Page 54 of Seven Year Itch
“Okay, let’s go back to discussing your big award. Or do you want to hear about my shitty Bumble date first?”
“Duh... shitty Bumble date, please.”
I listen intently as Tatianna shares her wild tale of assholery, and it reinforces my decision to do this sex club thing. I’m at the top of my game professionally. It’s time to give my personal life some TLC as well. And really, I’m not asking for too much. No deep, personal connection. I just want to do what I did with Calder a handful of times before I put myself out there again.
I know it’s crazy, but I have to find my mojo again, and that one little moment with Calder got me closer than I’ve felt in a long time.
Chapter 17
Who Wore It Better?
Calder
“Hey, I’m at your house, and no one is answering,” I say to Cozy over the phone.
“Why are you at my house?”
“It’s my night to take Ethan.” I pull my phone away to look at my calendar to make sure I have the right date. My brothers and I alternate weeks where we take Ethan out for some fun and bonding—and to give Max and Cozy a break. We did the same thing with Everly for years... even while she was still in high school. Wyatt usually just brings them up to the mountain and lets them play with the animals. Or his goat, before Trista joined the scene and brought her assortment of wildlife around. Luke does something lame like a movie. Me and E-Man, we go for high impact.
“I was planning to take him to that trampoline park tonight. Does he still want to go?”
“Oh God, yes, he would love that,” Cozy responds, sounding out of breath. “I’m sorry. I must have had my days mixed up! I’m at Dakota’s shop with him. Can you just come here and grab him?”
“What?” I cringe as pressure instantly builds in my chest at just the mention of her name.
“Yeah, he’s making a tie-dye shirt, but he’s almost done. Just swing by and grab him. The front door says Closed, but you can walk right in.”
“Okay... sure. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I feel stiff as I make my way back to the truck, running a trembly hand through my hair. It’s only been a few days since Mexico, and I wasn’t really prepared to see Dakota so soon. She’s beenoccupying way too many of my thoughts since we got back, and coming face-to-face with her isn’t really going to help me with that problem. And it is a problem because our night in Mexico was... unexpected.
I guess I knew the sex would be good.
I didn’t know it would be fucking spectacular.
And that frustrates the shit out of me.
I’m an experienced man, and I’ve had loads of great sex. But hardly ever with someone I know well, aside from Robyn. And Robyn is the fucking worst and not worth another thought in my head. Dakota on the other hand... I don’t know what to expect when I see her.
She was fine with me the next day in Mexico. We didn’t really speak because I took a page out of my brother Wyatt’s silent, classic mountain man book. I was quiet on our flight home. Quiet in our palapa as we showered and packed up. Quiet when I walked down the steps, staying on the side to serve as a barrier for Dakota and the birds. I was quiet because I was afraid of what I would say if I opened my mouth. It’d probably be something crazy like...Being with you was fucking aces. Fuck me again, please?
And that is not something I say to women. Ever. One and done. That was the deal. So I need to get my shit together and stop stressing out over seeing her again. She’s not stronger than me. She doesn’t have a magical vagina that beckons to me like a siren calling her ships home.
She’s just a chick that I fucked.
I repeat that last sentence over and over as I park next to her storefront and make my way inside. An old bell jingles above the door, and I feel my heart rate increase as I look around her shop for the first time. I’ve known Dakota for seven damn years and managed to never step foot in this place... and now I know why.
It looks just like her. Loud, colorful, and stylish with a touch of midcentury aesthetic. She had a similar vibe for her house remodel too. A mix of modern with classic elegance. She has a wayof finding unique clunky-looking pieces and making them shine in a space. One of the chandeliers she ordered took twelve fucking weeks to arrive, but she refused to look at anything else because that light was “the one.”
God, she’s high-maintenance.
My eyes look up when I see someone emerge from the doorway in the back of the store. She’s carrying a giant box that covers her face and when she drops it loudly on the floor by the cash register, I think my heart skips a beat.
She looks good. Tanned and busy in a take-no-prisoners sort of way. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, and she blows a wisp of it out of her face before she finally notices me. Her cheeks flush when our eyes connect, and I hate that my cock twitches. It’s a fucking traitor.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, looking nervously behind her like someone is going to come out of the back room.
I stand awkwardly by a table covered in hoodies, my fingers toying with the strings on one of them. “Ethan—” I blurt out after the longest, most awkward pause of my life.
