t a clue about wine,” she says as I pull the salad from the fridge and place it between us. I reach my hand out to her. She hesitates only for a moment, trying to figure out what I’m doing, but she takes my hand and climbs off the stool. “Where are we going?” she asks.
I open a door leading to a controlled temperature room and my wine cellar. I hold the door open for her and show her inside.
Chapter 33
Ireland
“18th Floor Balcony” - Blue October
I could listen to Dyson talk about wine all damn day. The man has a knack for it, which seems a bit odd. I’d pictured him more as a beer or bourbon drinker. Though I did notice several bottles of alcohol, he kept my attention on the wine.
He took the time to ask me what kind I liked and I told him. He smiled and knew right where to go when he was done with his little lesson. I took note of the fact there were at least two hundred bottles. Not all wine, there was definitely some champagne and hard alcohol, but it was all arranged by type and year. The bottle he chose has some dust on it, so I can tell he’s had it for a while. He wipes the bottle clean and leads me back to the kitchen. He pops the cork and sets the bottle on the counter while he goes about setting our places in the kitchen. I like sitting here, reminds me of last night, though I was there and he was here, but still.
When he’d taken his vest off, undid his tie and rolled up his sleeves, I didn’t think I was gonna be able to keep my hands to myself. The desire burning through me has me desperate to kiss him again.
The man is truly sex on legs.
The expression brings me back to the day I’d decided to move on with my life. No matter how many times I’d repeated the mantra over and over again, I don’t think I ever truly believed it. I wanted to, I convinced myself I didn’t want him anymore, but the truth was I never stopped wanting him.
Sure, I dated in college, but I avoided high school dating altogether, I wasn’t ready for that. I’d always held out hope Dyson would return to me in Joplin as soon as he could. Though he never said he would, I wanted that hope.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask as I watch him pull the lasagna from the oven.
“Anything, always,” he says, but I guess my expression has him a little uneasy.
“Why, after you graduated, did you not come back to Joplin?”
He sets the pan down on the rack he’d set out, but he doesn’t answer me right away. He just stares at me for a moment. “How shall I put this?”
“The truth,” I tell him.
He gives me a small smile. “Always the truth, Ireland. Just not sure how to explain it.”
“Try?” I ask, but it comes out more of a whisper, like I’m begging.
“I didn’t know how.” Our eyes lock. “I didn’t know what to say if I did come back. I mean, sure, Dusty and I were still friends at that point, but…” He pauses and breaks our eye contact to grab something from the fridge and he comes back with a bowl of something and some dressing for the salads.
Seeming to be satisfied with everything, he reaches for the bottle of wine and grabs the glasses he’d set out. He pours a little into my glass and hands it to me. “You ever taste tested wine before?”
I nod and smile at him, despite the fact he’s dodging my question.
I bring the glass toward me and I swirl it around. He’s watching me intently as I watch the glass, then I bring it to my nose for a whiff and it smells sweet, which is how I like my wine. Then I taste it. It’s like fireworks in my mouth and I hold it there for a moment before swallowing. “Wow,” I breathe.
His eyes darken. The sparks start flying between us, the desire I’m feeling explodes and I squirm in my seat. Realizing the effect he’s having on me, he looks away and I smile on the inside knowing he’s equally as affected as I am.
“Back to your question,” he says after a beat and I can’t help but truly smile at the fact he doesn’t actually dodge the question. “There were a few reasons. Dusty was one. We’d started to grow apart. I didn’t know what he’d think of me being back in town.” He fills my glass, then his before continuing. “The other was the fact I’d changed a lot after leaving Joplin. I went from being the most popular kid in school to being a nobody and I didn’t take to that very well. Though for my senior year, I managed to make the varsity team, but I was no longer a starter. It gave me a little credit in school, but not that much.” He sits down next to me but he doesn’t take his eyes off me and I like that he’s looking at me while he talks. We just won’t talk about what his looking at me is doing to my body. “I was depressed, if you want the truth of it.”
“Always the truth, Dyson.”
He gives me a sexy little smirk. “I love it when you say my name.”
“Dyson,” I lean toward him, “Dyson,” a little closer, “Dyson,” I breathe and his lips claim mine again. His kiss is passionate, full of longing and I shiver as need explodes. “Let’s forget dinner,” I grumble as he pulls away again.
“Eat, you’re going to need the energy,” he teases.
“Oh really, and why is that, Mr. Cole?”
He gives me the most salacious look that nearly knocks me off the stool I’m sitting on. He knows exactly what he’s done when he gives me one of his panty-melting smiles. “Keep that up, Ms. McKidd, and you won’t eat for the rest of the weekend.” His voice is strong, determined, with a tiny hint of humor and I gape at him.
