“Oh, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.” I smile and saunter past him to Amber and Megan. “See you guys tomorrow!” I call and wave before strolling right past Dean and up to the cabin.
I don’t have to look behind me to know he’s there, following me up the path and to the house. It shouldn’t thrill me to know he’s there, to feel his eyes on me, but it absolutely does, and I almost hope—against my better instincts—that he’s going to kiss me again.
“Kleo,” he says just as I’m reaching the steps, and I stop, turning to him.
“What?”
Dean swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m sorry.”
His words deflate any hope I had of a repeat performance. “For?”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” I cross my arms as he walks up the steps, stopping on the one right below me.
“No,” he agrees. “But don’t pretend for a second that you didn’t enjoy it as much as I did.”
“Doesn’t make it right.”
“I agree. And it can never happen again.”
Even as I hate that he’s right, I nod. Dean turns away and walks back down the steps and toward the beach.
15
Kleo
“So, Kleo, what’s it like living with a man before marriage?”
I nearly choke on my rosemary potato, the damned thing lodging in my throat so I have to fight to swallow it.
“Judson,” my mom scolds, and he shrugs.
“She’s over there daydreaming, so I wanted to get her attention.”
“I am not daydreaming,” I lie because I absolutely was. How could I not be? I can practically still taste him on my tongue. Dean’s hands caging me. His mouth on mine. His ass. All of it has been on my mind since our kiss that afternoon.
“Are you two getting along better?” My mom takes a bite of her chicken as my dad tries not to laugh when Judson whispers something to him.
“You mean since you last saw us yesterday? We’re peachy.”
“Kleo, you said you would try.”
“Nope, don’t remember promising to get along with him. I won’t kill him, but I have no interest in being anything but co-workers.”
“No?” Judson wiggles his eyebrows at me, so I pick up a potato and throw it at him.
“Kleo Allison Turner!” My mom uses my full name to scold me, so I purse my lips and narrow my gaze on my brother.
“He started it.”
“How old are you two? Seriously! Judson, you’re in your thirties. And Kleo, aren’t you trying to behave more like the twenty-six-year-old you are?”
“I suppose so,” I say, completely deflated.
“How’s the team-building going?” my dad asks before taking a drink from his water.
“You mean the death by PowerPoint? It’s great. Very informative.”
Chuckling, my dad shakes his head. “Dean runs a tight ship, but we haven’t had a single issue come up in two years, which, as I’m sure you can agree, is pretty telling of his management skills.”
His tone is far too calculated to be anything other than small talk, so I push my plate away and fold both hands in my lap. “Is there a particular reason you’re buttering me up with talks of how amazing Dean is?”
“You could learn a lot from him. Don’t discount something just because you’re annoyed.”
“How’s the house searching going?” I ask Judson. Bringing up his divorce is a low blow, but I need a major subject change.
“Not bad. There’s a few showings tomorrow, so hopefully things will work out.”
“Good.” I force a yawn. “I’m exhausted, think I’m going to head back to the camp. Early day tomorrow. Love you guys,” I say quickly.
“You don’t want to stay for dessert?” Judson asks, and I shake my head.
“Honestly, I’m exhausted.”
“Oh, okay,” my mother says, disappointed. “Well, I love you too, honey. Have a good night.”
Leaning down, I kiss her quickly and wave awkwardly at my dad before turning and leaving the room. I’m nearly at the door when I hear my dad behind me. “Kleo?”
I turn. “Yes?”
“I, um, I just want to make sure. Is Dean being kind to you?” His words are soft, nearly a whisper. Both hands are shoved into the pockets of his pants, which is completely unusual for my father. He’s uncomfortable, worried he put me in a bad situation.
My expression softens, and I step toward him. “Yes, Dad. Dean’s been very gentleman-like.” Except when he nearly screwed me against a wall earlier.
“Good. If that changes—”
“You’ll be the first one I tell.” I step toward my father and wrap both arms around him, all of my earlier irritation dissipated. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, Kleo.”
Planting a quick kiss on his cheek, I pull away and head out into the night, getting into my car and breathing deeply the moment I’m alone. Hitting the ignition button, I crank up the stereo and drive out of town back toward camp.
Minutes pass, and I turn down the private road that will take me home. Home. I smile. How long has it been since I felt completely at home somewhere? Even if I have an annoyingly sexy house guest and have only been here a few days, being here at the camp just feels right.
There’s no other way to explain it. The cabin comes into view ahead, and the smile is immediately wiped from my face as my headlights shine over the porch.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Throwing my car in park before it’s completely stopped, it jolts me, but I pay it no attention as I jump out and race to the porch where literally every single damn thing I own is strewn out on the wooden planks.
I gape at it. “He did not!” I roar.
“Oh, he most certainly did,” a deep voice says behind me, and I spin, not at all surprised to see Dean standing there, arms crossed, lips turned up in a smile.
“What the fuck, Dean!”
“Sucks when someone messes with your shit, doesn’t it?”
“You threw it outside!” Rage surges through me, making my cheeks run so damn hot I’m sure they’ll blister.
“I’ll have you know I carefully placed everything.”
I gape at him, literally at a loss for words. I mean, I know I moved his stuff, but I at least kept his inside. I didn’t place it out on the porch for all to see.
We stare at each other. Me pissed and bordering on murderous, him looking like he’s trying to fight back a smile.
“Well, I’ll leave you to deal with this,” he says, gesturing to the mess.
“You damn well better help me!” I yell back at him, but he doesn’t even bother to turn around. “Asshole,” I mutter as I grab my suitcase. At least, he put my damn clothes back inside and didn’t leave them all over the place. Carrying it inside, I pass right by where he stands in the kitchen and march down the hall to my bedroom. I try to open the door and am stopped when the knob won’t turn. I whirl to Dean, who’s now full-on grinning like the moronic jackass that he is. “You locked it?”