Page 57 of Take A Number
Dean lets out a deep, genuine laugh that brings those butterflies back fast and furious. “It’s just a beanbag chair, Norah. Not a sex swing.”
He takes a drink, and my eyes fixate on his Adam’s apple as it slides down his thick neck. “Do you have a sex swing?”
“No.” He nearly spits out his beer. “Do you?”
“That’s a firm no,” I retort and shiver at the thought. “My kinkiness ends at lingerie and pink vibrators.”
“Works for me.” He waggles his eyebrows and takes another sip before gesturing back to the chairs. “C’mon, Norah, squish around in the beanbag chair. It’ll be fun.”
“Sitting is fun?” I roll my eyes before turning to lower myself onto the noisy seat. I look at him, completely unimpressed. “It…feels like a beanbag chair.”
“I know, right?” Dean replies excitedly and flops down next to me. He takes a sip of his beer before frowning at me. “What gave you the impression I was rich?”
“Oh, I don’t know…maybe the fancy clothes you wear and the car you drive…and that pesky half a million you invested in my bakery.”
Dean rolls his eyes “The clothes and car are kind of like your lingerie obsession. You wear sexy lingerie to feel powerful, and I wear nice clothes and drive a nice car to feel successful. I actually agree with you. You get out what you put into the universe.”
“Okay…” I take another drink, my brows still furrowed. “And the bakery?”
He shrugs casually. “That’s business.”
“So…you’re not rich?”
He lifts his shoulders. “I’m comfortable.”
“Why are you being so cryptic?”
“Why are you being so nosy?” He laughs. “Areyourich?”
“Um…I was starting to feel prettycomfortable,but now I’m pretty poor because I’ve re-invested a lot of my money back into my business. It doesn’t mean I can’t afford a decent couch, though.”
Dean sighs heavily and runs a hand through his dark hair, pushing the loose strands off his forehead. “I’m not home very much, so I don’t really see any point at dropping loads of money on furniture.”
“Why aren’t you home very much? Where do you go?”
“Your bakery, my co-working space…wherever.” He shrugs dismissively. “I used to hang out at Kate and Lynsey’s a lot when they lived in this complex, but that’s obviously changed now. And I keep hoping someday I am going to move somewhere more exciting than Boulder. Having a bunch of shit would just tie me down.”
My lips purse at that surprising remark. “Where would you want to move to?”
“I’m not sure yet…I’m waiting for inspiration to strike.” He winks playfully at me. “And when Iamhome, I’m usually upstairs in my bedroom because my bed isverycomfortable.” He waggles his brows suggestively. “Want to see?”
A flush runs up my cheeks, and that nervous sweat threatens to return. My voice is thick when I reply, “Maybe we should eat first.” I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans and play with one of the frayed holes. “I’m kind of excited to see the culinary delights you’ve crafted for us tonight.”
He shoots me a boyish smile and lifts his brows. “Oh Norah…you’re in for a treat.”
He heaves himself out of the beanbag chair and offers me his hand. When he yanks me up, our bodies brush against each other, and a flurry of desire rushes through me at the contact. Dean drapes his arm around my shoulders and guides me to the wooden stool at his breakfast bar. As I sit down and glance into the kitchen, my eyes widen in horror.
Dean’s kitchen is…a disaster. A horrible, dirty-dishes-and-food-everywhere, filthy disaster.
“Is that cream of mushroom?” I ask, pointing at the opened tin can sitting out beside an empty can of green beans.
“Yep! This is my mom’s recipe.” He winks and hunches over to peer into the oven.
“What recipe?” I ask, anxiety creeping inside me as I wonder what he’s about to pull out of there. I can smell it, but I can’t place it.
“I made you”—he pauses as he grabs a glass casserole dish with a pot holder and spins around to face me—“tater tot casserole.”
“What?” I stare down at the strange dish and try not to laugh.
