TESSA
Joy says Alana usually gets white chocolate and raspberry scones.Do they make white chocolate cake?
Could he be any cuter?They make vanilla cake with white chocolate frosting. They even have some with fruit filling, I text Dean back later that night.
No shit. That would be the raspberry Joy mentioned, huh?
LOL Yep.
Great. That’s what I ordered.
See? I knew you’d be perfect for that task.I pull my legs up onto the couch and turn the volume down on the TV.How was your week at the ranch?
Okay. Normal ranch shit. How about you?
Good. Just busy. Can’t wait until Bella’s back. She’s my partner in crime at the office.
What is it you do exactly? I know you’re in marketing.
I plan and design marketing campaigns for companies.
Like big corporations or…?
All sizes. Because of my experience in ranching, I get a lot of those assignments, but I do a little of everything.
Mind if we take this to an actual call? I’m not a big texter.
Somehow, I expected that. Dean is an old-fashioned guy. The kind who’d prefer face-to-face interaction over using technology, not because technology is out of his wheelhouse, but because he’s just an honest-to-goodness, let’s shake on it kind of guy.
I press the Call button, and he does me one better by suggesting a video chat.
“Hey.” I smile when his face appears on the screen. His scruff is a little thicker than it was in Vegas, and his dark hair has grown out a bit, too. “Why aren’t you out at the bar with the rest of Mason Creek, celebrating the end of the work week?”
He snorts as he props the phone against something and goes to the fridge… in nothing but a pair of shorts. “A ranch doesn’t shut down just because the rest of the world does, sweetness. You know that.” He pulls out a beer and twists off the top.
“I suppose. I’m just saying… you’re a small-town guy. Clearly you enjoy cold beer. Seems like you should be out winding down with your friends instead of ordering birthday cakes and talking to me.”
“Eh, I did plenty of that when I was younger. It gets old after a while.” He tips back the beer, and the thick column of his neck works as he swallows. “Why is a pretty girl like you home on a Friday night, huh?”
“Ah. Touché.” I pull a pillow onto my lap and settle in. “But honestly—and I’ll have to kill you if you tell anyone this—I’m not really a big party girl. I know I come across all outgoing and crazy sometimes, but I love me some wine and TV on a Friday night. Especially in my pajamas.” I tip the phone down to show him my tank top. The silly cat shorts are thankfully covered by the pillow.
Dean chokes and covers his mouth with the back of his hand. “Holy fuck.”
“What?” I glance down at myself to make sure my boobs aren’t popping out or anything.
“Nothing. Just… fuck.” He shakes his head and clears his throat. “You’ve gotta warn a guy before you flash all that cleavage.”
“Oh my god.” I drop my head back and laugh. “Your face was literally smashed between my boobs at the burlesque show. It’s not like you haven’t seen this view before.”
“Yeah, but that was two weeks ago.”
“Oh, so you’re saying my boobs are forgettable. Nice.”
He blinks at me for a beat before a smirk lifts one side of his mouth. “Your tits are anything but forgettable, sweetness. Believe me.”
Heat seeps into my cheeks, especially when I peer down to all the skin he’s showing. I still have no recollection of sleeping together, and I’m afraid to ask if any memories have surfaced for him for fear his answer will disappoint me. It would kill me to know we’d shared more than a bed, and yet it would disappoint me to hear that we hadn’t consummated our apparent marriage.
“You keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna want to do more than talk,” Dean drawls.