He chuckles but hands me the bread basket and I pull a slice from it. He takes one of his own and I am met with a sense of normalcy I never expected to feel. Sitting here, with him, about to enjoy an unhurried meal feels right. It feels normal.
I pull a hunk off the bread as he hands me the salad bowl, but I shake my head. “This smells too delicious. I’d hate to fill up on salad, since I’m going to need my energy and all.” I wink at him and put down the bread but slide the small piece into my mouth.
I feel his mood shift right back to sparks igniting again and I have no idea how we’re going to make it through this meal without tearing each other’s clothes off. I try to ignore him and take a sip of the wine. The taste is divine and a compliment to the garlic bread I’ve eaten.
He breaks his gaze and follows suit, starting with his salad. I smile. Looking at his body I could have guessed he’d fill up on that over the carb heavy meal in front of him. He surprises me when he returns back to my question. “I was depressed, but I… god, this is going to sound so stupid…”
“It’s okay, please, just tell me.”
“I was afraid I’d lost my charm.”
I squint at him. “What do you mean?”
“I was afraid I was no longer the person I was when we’d…” he clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, “I’d changed, and I know you’d changed and…” he pauses again, staring at his food, “I was afraid I’d find you with someone else.”
I blink at him. I don’t know what to say to that.
“Dusty never said anything, but then Dusty never talked to me about you. But that was my fault too.”
“How so?” I ask him.
He snorts humorlessly. “I’d told Dusty I didn’t want to talk about you. I didn’t want to hear it.”
I shake my head and fight the inevitable eye roll I feel coming on.
“I was eighteen, VeeVee; please don’t hold that against me.”
I look at him, square in the eye. “I was still in love with you, I couldn’t even think about dating anyone else. There was…” I stop myself. I don’t want to tell him this part.
“There was what, Ireland?”
I sigh and set my fork down. I pick up my napkin and I wring it a little, needing to focus on something. My leg starts to bounce. He reaches over and stops it. His touch is gentle and warm and the butterflies flutter around again in my belly. “After you left, people hated you. When the team didn’t make it past the first round of the state tournament, they blamed you for leaving. Instead of being someone they would have cheered, they smeared your name everywhere. Dusty did what he could to try and change their minds, but I often wondered if he started to blame you too.”
“He never said anything,” he says, the shock evident.
“I would imagine not. They wanted someone to blame and you weren’t there so they chose to pick on you. Which is why I was afraid to date anyone at school.” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. “God, this is so stupid,” I mutter, looking at my hands. “I didn’t want to have to tell anyone what we did. I was…well, I wasn’t a virgin anymore and guys always seemed to ask that question. I never understood why, but they did and I knew the inevitable follow-up question would be, ‘who have you slept with’ and I wasn’t socially smart enough to make-up someone.”
“Were you embarrassed?”
“Yes, no, I don’t know. Dyson, they made it sound like you were the biggest prick to walk the halls of JPH. I was a sophomore, I… it was stupid.” I take a deep breath, I’m fighting tears of embarrassment and I try to smooth things over a little by telling him what came next. “After homecoming that year, I realized they were just bitter. I understood the disdain they all seemed to feel for you was superficial and because the football team sucked. You were an easy excuse. I quickly learned it didn’t matter to me what they thought of you. I didn’t regret what happened that night, well, up until you…” My voice trails off. I don’t need to remind him of what he said to me that night.
His hand comes to my cheek, and I lean into his touch. It calms me in a way I know I’ll never understand.
“I was sixteen,” I breathe as if that explains everything.
“So was that the only reason you didn’t…” He doesn’t finish the question, he doesn’t have to.
“I tried, like, really tried. But I waited until I got to ASU and found my footing there. I made new friends, went to parties, that kind of stuff. I’d made a pact with myself after graduation and for the first couple of years, it worked.”
“What was the pact?” he asks, releasing me and we both turn to our food. I suddenly feel very full and I realize I’ve eaten nearly all of my dinner. Huh?
“I let you go,” I admit.
He stops breathing, doesn’t say anything, and when I can’t stand the silence between us any longer I break it. “I was leaving, starting fresh. It was two years since you graduated, almost as long since Dusty had heard from you. I… I stood in front of your house and promised I wasn’t going to think about you anymore.”
“Huh, how’d that work out for you?”
“I’m still single, aren’t I?”
“Touché.” He smiles at me. “You said you tried?”
“I did. I dated a few guys, mostly toward the end of my sophomore year in college and through my junior year. I was determined to find someone who could make me feel at least half as good as you did. But it never happened. I never made it past first base with most of them. Then they’d dump me because I wouldn’t put out or whatever.” I pause needing a second to collect my thoughts. “I saw someone, on campus, toward the end of my junior year that reminded me of you. Well, you when you were seventeen. I had no idea what I was looking for in an adult version.”
