A Perfect Fit

by Zoe Lee

  His eyes crinkled when he smiled this time, and Daisy realized that she’d catalogued about twenty entirely different smiles he had, so far. How could one person be so happy so much of the time, and so free, so open?

  “To apologize for explaining myself so poorly at the bookstore,” he corrected. “I’m not apologizing for the wedding, not ever, Daisy.”

  Her belly clenched in an unnerving mix of lust and trepidation. He’d been so lighthearted, so happy, all night. It wasn’t fair to say something so serious, almost like a promise, when they were holding hands and hadn’t said one serious thing to each other all night. It wasn’t fair to suddenly feel like she was on a real date, not just some apology dinner with a sexy man.

  Taking a second, she moved her fingers a fraction within his hold.

  Easy as breathing, he moved his fingers a fraction too to accommodate her.

  “What do you want to know about me, exactly?”

  “Well now, since ham is one of my top three favorite meats, and you hate it, but I haven’t run away screaming, you can tell me anything and I won’t be freaked out,” he told her.

  How could he make me laugh and roll my eyes at his absurdity, but also feel incredibly comforted and reassured by it at the same time?

  “Okay,” she said. “Summary of my life. I have two parents and three older brothers. My oldest brother Connor lives in Kentucky, my middle brother Levi married Cora Herrera, and my third brother Shane’s favorite thing is fishing. Like, he actually loves fishing. I was a potter until recently, selling my stuff at art fairs and Cora’s gallery. But now I’m the admin at the law office my dad, Levi, and Shane have in town.”

  She stopped talking and drank some of her wine, wondering what she should say about the only other noteworthy thing in her life, which had been her marriage to Tyler. Deciding that it was silly to ignore it, because everyone knew about it and they’d talked about it, briefly, at the wedding, she finished, “And I was married to Tyler, but—as you probably figured out from Jamie and Leda’s wedding—the Houstons are still family to me. Divorce can’t take them away from me. So yeah. That’s me.”

  He surveyed her for a beat past what she was comfortable with, and then broke eye contact to drink some more of his beer. “That’s a nice life.”

  “It’s a work in progress,” she replied carefully.

  There was no reason to complain, not really. She had everything she needed, if not all of the things she wanted. While she would be in trouble financially if something catastrophic happened, she also had a family that would be her safety net if she asked. There was no reason to whine about how she’d loved being a potter, or whine about how much it broke her heart that she hadn’t been good enough to sustain it as a career.

  “I have some of your mugs and bowls in my apartment,” he told her. “The mugs are blue with these splatters of silver that make it feel like stucco, and the bowls say Refill me on the bottoms on the inside. I love them.”

  She smiled, trying not to let it be bittersweet. “Thank you.”

  “Do you like working for your dad? With Shane and Levi?”

  “It’s easy,” she said. “I—”

  “I have the cheese and charcuterie plate,” the server announced, deftly retrieving their empty bread plates and scooting Dunk’s beer glass over to have space to put down the appetizer. “Would you like to order entrees?”

  They ordered their steaks, then divided up the cheese and meat. Dunk piled his choices on a roll and took a giant bite. He hummed at the taste and licked a flake of buttery roll off the corner of his mouth. Daisy repressed a shudder, flashing back to the way that had felt again her skin, the way the tip of his tongue had flicked against the rim of her entrance.

  She took daintier bites, a little piece of cheese with a slice of meat.

  “So you were going to tell me how you like your job?” Dunk asked.

  “There’s not much to say other than that it’s pretty easy,” she said honestly. “I mostly buy coffee and donuts, forward emails from the general firm email to everyone else, and do some accounting stuff.”

  “Do you hear lots of secret stuff about people?” he asked.

  Daisy laughed and shook her head. “Even if I did, I’m not telling you about it. You probably hear enough gossip to last a lifetime as it is, being best friends with the Riveaus and working at MHS,” she replied.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Leda likes to keep up on everyone, not to butt in but really more because there’s so many good stories. But Aden’s never been gossipy and Seth’s above it, or he doesn’t care about it, not sure.”

