I spend a few minutes catching my mom up on the changes in Dax from the last time I saw him five years ago and quickly give her a run-down on his dad and his problems with being able to forgive the guy, move on, and be happy.
“It sounds like being around you is good for him. You said so yourself; he’s a different person when he’s around you. More like the old Dax, but less of a jerk. And I must say, you don’t sound as stressed or frazzled as you normally do when we talk on the phone. Letting someone help you once in a while is a good thing for you. I think the two of you need each other more than you care to admit right now.”
“Being around me is never good for people,” I remind her. “Take Brad for instance.”
“Wasn’t his name Brent?”
“Fucking hell.” I sigh. “See? Still can’t remember his name, and I just broke up with him. It’s too soon for me to date anyone again. My deathbed will be too soon to date anyone again.”
“Have you not been listening to me? You just haven’t dated the right person yet. Just continue being supportive and being there for him, and let him help you with some of your burdens, cough-cough, your dad and brother.”
“Have we met? I’m not that person. He’s got shit going on in his life that I don’t even know about. I’d just make it worse.”
“No, you wouldn’t, and yes, you are that person!” she argues. “You do it for your dad and your brother every day.”
“I make sure they don’t kill themselves or anyone around them every day.”
“See? Look at you, making a difference in the world!” she exclaims, suddenly switching the subject. “Is he hot?”
“Yes. Wait, no!” I quickly amend. “Who cares? That has absolutely nothing to do with this conversation.”
“Oh, it has everything to do with this conversation. Why do you think I stayed with your father so long? Because I got a thrill out of walking through the front door every day, never knowing what horror or new burn holes in the carpet would await me? No. I stayed, because he was hot and very good in bed.”
“Eeew, Jesus, Mom,” I complain.
“Don’t tell your stepfather I said that. Anyway, stop worrying about why he’s doing nice things for you, and just enjoy having someone take care of you for once. Maybe give him a little somethin’-somethin’ as a thank you while you’re being all sweet, and emotionally supportive, and completely unlike you. It might make you less grumpy and more open to the idea of falling in love,” she advises.
“Okay, it’s always a pleasure catching up. Give Casey my love,” I tell her, sitting up in bed.
We say our goodbyes, and I promise to call her tomorrow. After I hang up the phone, I still hear the sounds of Dax finishing up in the kitchen, whistling again while he works. I think about my new kitchen table, my fully stocked fridge and pantry, and all that damn delicious food Dax made for me, and I feel it again. The urge to walk out there, slide my arms around his waist, and cuddle up to him, instead of my usual urge to kick him in the balls.
Fuck you, you delicious fucking frittata.
CHAPTER 10
You’re About to Get Lucky, Motherfucker
Dax
“I’m so glad we had this talk. I just really appreciate you and how nice you’ve been.”
Keeping my arms straight out to the sides, where I’ve had them since Ryan threw his arms around my waist to hug me, I bend one elbow and awkwardly give him a few pats on the back.
I felt bad about how short and clipped I was with Ryan on the phone this morning, especially after he lugged that kitchen table and chairs up from the basement and out to his truck by himself then ran to three different grocery stores to get everything on my list to stock Harley’s kitchen. Deciding I should try again to be nice to my employees after Harley’s urging over breakfast, I figured I should start with him.
“Don’t you just love a good hug after an emotional talk?” Ryan asks, making me wish I would have started with someone else this afternoon. Anyone else.
When he finally disengages and steps away from me, I shove my hands in my pockets and rock back and forth on the balls of my feet.
“Okay. This was fun. You should probably get up to the farmhouse for your interview with Harley,” I encourage him, so he stops standing here staring at me with that sappy, appreciative smile on his face.
“I’ll make sure to tell everyone just how nice you’ve been!” Ryan gushes.
“That’s really not necessary for… okay then,” I trail off as Ryan jogs away from me with an overenthusiastic smile and a wave.
“Everyone!” Ryan shouts, which I return with something that probably resembles the grimace emoji, before he disappears through the door of the indoor habitat.
“What the fuck did I just witness?”
My palms start to sweat when I hear a familiar voice behind me. Turning away from the outdoor otter wading pool, I see the guy who spoke standing a few feet away from me on the other side of the wire fence enclosure, his fingers casually hooked through the fence holes. A guy who’s smirking at me instead of looking at me like he wants to kick my ass, which is better than I expected when I sent him a text a little bit ago asking him to meet me here.
“Well, DJ, that’s what I like to call bonding with my employees,” I tell my old friend I haven’t seen in the flesh in five years as I walk over to the chain-link fence that separates us and unlock the door to the enclosure to let him in.
DJ Taylor steps inside with me, and I lock the cage door behind him, sliding my hands in the pockets of my joggers when I turn to face him so the fucking things will stop shaking. Trying to rejoin the land of the living and be happy again should have started with the guy standing in front of me, quietly looking me over from head to toe. Hopefully, he believes in the saying “better late than never.”
When Harley brought me back here after breakfast, I let her go off and handle the employee interviews on her own, so I could handle the daily cleaning of the wading pool and gather up the nerve to text DJ. I didn’t think he’d even show up, let alone show up within an hour of me sending that text.
“So, bonding with your employees includes a warm embrace, does it?” DJ asks with another smirk, my hands shaking a little less, since he hasn’t thrown a punch at me yet.
“Well, as you know, a certain spunky, beautiful woman who has recently come back into my life told me I need to make nice with my employees and stop making them cry all the time,” I explain. “I might have been too nice by asking him if there was anything he needed to talk about. I meant with work and my missing otters, but now I know Ryan has a problem masturbating, because he thinks his dead grandmother is always watching. So, that was a swell bonding experience.”
“Jesus,” DJ mutters, shaking his head. “Well, look on the bright side. At least he didn’t cry.”
“Oh there were tears,” I shudder.
“I meant from your employee, not from you.”
“You’re hilarious. Let me guess—you’ve heard the 9-1-1 call. I was under duress, you asshole,” I grumble.
“I don’t know what 9-1-1 call you’re talking about. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re a pretty little bitch,” DJ tells me, waving his hand in the general direction of my face. “All that pretty is bound to need a good cry now and then.”