“They’re beautiful. She has quite the green thumb.”
“I’m glad she has hobbies.”
“What was your dad like?”
I train my gaze on her, but all she does is wait for my response. I guess getting personal and talking about the past is a thing we do now.
“He was outdoorsy. Loved to fish, hunt, camp, and take care of the acres of land my parents live on. He had a stroke last year and slid downhill from there.”
She doesn’t say she’s sorry, but she doesn’t have to. She snuggles close and covers me with the blanket, cocooning me with her. I wrap my arm around her shoulders.
“How old was your dad?”
“Sixty.”
“Young.”
“Too soon,” I mutter. Because it was.
“Did he play football too?”
“Not like I did. He played a little in high school. He could throw a ball. Graduated OSU, which meant he was a huge Buckeyes fan.”
“I bet he loved when you were on the team.”
Warmth floods my chest at the memory. “He came to every game. And those were Saturdays he could’ve been hunting, fishing, and camping.”
She hums while I tell her a story about the time my friend Barrett and I teamed up to score a winning touchdown against Michigan State.
“I bet you were one sexy linebacker.”
“Tight end.”
“I have evidence that you have one fine tight end,” she teases.
I trap her beneath me, a mountain of comforter between us.
“Where are you staying tonight, Becca Stone?” At home, I’m guessing. I don’t want her to go home. I can’t think of a single reason for her to leave.
She swipes her fingers along my cheek and loses her smile. If there was a line, I just overstepped it.
“Back to my brother’s. I have my own room now, so that’s a plus.” She touches my bottom lip, her eyes flicking to my mouth. “I’m not the staying type, Dax.”
“I’m not the ask-you-to-stay type,” I admit.
Fear freezes her face into an uncertain wince. Not what a guy wants to see when he invites a woman to stay.
I sit up, taking her with me, and then wrap her tight in the blanket. I grab the remote, because if the other option is that I keep talking about myself and she offers nothing in return, I’d rather not talk at all.
Hell, what is there to talk about if she’s on her way out the door again?
“Hate to point this out, Princess, but someone should.”
She stiffens like I just confessed I was a serial killer and my ax was under the couch.
“If this is sex and pancakes”—I toss the remote aside without turning on the TV—“or showers and quesadillas, then there aren’t a lot of conversations that need to happen.” I turn my head to find her chewing on her cheek in thought. “Right?”
“Right.”
“You want to get to know me, or do you want to fuck me and then leave? Pick one.”
Heat seeps into her gaze, and it’s not the sexy kind that will end with us sharing a bed tonight.
She’s pissed.
I, for one, don’t care if she’s pissed. I’m glad she’s committing to an emotion. The ambivalence isn’t only lazy; it’s also disingenuous.
“I can guess what you’d choose.” She tosses the blanket off her shoulders but isn’t able to disentangle herself from it before I catch her up in the folds.
“No. You don’t know what I choose. You never asked.”
Her nostrils flare as she sucks in an irritated breath.
“I’m guessing you don’t want me to ask you what you want,” I tell her. “I don’t think you know.”
She shakes out of my grip and, still partially concealed by the blanket, drags on her clothes in jerky motions.
“Yeah, well, I do know, but you don’t want to hear it. And like every guy who came before you, you want me to promise that I’ll be loyal, but it’s not like you’ll give me the same assurance.” She pulls on a sandal and wobbles while she balances on one foot to pull on the second. Then she throws my jeans at me.
I catch them an inch from my face and stuff my legs into them. In the kitchen she angrily throws ingredients into the shopping bag she brought.
“I came over to spend time with you because I wanted to see you. I hoped you wanted to see me,” she says.
“I did. I do,” I say, buttoning my jeans. She storms past me.
“I don’t know what you expect from me! Isn’t pancakes and a blow job enough?”
Her question shocks me into silence. Because, God in heaven, shouldn’t it be? My life is in Ohio and hers is here. I’m visiting for a limited time, and she’s been here for months and isn’t willing to put down roots. A no-strings fling during vacation should be utopia. Ask any guy if he wants pancakes and a blow job and I promise you he’ll say yes to both. Simultaneously.
Becca’s eyebrows draw down over her nose as her mouth flattens into an angry line. Trepidation shakes her arm as she jerks the bag onto her shoulder. She doesn’t want my honest answer.
She’s getting an answer anyway.
“You bet your sweet ass it isn’t enough, Princess. Question is, are you brave enough to do something about it?”
Chapter 15
Becca
If my brain had a transcript, it would read something like “Uhhhh...”
When it comes to guys demanding more from me, I don’t have a lot of experience.
“We don’t have to have a natural disaster for you to admit you want to hang.” Dax stands sentinel over me while my tongue is tied in a double knot.
When he puts it that way, it does sound ridiculous. What am I hiding from?
His thick eyebrows lift. “You leaving?”
It’s a dare. I can hear it in the gruffness of his tone. And yet I don’t feel the least bit threatened. I’m challenged, though. By his words as much as by what’s behind them. Am I brave enough to step up and take what I want?
“I’m leaving.” When his stubborn jaw goes rigid, I explain. “I’ve had a long day. My bed is waiting for me. My fancy face soap is waiting for me.”
He tilts his head. I can tell he’s smiling on the inside, even if his signature smirk hasn’t made an appearance yet.
“But if this is a sincere invitation,” I say, wrapping my fingers around the bag’s handles and stepping closer to him, “then I won’t say no to coming back.”
He uncrosses his arms, which I take as a sign that he’s no longer upset with me. He confirms that suspicion with “Tomorrow—do you work?”
I nod.
“Bring a bag. Your fancy face stuff. Clothes you can wear in the wilderness.” His gaze rakes appreciatively over my nine-to-five outfit. “You’re welcome here as long as you want.”
A surge of excitement engulfs me. I’m coming back. I’m staying as long as I want. I know I should be more scared than excited, but I can’t help it.
“No longer interested in spending time alone?”
“No, Princess, you seem to have changed that.” Finally, his smirk arrives. It’s gone in a blink.