  “And I’ve been a… topic of Maybelle gossip,” Daisy pointed out, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but she wasn’t really a fan of gossip.

  Dunk immediately set down his food and took her hand again. “I’m sorry, that was a dumb thing of me to say. I remember when…”

  When Tyler walked out on you. When he ran away to New York before you were even divorced. When the whole town went out of their way to tell you how sorry they were, how sad you must be, how they were on ‘your side’. When everyone thought they knew what happened, when they had no idea why we split up or that it was my decision to ask him to leave, not him walking out on me.

  Frustrated with herself for saying anything and making the mood heavy instead of silly and fun, Daisy sighed and drank the rest of her wine.

  “It’s fine. Tyler and I split four years ago. But sometimes it stinks because people still treat me like it was yesterday, as if I’m still hurting.”

  Dunk’s brows furrowed a little bit, making a sweet, confounded dent over the bridge of his nose. “Well, they’re idiots,” he claimed.

  That blind support made Daisy snicker. “Yeah?”

  “Are you limping around, wearing all black like a widow?” he argued in her defense, waving his hands at her. “Are you crying every day at lunch? Are you staying home every night pining over Ty? I don’t think so. And you’ve been dating, right? So where do they get that idea?”

  Helplessly, Daisy shrugged. “People get stuck. They get this idea of you in their heads and they never notice when you’re not that person anymore. I mean, every year during all of the college football bowl games, Levi still talks about how he bet on the game you played in. That was more than ten years ago, wasn’t it?”

  Dunk sat back. “Nine years ago, but who’s counting?”

  Covering up her smile with one hand over her mouth, she teased, “You are, apparently. Sorry I made you a couple years older than you are.”

  “If I’m two or three years older than I think I am, then you owe me two or three birthday cakes, Daisy Rhys,” he declared. “I’m ordering cupcakes for dessert and I’m going to have them put candles in them, and you’re going to sing.”

  “What? No way!” Daisy laughed.

  Dunk pouted. “Yes, that’s it. If I’m thirty-two or thirty-three, I deserve cupcakes with candles for turning thirty-one, thirty-two, and thirty-three.”

  “Well, then I deserve a cupcake for every year I’ve been happily divorced,” Daisy countered, relieved that they were getting into the spirit of the banter again. “That’s four cupcakes, or it’ll be four in two months.”

  “Four? Where are you going to put four cupcakes?” he wanted to know, squinting one eye to size her up. “You’ll puke after two, tops.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “If you can eat four cupcakes—including all of the frosting—then I’ll take you out on another date.” He sort of stumbled across the word date, then scrambled awkwardly, “Or, well, it can be a first date—I’m not sure if you’re counting this as a date, since it was an apology steak dinner.”

  “What if I throw up? You’ll be grossed out, you’ll never want to see me again. I’ll walk by and you’ll think, Icky, there goes that sad divorcée who can’t hold her cupcakes,” Daisy said, only partially joking. Throwing up wasn’t a pretty sight, whether it was cupcakes or too much tequila.

  Eyes gleaming, Dun
k shook his head slowly. “Nuh uh. Not a chance.”

  “Hmm.” She pretended to think it through. “Say I can’t eat four measly cupcakes. Then what? We never go on another date? That’s no fair.”

  “Huh. I didn’t think this through.”

  Daisy laughed and cupped her chin in her hand, her elbow on the table even though it was rude. Dunk McCoy was ridiculous, and she had enjoyed every minute of this date so far, something that had never happened before. Even with Tyler, their dates had been wonderful, but she’d been almost crippled by her shyness and the heart-pounding wonder of going out with the boy she’d crushed on before she grew up and he noticed her back. After her divorce, her dates had always felt stilted and unnatural, as if everyone was trying to follow a poorly written script.

  “How about I bring you four cupcakes on your next birthday, three for the extra birthdays I gave you and one for your actual birthday?” she suggested with a smile. “And then you can bring me four cupcakes on the anniversary of my divorce in March?”

