Instead of including a smirking comment about what happened at The Backyard, he just stops talking and won’t look at me. And he was all weirded out even saying the words “The Backyard,” like he didn’t want to think about what happened there.
Oh, God. Did I break him? Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about that other mortifying thing I did there, because he’s also mortified by that other thing I did there.
Maybe he’s finally realized me and my ridiculous family really are not worth it. Maybe he’s already tired of cleaning up our messes, although he doesn’t seem to be tiring of cooking for me anytime soon, so that’s got to be a good sign. But he could just be cooking for me to butter me up before he tells me he changed his mind. I’m making his life worse instead of better, just like I knew I would, and it’s not like I’ve found his otters to make myself in any way appealing.
“I got up in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep,” I tell him, leaving out the part of all the tears I cried in the shower when I remembered Dax watched me lick cheese off my palm. “I grabbed the postcards from my car and feel like an idiot I didn’t realize when I first looked at them that they weren’t both addressed to Claws and Effect, and one was sent to you at The Backyard. I sent a list of your employees to my private investigator, and he’s going to see if anyone has any family members in Texas or Virginia Beach then widen his search if he doesn’t find anything to anyone local who’s traveled to either of those places recently. I finished talking to the delivery drivers and vets who were at The Backyard the week Chris and Lincoln went missing, and they all have solid alibies.”
I’m rambling and slowly walking around the island and closer to Dax, wanting him to know that just because my life is a shit-show, it doesn’t mean I’m not doing everything possible to find his babies in between all the craziness. This is what my life is always like, and I always get the job done.
He doesn’t interrupt me, but he does finally stop trying to find things to do on the counter to avoid looking at me, so I just keep word-vomiting as he stares at me.
“Volunteers are still going door-to-door, and we’ve gotten a few good tips from the dedicated phone line we set up that I have people following up on. And I have another call scheduled for later today with my guy who keeps an eye on black market animal sales, and by this afternoon, I should have—”
“Hey,” Dax interrupts softly, setting down the towel he had picked back up to wipe off the edges of our plates again, turning to face me when I get a foot away from him. “You don’t have to explain everything; I trust you. I know you’re working your ass off to find Chris and Lincoln.”
Say something about my ass. Say something about my ass!
“You ready to eat before this gets cold?” Dax looks away from me and down at the food on the island, and one smart, tiny little brain cell that is still alive and gasping for air, starts wheezing at me that maybe Dax is acting all weird, because I haven’t brought up that other thing yet either. I’m acting like it didn’t even happen.
Just like I did five years ago.
He wasn’t happy I blew him off back then, pretending like our night at McCallahan’s never happened, and we barely even knew each other. Now, we know each other. And now, I’ve kissed him, which is a pretty big fucking deal. And I’m talking about having the munchies and rambling about his otters, and although the otters are very important, they might need to take a backseat for just one second to deal with this monumental thing that happened, that I am actually not mortified about in the least.
That kiss was the only bright and shining moment out of all the decisions I made yesterday. But he doesn’t know that. He probably thinks I forgot, what with my cheese brain and the shouting about my missing legs.
Pretending like I still have the power of the pot brownie floating through me and giving me courage, I decide to behave like an adult, instead of worrying about what ifs, never actually talking about things that are important, and dragging this out much longer than necessary. I think five years is long enough to drag something out.
I take that final step between us, reach up, and grab Dax’s face in my hands, turning it toward me and pulling his mouth down to mine. I repeat yesterday’s performance, minus the stumbling and earth tilting, and a lot gentler.
His lips feel just as soft and perfect as they did yesterday, and just like then, I completely forget where I am and lose myself in kissing him. I whimper into his mouth when his big, solid arms wrap around me, pulling my body flush against his. When he does that sucking and nibbling thing on my top lip, my hands leave his face to grab onto fistfuls of his hair, while Dax pulls me up rougher against his body until my toes leave the ground.
So much for gentle.
Both of us deepen the kiss, and when I hook one of my ankles around the back of his leg and start moving it up, he suddenly pulls his mouth away from mine to look down at me, making me let out a whimper at the loss.
His arms are still wrapped tightly around me. I’m smushed so firmly against him I can feel his heart pounding in his chest against mine, and my hands are still clutching onto handfuls of his hair on the back of his head. Our lips are centimeters apart, and I just want to pull him back to me and continue what we were doing.
“Are you still high?” Dax asks, a sudden worried expression replacing the heat in his eyes while he looks down at me.
I ease up on the hold I have on his hair, clasping my hands together behind his head instead, while I enjoy every second of being in this man’s arms.
“As God is my witness, I will never be high again.” I shudder, the first hint of a smile finally showing up on Dax’s face since I walked in the kitchen. “Seriously, man. You let me eat an entire can of spray cheese.”
“Harley?” Dax asks, running his palms up and down my spine until I shiver against him. “I’m saying this is the nicest possible way, but will you just shut up and go on a fucking date with me already?”
“God, you could ask a little nicer,” I complain, which gets me a swat on the ass from the man whose hands are now resting on my hips.
The last man who smacked my ass ended up with a fractured wrist. He was also a loser who was trying to sell a tiger illegally and missing half his teeth. He wasn’t a hot-as-hell man who makes my toes curl when we kiss, but still, I’m really making great strides already in this whole dating thing.
“Fine. But just so you know, I agreed to date you yesterday morning before I kissed you. You’re just lucky you don’t suck at it, and I didn’t change my mind.”
I can visibly see his shoulders relax and my favorite sparkle come back to his eyes, and I realize that one tiny leftover brain cell was absolutely right. He thought I’d forget about the kiss or pretend like it never happened, and he was nervous when I woke up and came out here.
Since I’ve suddenly become in touch with my feelings, I lean forward and press my lips to his again, just to soothe a little of the hurt and worry I probably caused him.
“What if you would have sucked at it?” Dax jokes when I pull away from his mouth, and I move out of his arms.
Balling up my fist, I punch him in the arm before grabbing my plate of food.
I might be in touch with my feelings now, but I’m still me.