Page 34 of Dirty Like Dylan

“Pretending not to like what you like,” I said.

“Huh?” he muttered, not looking up again.

I topped up my coffee, put the pot back, and dug deep for the kind of emotional-conversation stamina I’d really never had to find in myself until lately, with Ash. And the tolerance for drama I just didn’t have at this time of the morning. If ever. “You pretended you weren’t all over Elle until it was too late.”

“I said I’ve sworn off falling in love,” he corrected me, ignoring the comment about Elle. He never wanted to talk about her. Or any of the other people who’d ever rejected him, including his mom. “I’ll still fuck whoever I want to.”

“Uh-huh. So why’d you sleep here last night again?”

He flashed me an annoyed look. “I’m not into her, Cope.”

“You can say that as many times as you want, but I won’t believe you.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Call it gut instinct.”

He grunted, took a swig of his coffee, then set his mug on the island and finally looked me hard in the eye. “Don’t worry, buddy. You’ll always be my favorite.”

He was using humor, sarcasm, to deflect, like he so often did. I knew that.

“Glad to hear it,” I said, equally sarcastic.

I was just about to leave, to go put some pants on, when he blocked my way. I almost spilled my coffee on him. Then he took my neck in his hands, leaned in and kissed me.

If he wanted to catch me off guard and shut me up, it was effective.

I didn’t say another word.

It wasn’t exactly a mouth-to-mouth kiss; his lips had landed right next to the corner of my mouth, but it was soft and lingering. And as usual, I didn’t know what to do with it.

I just stood here, letting him do it. It wasn’t like he’d never done it before. I just waited for him to stop when he was done making his fucking point or whatever, because I knew he would.

But before he stopped, a flash of light caught my eye.

Amber.

She was standing in the stairwell to the basement. She was behind me, looking in through the cutout in the kitchen wall; I could only see her because she was reflected in the glass door of a cabinet across from me. Her camera was to her face and the morning sunlight had glinted off her lens. She looked like she was taking a photo—of Ash kissing me.

Great.

I was about to pull away when Ash withdrew. But he was still holding my neck, loosely, was still inches from my face, his eyes on mine. “You need anything from the city?” he asked me, eyelids lowered. “I’m gonna splash over today, get some food and stuff.”

“Nope. Just whatever you think we need.”

“Okay. Got it covered.” He released me, and that’s when Amber made herself known, knocking lightly on the wall.

When we both looked over at her, she’d dropped her camera to her side.

I exhaled; didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath so tight.

“Um… is it okay if I come up? I’m finished shooting downstairs.”

“Yeah. Come up.” I watched as Ash retreated to the other side of the island and took off his apron. “Ash made breakfast, if you’re hungry.”

“Oh…” she said, cautiously, “that’s really nice.” She drifted in, setting her camera down on the island. “Thank you—”

By the time she looked up to thank Ash, he’d disappeared out to the back deck with his plate. We often ate out there, but still.

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