  “Excellent idea!” Dunk cried without any visible hesitation.

  Then he asked what her favorite flavor of cupcake was, and they were off again, bantering and laughing until their entrees arrived.

  Daisy barely tasted her apology steak, she was having so much fun. What part of her brain wasn’t engaged in having fun with Dunk, was stuck on looking at him. He was just so handsome in this way that was almost secondary to the amazing energy he had and the sunbursts of his twenty-and-counting different smiles for all occasions.

  Eventually they finished their steaks and the conversation got a little lazier, since they were so full and happy, and Daisy was glad she’d thought of a fun way to put off the cupcake challenge. She loved dessert, but she could admit that she didn’t have room for cupcakes at all.

  As if he’d heard her thoughts on cupcakes and agreed, Dunk leaned back in his chair and groaned, rubbing his perfectly flat stomach. “So, is my apology accepted? Wait, think carefully before you answer, because I have a very big stake in your answer!” he exclaimed, cracking himself up.

  Daisy’s chest shook with suppressed laughter as she rolled her eyes.

  “I’m taking that eye roll as a yes,” he warned her, “unless you say no.”

  A smile crept onto her mouth. “I’d say it’s been a slam dunk.”

  His lips parted in and then he crowed in triumph, pumping his fist in the air like his favorite team had just made the game-winning touchdown.

  Other people turned to glare, until they saw that it was just Dunk, then they smiled and shook their heads a little, returning to their meals.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” the server said with a slightly disapproving look at Dunk, as he set the check down.

  “I don’t think he likes me very much,” Dunk stage-whispered as he took out his wallet and slid some cash in before folding it closed again.

  “He probably thinks this is a super sophisticated adult restaurant and you’re dragging down the atmosphere with your yelling,” she said dryly.

  “You’re more than balancing me out with your classy outfit,” he complimented her as he stood up, stretching his elbows back and opening up his chest.

  Exhaling roughly in pleasure after sitting for so long, and held out a hand. Daisy took it, and then twisted to pick up her coat and purse in one hand, not wanting to let go of his hand to put them on.

  When they got to Dunk’s truck, he opened the passenger door with his free hand and stood there, almost a foot taller than her, the backs of her calves against the running board. The old-fashioned lampposts around the Square made the light brown of his eyes glow like Daisy’s favorite dessert, crème brûlée.

  His lips quirked and he leaned in to brush his nose along her braid crown, behind her ear. “You smell like summer,” he murmured, then eased her up onto the seat. He swept his hands over the outside of her right knee and gently pushed her legs in so she was ready to buckle her seat belt.

  Her body was melting around her bones, sluggish and warm to the touch, and she began to reach out to catch him, to draw him in close.

  But he smiled again, this one a barely-there ghost of a smile, and eased the door shut, leaving her wanting more, wanting to bring him home with her.

  He drove them back towards her apartment building in silence, the radio off, and she couldn’t help it, she brushed her fingertips over the back of his hand across the gear shift. She followed the veins up around the strong bones of his wrist, up over the ticklish blond hair on his forearm until she bumped into the sleeve of his pushed-up shirt, then back down again. He let her, a hum of simple enjoyment she felt more than heard, and glided the truck to a stop at her curb.

  His arm rolled over so he could cradle her hand in his, and he nibbled the muscle at the base of her thumb, eyes twinkling and warm.

  Releasing her hand carefully into her lap, he got out of the truck, helped her down one last time, and walked her all the way to her door.

  Daisy licked her lips and parted them to ask him to come inside as she unlocked the door.

  But he forestalled her question by bending down to kiss her cheek, step back, and put his hands in his back pockets, torso flexing sleekly.

  “I had a really great night, Daisy Rhys,” he told her, so sincere it ached.

  “I did too, Dunk,” she answered. “Do you…”

  He shook his head and looked away, sending a bolt of self-doubt through Daisy, because she hadn’t expected him to turn her down.

