“Do you need anything for your room?” I ask. This morning, I finished setting up the guest room where she’ll be staying the night. I want to make sure I didn’t forget anything. One last minute Target run had me buying all sorts of shit I never thought I’d purchase. And who knew there was an entire aisle just for candles? I spent nearly twenty minutes picking out the perfect candle to set on her bedside table.
“No, it’s great. Thank you so much for putting that together. You didn’t need to go through the extra trouble. I could’ve slept on the couch.”
“I would’ve had you sleep in my bed before making you sleep on the couch,” I say, my voice coming out rough.
She doesn’t say anything. Her cheeks just blush an adorable shade of pink that matches her pink and white cotton pajama set. Her hair is down, pulled back from her face with a headband, and her face is clear of makeup. It strikes me again—her effortless beauty. I have to physically brush the tightness from my chest with my hand.
“Can I walk you up?”
“To my room?” she asks.
I nod in reply.
She laughs. “Your house is big, but it’s not that big, Golden Boy. I don’t think I’ll get lost on my way upstairs.”
That. That right there is something I love—her quick wit and hearing her give me shit. And I love hearing her call me Golden Boy. She’s reclaimed a name that was once given to me by the media and made me long to hear it leave her lips.
“I won’t apologize for wanting to be a gentleman. If you’d like, I’ll even check under the bed and in the closet for the Boogeyman and tuck you in tight.”
“Quite the host. Do you do that for all of the women you have stay the night?”
“The only women who have stayed the night in this house are my sister and my niece. You’re the first guest I’ve offered my turndown services to.” I wink and feel slightly more buzzed by the twinkle in her eyes flickering back to life.
Come on, Austen. Play with me.
Dakota squares her shoulders to me. “Is that so? Well, I’m just tickled pink to hear that I’m your first guest. What does this turndown service entail?”
I close some of the distance between us, giving her a rakish smirk. “Oh, you know. It includes turning back the comforter and shutting off the lights.”
She taps her finger to her chin. “Hmm, sounds like any other run-of-the-mill service to me.”
“Well, if you’re a good girl, I’ll even tuck you in and tell you a bedtime story,” I rasp.
Her breath hitches, and her cheeks burn brighter. “I’m quite sure that if you did that, I would be the very opposite of a good girl,” she breathes before slipping past me toward the stairs. “Goodnight, Golden Boy,” she calls over her shoulder.
My stomach somersaults as I stand there dumbfounded, my jaw damn near on the floor.
“Goodnight, Austen,” I reply when I finally regain my composure. I watch as she retreats up the stairway. My willpower not to follow her should be applauded. Dakota’s presence tests me more and more with each encounter.
You can only be friends, I remind myself, repeating my new mantra for the thousandth time.
2
September
My car starts with a wheezing sound that I definitely need to get checked out. I rub the dash and chant, “Thank you, Carol. I can always count on you, sweet thing.”
At this point, I say a little prayer of thanks each time Carol starts. My brother Brody hates that I still drive my beat-up 1998 Honda Civic, which I got in my junior year of high school. He can’t understand why Aaron hasn’t bought me a safer, more reliable vehicle.
What Brody doesn’t understand is that I don’t want to owe Aaron anything other than a manila folder of neatly tabbed and signed divorce papers.
I’m leaving him, though he doesn’t know that yet. No one knows.
But that is why it was imperative that my sweet Carol started today so I could get to my new job that I absolutely adore. It should only be about three more months before I’ll have earned enough money to leave Aaron and file for divorce.
If I asked Brody for the money, I know he would give it to me in a heartbeat. Lord knows they pay him plenty to throw the pigskin in Colorado. But I couldn’t bear to be another person asking for handouts from Brody.
If you would just tell someone about what you’re going through, it wouldn’t be a handout; it could save you.
