Page 28 of Fall With Me
I burrow into the crook of his neck, sniffing that clean scent of his. “Loads.”
He pulls away and I tug my shirt down, running my hands over the nonexistent wrinkles.
“Good. Anytime you need a hug, feel free to ask without going to such extremes. It’s creepy and completely unnecessary.”
I shake my head, laughing because no matter what I say, I can’t win with him. “Okay, Dawson,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I’m going to head to bed.Alone.” He winks. “Finn will be up sooner than I like.”
“You’re going to tease me about this accident for quite some time, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
Yay. I can’t wait. “Good night, Dawson.”
“Night, 007.”
“What?”
“Oh, you know, just a subtle hint for you to watch some James Bond movies and figure out how to be a covert spy. Next time, you might get that full cuddle session in.”
I smack his chest. “For the last time, I wasn’t trying to do anything except leave.”
He grins. “Sure you were.”
I scoff, heading to the front door.
Dawson watches me get in my car and reverse out of his driveway. The entire drive home, I bask in the glow of receiving a hug from Dawson Reed and his teasing.
Turns out my brother’s employee is funny, gorgeous, and gives great hugs. Now to erase how his hug made me feel. Because I can’t fall for a guy, especially one who has a kid. I can’t risk hurting them.
But I can be there for them as a friend without getting rejected.
Chapter 13
Dawson
“Do you have your football gloves?” I holler at Finn as I fill his water bottle from the fridge dispenser. We needed to leave five minutes ago to make it to the field on time. It doesn’t matter how organized I am, Finn has a way of moving things around quicker than the Tasmanian Devil.
“Yes!” He stomps down the hall, hair rumpled, yogurt dry and crusty on his upper lip.
I have no clue what time he went to bed last night, but it was definitely later than normal. And it shows. He’s been a bear since the moment I woke him up to get ready for the day. I calmly ask, “Will you go brush your teeth and comb your hair?”
“I already did,” he screams. “Stop asking me to do it!”
I blink. Does he think I’m stupid? He’s lying, and this is my first time requesting he go into the bathroom and make himself presentable. “Let me do a smell test.” This is one of the worst ideas I’ve had as a parent. Why do I want to smell disgusting stale breath?
Because the fear of being caught lying works the majority of the time.
But Finn will not be deterred. “Fine. You can see I already did it and can stop yelling at me.”
Lord, grant me patience and wisdom to raise this boy.
“I’m not yelling at you,” I say in a monotone voice. “I apologize if it sounds like I am. Let me check those teeth out so we can get to your game.”
Finn’s brows pull together close enough they almost touch. His lips and nose are screwed up tight. Stomping into the kitchen, he stands there with his hands fisted at his sides. Finn raises his chin, staring at me like he dares me to say he didn’t brush his teeth.
Too bad for him; he doesn’t scare me. Grabbing his chin between my thumb and forefinger, I pry open his jaw and lean in, inhaling deeply.