  “Um, I’ll just head in then,” she said hesitantly.

  His hands gently caught her hips just as she began to turn to push open her door. He came in close one more time, kissing the corner of her mouth this time, the stubble along his chin just catching on her soft skin.

  “Tugger,” Dunk murmured against her temple, his dog’s name incongruous when said in that throbbing way. “My parents are at my sister’s in Richmond, so I need to get home to Tugger.” He sighed and brushed his lips over hers one last time. “Good night, darlin’.”

  “G-good night,” she called after him, a little too loud.

  He turned the corner and she slumped against the door, breathless.

  After a minute, she found the strength to go inside, change into pajamas, and settle onto her futon. Her body was still aching and warm, still breathless and almost shocked by how fun and sweet and silly the date had been. There was a base part of her that wanted to call him right now, to demand that he come back and satisfy her ache.

  But she didn’t want to ruin this moment. So she turned on her television and curled up with her extra pillow, Lempicka stalking and trying to pounce on some unsuspecting moth caught in the apartment.

  Her thoughts drifted, her skin still humming, until she slept.

  Chapter 7

  Dunk

  Dunk followed Daisy down the annoyingly shallow steps at the movie theater, mesmerized by the tick-tock sway of her ass under her long-sleeved leaf-patterned dress, the little white belt cinched around her tiny waist for some reason just as sexy as thigh-highs on a lingerie model. His right side still sizzled from where she’d snuggled up into it during the movie, his right palm buzzing from where it had cupped her shoulder. He was practically dizzy from two and a half hours of her perfume wafting off her curls, which were loose for the first time on one of their dates.

  Their dates.

  This was their sixth date, and it had been just as fun, just as flirtatious, and just as nerve-wracking as the first five. He’d never really dated all that much, and it had been taking every cell in his brain to not make another mistake as dumb as telling Daisy that she was his sex Cinderella.

  Tonight was the first night that her beauty, her sexiness, her scent, her everything, had nearly overwhelmed what little common sense he had.

  He grinned as she caught his eye, taking her hand and swinging it.

  Every ounce of willpower had been spent keeping it light, keeping it gliding along at its natural pace. He hadn’t dated tha
t much, but he had two sisters and a ton of women in his life. He had spent his whole life listening to women complain about the cavemen who’d taken them out on dates and tried to put the moves on them left and right, or outright expected sex. No way would he want to be in a category with those dicks.

  Even if his dick was perpetually half-hard these days.

  He hadn’t thought that was possible for any man over nineteen.

  The movie theatre was on the back side of Maybelle Square, near enough to the diner or the Three Brothers if they wanted to get some dessert or a nightcap. He paused on the sidewalk and she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Do you want to have a drink or dessert?”

  “I have Archer Farms hard apple cinnamon cider at my place,” Daisy suggested. “Or I think my brothers left beer the last time they were over.”

  Was she trying to kill him, with that soft, eager smile and her breasts practically quivering above her dress? He didn’t think so, because she might enjoy teasing when it came to their great back-and-forth conversations, but she’d never seemed to be deliberately provocative.

  He might not want to pressure her or push her, but she was a woman and she knew what she wanted and when she was ready to have it.

  So he replied roughly, “That sounds really nice. Can we swing by my place real quick so I can let Tugger out and give him a walk?”

  “Absolutely, I love him,” she agreed.

  She squeezed his hand and bounced along to his truck, her happiness radiating off of her as if it were actual golden energy he could see.

  Dunk drove them over to his place and while Daisy looked around at the house and its landscaping, he opened his door, letting Tugger out. He streaked directly to Daisy, barking a couple of times until Dunk gave a low, sharp whistle. Daisy giggled as he slobbered all over her hands when she rubbed along his ribs and belly, her face wrinkling adorably.

  “Go take a piss,” Dunk commanded the dog.

  He started to hunt for the perfect place, circling trees and a fire hydrant, while Dunk went to slide his arm around Daisy’s shoulders.