Chapter 50
Dexter
A blocky–looking cardinal Mom almost died over.
A giant pencil as big as my hand, painted a dark green.
A saguaro cactus, probably inspired by camping in Arizona with Archer last winter.
“How about this?” I ask, holding up a giant cookie. He’s painstakingly carved in all the chocolate chips.
“Uncle Dex, if you’re buying it,” Colt says with a twinkle in his eye, “that’ll just be fifty bucks.”
Junie bites her lip to stop herself from grinning.
“Fifty?” I toss the cookie and catch it again. “Kid, that’s highway robbery, even if the cost of damn near everything is like a runaway train these days. I’ll give you twenty.”
“Forty.”
“Twenty.”
“Thirty.”
“Twenty–five. Final offer,” I growl.
He stares at me numbly before holding out his little hand. “Okay, deal!” “Demanding little brute. But I can’t blame you, knowing where you get
it,” I say, tapping him on the forehead with the cookie while I lock eyes with my brother.
Archer holds out a basket with wadded bills and I drop my cash in.
Then I slide an arm around Junie’s waist and hand her the cookie. “For the Sugar Bowl,” I say.
The tension in her body dissipates as she looks up at me.
“Oh, nice! It’ll be right at home on the wall,” she promises. “I love it already.”
“You better,” I tell her. “It cost me a whole twenty–five dollars.”
She and Colt laugh together, and for the first time, I think maybe this day won’t end in disaster after all.
We wind through the park, visiting every booth, a couple dozen or more artists plus a few food vendors lined up in
neat rows.
Junie’s in her glory, snacking and encouraging me to spend my money on craft beer, laughing in pure delight at everything she sees.
Chapter 50
Shit, how does it come so easy?
If I just had half her excitement, the whole world might feel lighter.
As the afternoon draws on and the art show winds down, I sit by the river on the grass. Junie talks to Colt, listening to his latest obsession with some cartoon where Lucifer’s daughter runs a hotel for redeeming souls.
The girl has more patience than I do, especially when Patton drops down beside me.
“You’re still here?” He whistles in mock surprise. “Old Dex would’ve left as soon as he could get away with it to get home to his spreadsheets and punching shit.”
Looking at Patton, it’s clear he’s had more than a few of those craft beers. I don’t blame him–they were decent beer–but there’s no point cussing him out. It’ll just roll right off him.
So I tuck my hands behind my head and say, “Figured Mom wouldn’t mind the company. How often does the entire family ever spend a whole evening together?”
“She can’t stop talking about it, dude. This. You. Her.” He waves a hand at Junie. “It’s nice seeing you as an almost–married man, you know? Maybe that’s what the family needs. Maybe it’s what we’ve been missing for a
while.”
“You’re drunk, Pat,” I tell him. “Go home.”
“Not drunk enough,” he says. “And being drunk doesn’t stop me from having eyes. I can still see what’s going on. And hell, Bro, I like it. I like her. I like you when you’re around her and that’s pretty fucking shocking. Like I said, it’s just what this family needs.”
“A pretty redhead?”
He glares at me and raises the bottle to his lips. “I’m talking about you having a beating heart.”
“Bull.” Does he even remember this whole thing is a ruse with an end that can’t come soon enough?
I look over again at Junie, who smiles up at Mother. It’s an easy smile, like she was born into this, and Mother laughs at something she says.
In another life, Patton might be right instead of coming off like his usual jackass self.
Juniper Winkley might have fit into the family geography for real.
Another moving piece, another cog slotting seamlessly into our world.
Trouble is, that will never be reality.
Even if we had real feelings deeper than the need to rip off each other’s clothes, there’s no way it makes sense.
I’m not falling into the illogical killing machine called love, and I’m damn sure not dragging this innocent, dreamy–eyed young woman with me.
Chapter 50
It’s sunset by the time we get back to the apartment and a swollen moon rises above the city on the horizon.
This time, she doesn’t object when I follow her upstairs, carrying the cookie and an ugly–ass vase she insisted I buy.
When we reach the top of the stairs, though, she freezes. I almost crash into her, but she just holds up a hand. And we
listen.
Is that–trickling water?
Catness yowls loudly through the door, erasing any doubt.
“Oh, man. Oh, shit!” She lunges forward, almost tripping in her heels as she unlocks her door and opens it to chaos.
Water streams from under her kitchen sink, spraying across a floor that already resembles a small pond. Catness is perched on the couch, fur raised and hissing at the slow–moving flood.
“Shit!” Junie says again, surveying the damage with panic etched on her face. “And shit, my heels are getting wet…”
“Don’t fuss about the heels-”
She pulls them off and holds them, the straps dangling in one hand as she splashes forward to save Catness.
I’m instantly on edge. This is the last fucking thing she needs.
Even if her scummy landlord pays for the damages, she’ll have to fork out a good wad for the personal stuff that’s ruined.
Fuck this dump entirely.
“You should go. I’ve got this mess to deal with,” she tells me with sad eyes, her phone already clenched in her hand.
“You can’t stay here,” I tell her. “Come back to my place. I can spare a room.”
Your bedroom? My dick throbs hopefully, but now is hardly the time.
Even if the broken way she looks around her apartment, the flowing water making a dramatic scene, makes me want to touch her.
Kiss her.
Pull her into my arms and show her there’s nothing here worth worrying about.
I’m burning to make her forget.
She turns to me, her eyes wide and her mouth pressed tight like she’s fighting back tears. “I can’t intrude like that,
Dexter. I-”
“You’re not intruding on shit. I invited you.” I stride through the water, ignoring the way it dirties my shoes, and grab a tall plant from where it’s drowning on the floor. “You can bring Catness. Bring every plant worth saving. I’ve got the room.”
Chapter 50
She looks at me like I’ve just lost my damn mind. Maybe I have.
Her throat tightens as she swallows, but then she squares her shoulders and nods. “Thank you. I appreciate it more
than you know.”
“Go pack up,” I say briefly, glad that the flood hasn’t made it into her bedroom yet. “Grab everything you want for clothes and personals. I’ll start loading the car.”
“But you’ll get dirty in this crap,” she says as I prop the plant up in one arm, a little dirt already smudging my shirt.
“I don’t want you to-”
“I can afford to ruin one outfit.” I close the distance, using my free hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her
ear. I don’t care how her breath stutters.
I don’t care if we’re in the middle of a disaster zone and it’s totally the wrong time, I want nothing more than to lose myself in her.
Goddammit. “Dex-”
“Pack, sweetheart. Don’t make me say it again,” I growl, ignoring the way she’s looking at me, all new awareness and heat and temptation. “Get moving before I toss you over my shoulder and carry you to the car.”
Catness interrupts whatever she was about to say with another miserable wail, and she glances down with a frown.
“Okay!” she says. “Let me just get changed first.”
I want to tell her not to worry about the dress–I’ll buy her another one if she wants–but she disappears off to the bedroom while Catness looks on in total disgust.
“You’re not coming back here, buddy, and neither is she. Sit tight and stay dry,” I tell him, grabbing another plant and heading down to the car.