I rake my eyes up and down his body, taking in as much as I can through his suit pants and shirt. He smirks knowingly at me.
I sigh. “When I saw him, all I could do was think about you, think about the fact I’d missed my chance to find you. Or that maybe I’d run into the guy again because I really did believe it was you. But when I did find him on campus again, he wasn’t anything like you.” I crinkle my nose. “I’m pretty sure he was gay.”
Dyson chuckles. “That, Ms. McKidd, I most definitely am not.”
“I know. Reese is totally gay though.”
“You became friends?”
“Yup, he’s the reason I got the interview at Wellington.”
He leans over to me then kisses my temple before standing up and grabbing our plates. “Remind me to thank Reese someday.”
“What for?” I ask in mock horror.
“Two things, one, for being gay and for not being like me, and two, for getting you that interview.”
I smile wide at the idea of introducing Dyson to Reese, though I don’t picture them being fast friends, I think they would both like each other. “I like the sound of that,” he says suddenly. “But what are you laughing about?”
“Oh, I didn’t realize…I was thinking about you and Reese meeting. I hope you’re not put off by forward men.”
He laughs at that one. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll make sure to have you wrapped around me so he knows to back off.”
I can’t help but laugh at both the visual and then the idea of him meeting Reese and doing what he can to throw Reese off any idea he may get in his head about Dyson being available.
Chapter 34
DYSON
“Pillow Talk” - Zayn
“So now you’re happy I’m going to be working downstairs from you?” she asks me and I knew she would ask that question again. We’ve already discussed it before, but I get the impression she’s seeking approval from me.
“I am.” I give her a playful smile. “My reasons, originally, were very selfish, but my reasons now,” I laugh, “are still selfish.”
She gives me a quizzical look. “Why, because you can keep me close?”
I put my hands up in surrender. “Guilty as charged, Ms. McKidd.” She shakes her head in annoyance with me. “Do you not want to be that close?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. Anxiety slices through me as I wait for her answer. This could go either way and I am afraid it will not go the way I want it to.
She looks at me, confusion and a little bit of fear in her eyes, and I lower my hands. “What are we doing here, Dyson?”
I pull in a breath and it feels like it takes years to fill up my lungs. I close my eyes, my brain cycling through different answers to this question, a million dollar one at that. This answer will either bring her into my arms or send her packing. Either way, I need her to decide for herself and not for any reason other than that. “Honestly, Ireland, I don’t know.” Fear takes over her features and I continue quickly, “But only because I don’t have a crystal ball.” She relaxes a little bit, but there’s still tension in her shoulders. “I’m not who I was ten years ago, you’re not the same as you were then either. I know somewhere in that pretty little head of yours you’re worried I am.” She doesn’t nod or acknowledge my statement, which means I’ve hit the nail on the head. “What I do know is I am determined to prove that to you, no matte
r what the cost.”
“Buying me clothes and toys isn’t exactly the way to do that, Dyson.”
My lips twitch with a smile. My feisty, little tiger is coming out to play. “I told you, if it was in my power to fix it, I would.”
“The iPad and expensive headphones, the pencil, that wasn’t part of fixing the problem.”
Now my lips pull into a full on smile. “No, it wasn’t. That was me doing something nice for you.” I step closer to her. She doesn’t flinch or try to move away, her eyes lock onto mine. “That was my way of making up for missed birthdays, something to make you smile. Something to remind you of me.” By the time I’m done with my little speech, I’m standing directly in front of her and she wraps her arms around me. I sag in relief. The iPad was overkill, but my words speak truth because that’s what I was thinking when I stood in front of them at the store.
I’d seen her phone and the deplorable looking laptop sitting on her desk in her room and I thought she could use something nice, especially considering the new job she was getting ready to start.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her to me for a moment before I reach for her chin and lift her eyes to mine. They’re full of emotion, a small pool of unshed tears in the corners, ready to spill over. “You deserved something nice and I could give that to you.” I give her a reassuring smile.
“Kiss me,” she whispers.
“Say my name.”
The tears in her eyes disappear down her cheeks when she lights up. “Hmm, I seem to have forgotten. Maybe I need a reminder?” she teases.
I raise an eyebrow at her before bending down and bringing our lips only a hair’s breadth away from each other. “Say,” I brush my lips feather light against hers, “my,” I breathe, and then I lick along her bottom lip with the tip of my tongue. She shudders beneath me and her eyes narrow as the desire ignites in her veins. Her breathing hitches. “Name,” I finish.
