I love the way we banter back and forth. This exchange is feeling very . . . us. And I guess after this morning, I really didn’t think she’d be able to pivot so easily. But everything she does amazes me, so this should come as no surprise.
We didn’t really get a chance to talk about the incident this morning. With all of us being a bit jet-lagged, we slept in and had a late breakfast with Griff and Mack. Then, Dakota and Mack went off to do a little last-minute shopping for tonight and got ready in our room.
Unsure if I should bring it up or not, I play with the medallion on my chain while I consider my options. Dakota must be a mind reader, or maybe I’m just that easy to read because she gives me the slightest shake of her head and mouths, “Don’t,” to me from her spot next to Mack.
Closing the distance between us, I offer her my hand. “Can we talk for a minute?” I ask her.
Her shoulders slump as if having this conversation with me is the last thing she wants to do. She puts her hand in mine and follows me to a quieter section of the terrace.
I reach into my pocket and am about to open my mouth to speak when she cuts me off. “Look, Carson. We don’t have to have this conversation again. I know this morning was an accident, and honestly, if anyone should be apologizing here, it’s me for my behavior last night. I’m not sure what I was thinking. In fact, I think my pent-up sexual frustration stole all my good sense. Then this morning happened, and well, as I’m sure you could tell, I wasn’t immune to your touch. You see, it’s just been so long since someone has touched me like that.”
“I didn’t bring you over here to talk about this morning,” I clarify, my voice gravelly from her confession.
Her head tilts to the side in confusion and her cheeks stain my favorite shade of pink. “Oh. Oh my gosh.” She tries to cover her face, but I gently pull her hands into mine. “Can you please spare me and pretend I didn’t just confess all of that to you?”
A deep chuckle rumbles from my chest. “No way. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget you confessing that you’re not immune to my touch, Dream Girl.”
She turns her hands over in mine to lace our fingers together, but pauses and looks up at me skeptically when she feels something in my left hand. “What’s this?” she asks.
“I made you a friendship bracelet for tonight,” I stammer. My stomach churns with trepidation as I turn my palm over and show her the green and aqua beaded bracelet.
“Thank you, that is so sweet of you.” Dakota whispers in reverence as she picks it up from my hand to examine it closer. I can tell once she’s read the letters on the bracelet because her brow knits in confusion.
Taking her hand in mine again, I clarify, “I was never calling you by the name of a city I knew you didn’t live near. I mean, of course I knew you grew up in the Dallas area as soon as you told me who your brother is.” I silently will my nerves to ease so I can get through this.
“Do you remember what you were wearing the first day I met you?” I ask her.
Her face scrunches up in the cutest way as she tries to recall. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, I do. You were wearing this beige crewneck that said ‘Pemberley est. 1813’ on it. I also overheard you telling Mack that you were an English major in college. Being a guy who loves giving nicknames, I just couldn’t help myself.”
I can see the moment it registers for her. “Austen, as in my favorite author,” she states.
“Yeah,” I reply sheepishly. “I didn’t correct your assumption that day, because I thought it was a cute inside joke between us, only you weren’t completely in on the punch line.”
She shakes her head and gazes up at me in wonderment. The one side of her bracelet says “Austen” and the other says “Dream Girl.”
“Giving nicknames to those I’m close to is kind of my way of showing them I care. It’s a term of endearment.” Brushing my thumb over her knuckles, I continue, “From the moment I met you, I had this insane feeling that you were meant to be in my life. I looked into your big emerald eyes, and it was like this moment of clarification.” I pause, clearing my throat. “Just know I would never want to push you into anything, Dakota. I’ll gladly accept you in my life in any way you’re willing to have me. Even if that means we remain just friends.”
Dakota’s green eyes bounce between mine, but the hesitation I expected to see isn’t there. Instead, I’m met with emerald eyes that burn with yearning.
“Would you say we’rejustfriends, Mr. Wilder?” She quirks a brow at me, her lips twitching with mirth.
I stare back at her intently as I squeeze her hands in mine three times. “The feelings I have toward you have never been friendly, Austen. Not even when I told myself you were someone else’s—I held onto this false sense of hope that maybe one day you could be mine.”
“And is that still what you want?” she whispers, before clarifying, “For me to be yours?”
My heart stops in my chest and the air seizes in my lungs at her question.
“Hey, Golden Boy?” she asks as she pulls her hand from mine and dips into one of the pockets of her dress.
“Yeah, Austen?” I reply.
She places something in my palm, and when I bring the lime green and black bracelet up to my face, I read “Golden Boy” just as she asks, “Remember when you said you wouldn’t kiss me until I’m ready to be all in?”
My eyes shoot up to meet hers, hopeful glances being shared between us.
“I’m ready now,” she whispers for only me to hear.
