Page 35 of Falling for the Wrong Guy

Dex parked and pulled a pair of gloves off his hands as he got off the bike. A backpack bounced behind him as he walked toward me. His white smile broke through the clammy mist. “I thought that was you.” He reached me, and his smile disappeared. “What’s wrong?” He nodded. “You’ve changed your mind. I guess I was expecting it.” I could feel the disappointment rolling off him.

“I haven’t changed my mind, but I need to know something. I don’t need to know your business. I don’t need to know what you’re up to here, but are you planning to leave once it’s done? Are you just going to up and leave without a word?”

Dex nodded as he shoved his gloves in his coat pocket. “I guess Kellan has continued his campaign against me.”

“Just answer the question. I’m cold and I want to be at home with a cup of hot cider.”

He closed his eyes for a second. “Hmm, spiced or plain?”

“I usually put in a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg to make it zippier.”

“Haven’t had hot cider in ages.”

I tilted my head at him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were looking for an invite back to my place for hot cider.”

“Really? What gave it away?”

“You closed your eyes and moaned,” I said.

“Not sure if it was a moan.”

I blew out an exasperated puff of air that turned white and mingled with the rest of the haze. “Dex, would you like to come back to my place for a cup of hot cider? But I need an answer.” Kellan’s warning about not getting drawn in by Dex’s charm danced lightly through my head.

“I think I can explain myself better over a cup of hot cider.”

“Fine. Follow me back to my place.” I had no idea what I was doing, but I hoped to break through that layer of charm and find out exactly what his plans were once we were cradling cups of cider.

The flutters that had been bothering me for the past few days returned. It had been hours since my last cup of coffee, so I couldn’t blame it on caffeine. Then it hit me—like a ton of bricks. It was Dex. It was nerves or giddiness or something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Had I already fallen victim to his charm? I considered myself smarter and more practical than that.

I glanced up in the rearview. His headlight wasn’t there, and I felt profound disappointment that he’d decided not to follow. There was immediate relief when the light came into view behind me. Oh my gosh—I was giddy. Dex had turned me into Layla.

“This is ridiculous, Aria,” I said to my brown eyes in the mirror. “You are, or were, dating his brother, and everything about the man spells heartbreak. Stop, stop, stop. And stop talking to yourself. You’re making the windshield foggy.”

I pulled into my short driveway, and Dex parked the bike on the street. A breath caught in my throat as he unfolded his massive physique from the bike. It seemed my little pep talk hadn’t helped those chest flutters. I wasn’t too worried. I was sure the shine would wear off quickly with a man like Dex. The question was—should I keep him on as a cook? I couldn’t very well wander around with stars in my eyes while I ran a restaurant.

Dex shoved his gloves in his pocket. “Nice little place, but it doesn’t have a view of the cove.”

“No, that was the tradeoff for some privacy and a break from my sisters.”

Dex stopped at the front steps and looked down. “I’ve got sand on my boots. Can I wipe them on the grass?”

“Of course.” I watched as he stomped a few clumps of wet sand from his boots. “Were you on the beach earlier?”

“I was on the north end of the cove, near the tide pools.”

“In the dark? Or were you out exploring with a flashlight again?”

He smiled weakly. “Both.” His eyes were jewel green in the porchlight. “Do the words ‘lyin’ talk’ mean anything to you?”

“Well, there’s the obvious meaning,” I said, utterly confused.

“Yeah, not looking for the literal interpretation.” He shook his head. “Never mind. Every time I say it, it sounds crazier.” He rubbed his hands together. “I think I’m sand-free. How about that cider?”

We walked inside and I motioned for him to hang his coat on the hook. He was wearing a black T-shirt that was stretched across his shoulders and back. Suddenly, I was more aware than ever of his presence. He practically filled my front room with his size, making my house look like a dollhouse. He looked even bigger when he pulled out a chair from my small kitchen table and sat. His long legs had no place to go in the cramped kitchen corner. I couldn’t stop a laugh.

“Story of my life, I’m afraid,” he said as he finally settled his feet to the side of the table.

“I guess my postage stamp kitchen isn’t helping matters.” I poured the cider into a pot and added the spices. I gave the liquid a stir. I was about to join him at the table to wait for the cider but decided to stay standing, leaning against the stove. It seemed safer on that side of the kitchen after my shocking revelations in the driveway. I was sure it was just a temporary thing. Dex was, after all, incredible to look at, and, as his brother had angrily pointed out, he was charming. But I certainly didn’t need to mix myself up with someone like Dex. Which brought me back to my original concern and my motive for driving down to the marina. (Or was that my real motive? Did I drive down there because I wanted to see Dex?) I pushed that notion from my head.

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