I glare at him. “Oh my God, shut up. I’m not scared of spiders. I just—"
“Like to scream?” He cuts in, trying to contain the grin tugging at his lips.
I narrow my eyes, heat rising to my cheeks. “Startle easily.”
“Sure.” He flicks the gross thing away, his smirk oozing with sex. “That’s what they all say.”
I cross my arms. “It was huge.”
He leans back, considering. “Meh. Decent-sized. But I wouldn’t say huge.”
“Bigger than most I’ve seen,” I counter.
His gaze drops to my lips for half a second. “That’s what they all say too.” His voice softens. "But seriously, tell me about the book.”
My pulse stumbles. “You really want to hear about my silly books? At least that’s how my husband describes them.”
“Yeah. Why not? I'd love to.” His smile is disarming, genuine this time. “Sounds a lot more interesting than talking about oil changes with Louie.”
His curiosity catches me off guard. “Well, reading is my little happy place… even if the characters are running for their lives.”
As I continue to talk, he listens, laughing at my dramatic plot summaries, nodding as I share how books have been my escape from my chaotic childhood and the one stable thing in my life—until Jacob.
He hangs onto every word, his gaze steady as the conversation flows naturally. I find myself telling him more than I meant to, feeling like I’ve known him forever. It’s refreshing having someone really listen. And for once, it has nothing to do with bills, dinner, or who forgot to take out the trash.
Maybe sitting a couple of seats away was the right move. The distance suddenly feels necessary.
Trying to shake off the growing tension, I blurt out. “Enough about me. Does your girlfriend like to read too? Got any cats or dogs? Ghosts or aliens? Guilty pleasures? Siblings?” My face heats up as the words tumble out like a verbal fucking avalanche. Why does he do this to me? With anyone else, I have a filter. With him? My brain-to-mouth connection is completely broken.
His smile falters, and I feel stupid for prying. “Sorry,” I backpedal, “I didn’t mean to grill you with a hundred questions. Let me get back to my serial killers.”
But Dylan doesn’t seem fazed. He moves closer, the faint scent of his cologne—earthy and warm—wraps around me, the same way Jacob’s used to.
“You’re not prying,” he says, his voice low. “As for a girlfriend… no, she doesn’t read.” He pauses over the sound of metal steel grinding, the noise fading into the background. “Because I don’t have one.”
I arch an eyebrow. I would’ve bet he had at least twenty. “Really? No girlfriend?”
“Really.” His lips curve slightly. “And for the others. Catsanddogs. Aliens over ghosts—I’ve got enough ghosts in my past. And guilty pleasures?” He inches forward, his voice dipping lower.“Cute, clumsy women… and listening toThe Little Mermaidsoundtrack when I take bubble baths.”
I laugh and can’t help myself. “You? Bubble baths and Ariel? I don’t buy it, Mr. Motorcycle-Skydiving-Cowboy.The Little Mermaidis my favorite Disney movie.”
“Want proof?” His eyes glint with pure trouble. “I can send a photo next time.”
“Uh, no, thanks, I believe you.” I bite my lip to keep from giggling harder or drooling at picturing him in the bath. “And siblings?”
His expression turns heavier. “Two older sisters and an older brother. But he died a long time ago.”
My chest tightens instantly. “I’m so sorry, Dylan.”
“It is what it is,” he says lightly, but the weight behind it stays. “Now, your turn. Same questions—and your guilty pleasure can’t be me.” He winks, raising his eyebrow.
Before I can answer, his cousin calls his name, breaking whatever moment we had. He steps away, leaving me with uncomfortable thoughts. Shit. I almost forgot why I’m here. I glance down at my phone, the screen lighting up with new messages.
Mom:Jinxy, why aren’t you picking up? Broke things off with Leo. He was a real tool.Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’m heading to New Orleans for a fun girls’ weekend. Happy Birthday to my favorite only daughter. See you when I get back.
Classic Mom. On to the next.
Izzy:Jinx, Happy Birthday! I fuggen love you, Jenna Jinx! I got you a free dance, but mine will be better later.
