Page 91 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess

He laughs, and I smile reluctantly too.

“Sorry. Too desperate?” I say.

He shakes his head, bringing our clasped hands to his lips and placing a kiss on my knuckles. “No. I’m just glad I’m not the only one who wants to see you sooner. I’m going to have a lot of work over the next few days, though.”

I heave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine,” I say. “I’ve got several things I need to finish up for clients anyway.”

Dex nods as we turn into my driveway. “Friday it is. I’m sure I’ll see you before then, anyway.”

He’s probably right.

We walk in silence to my front door, where the porch light is on, every now and then attracting an insect or two. Not the most romantic setting, but honestly, I don’t care. I pull Dex into a hug anyway, burying my face in his chest and inhaling his fresh pine scent. He just holds me close, pressing his lips to my hair. My heart flutters at the pure sweetness of that.

When I lift my head to look at Dex, I smile softly at him. “Thank you for cooking for me,” I say, keeping my voice quiet.

“Thank you for not burning the pasta,” he replies, and I laugh.

Despite our smiles and teasing, there’s a rapidly growing tension between us, and I know it’s because we’ve reachedThe Moment—the goodnight kiss moment. The doorstep scene. The best part of every movie.

“This is a date, right?” I say, sounding a little breathless. “Like, a date date?”

“Mmm,” he says, humming in consent and looking amused. “Yes.”

I nod. “So…I could kiss you? Theoretically?” My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for his answer.

The corners of his lips curl as his eyes darken. “Theoretically, yes. You could.” He pauses, his smile widening. “If you can reach me, that is.”

My head tilts back as I laugh. “Rude,” I say. “A woman who likes you is standing in front of you, asking for a kiss, and you’re insulting her? What kind of—”

But he swoops down, covering his lips with mine, and my words break off—because my mouth is now occupied, yes, but also because all coherent thought flies from my mind immediately.

Dex is kissing me.

Andoh.

He’s kissed me before, but it was brief, and public, and not…not likethis.

My flustered brain vaguely recalls Scarlett’s theory that Dex would be the kind of kisser who took charge, took his time, and did it right. She was right. She was so right.

His hands are on either side of my face, firm but gentle as his lips move over mine. He’s slow in his movements, but absolutelydeliberate—every stroke of his mouth is precise, every motion controlled. My thoughts are scattered, my blood hot, as my arms move to twine around his neck. His hands move from my face to my hips to my back, like he doesn’t know what to touch first—although he doesn’t let them stray.

And when I nip lightly at his bottom lip, when a delicious little sound works its way out of the back of his throat and his lips slant more passionately over mine, I know it’s time to step back—before this gets out of hand.

Dex releases me as I pull away, rubbing one hand over his mouth and shaking his head. He smiles, looking a little dazed as he says, “Wow. I’m…definitelygoing to dream about that.”

I sigh happily. “Me too.”

He gestures to the door, still shaking his head, still smiling. “Go inside before I kiss you again.”

“You got it, Dexy,” I say sweetly.

He laughs, and I can tell he’s about to respond, when the front door behind us yanks open with a loud lurch.

“Maya, Dex, hi,” Scarlett says, sounding out of breath.

She is more efficient than a bucket of ice water over the head. And evenmoreefficient than that is the sound of a baby—mybaby—crying very loudly from upstairs.

“Ah,” Dex says, nodding. “Your little one calls.”

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