AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There are signs that it was first decorated sometime in the eighties—simple things like the pale polished wooden cabinets and a black and white tile kitchen floor—but everything else is simple and modern.
Dean must not be a decorator, but what he does have is well-placed and classic. There are framed newspaper articles and a few awards that Dean must have won on his way from police officer to police chief hanging on the wall. The furniture looks expensive and handcrafted, with a huge plush gray couch that seems like an odd choice for a bachelor. Underneath the flat screen hanging on the wall, there is what I first think is a bookshelf but, on closer inspection, is a collection of vinyl records. So Dean Dixon does have a personality. Interesting.
I turn the corner and walk down the hall, and the first room has an open door and is definitely Brody's. It's a small bedroom with a single bed and posters from bands and movies from his younger years still hanging on the wall. It's the only room with a door that's still open, so the next door must be the master.
I bite my lip, thinking about what Dean's room might look like, and decide to indulge. I reach for the handle, but it swings inward, and I'm standing there with my hand still on the knob, my eyes going wide.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to scare you," Dean says, a towel wrapped around his waist and another over his shoulders. He's drying his hair with it, and droplets of water bead cling to his broad chest.
My cheeks heat, and my pulse pounds in my throat. I'm frozen, not able to move or form words. Dean smiles and it's so damn sexy that it's all I can do not to throw myself at him. He looks like the kind of guy who would catch me, and that's not a good thing. With a deep breath, I force myself to step back, putting my hand to my chest and shaking my head. "Oh, no. Sorry. I just...uh..."
"Just looking for me, huh?" Dean teases. Even from the door, he smells fresh like clean man and soap, and it's all I can do not to breathe him in.
"Yeah," I manage, even though I'm pretty sure there's a lump the size of Texas in my throat.
Dean laughs and turns back to look at me. "Well, now you've found me. You need something, princess?"
His words send a bolt of lightning straight to my core, and my mouth opens, but no sound comes out for a full thirty seconds. “Uh… I forgot, actually.”
"I’m sure it will come to you. Meanwhile, I didn't know if you were hungry or not. But if you want to stay for dinner, then you can help me pick up some Chinese."
I nod. "I'd like that." I avert my eyes finally, even though it's much too late to hide my obvious interest. "Have you…um…seen Brody?"
Dean's expression shuts down once more. "He's out on the front porch having a beer."
I'm not surprised. It figures that the first thing he would do when we got here was find a way to get drunk.
Observing Dean and how his posture changes, a lightbulb goes off in my head. Brody has described his dad as a jerk for as long as I’ve known him, but to me, Dean has been anything but…except when I bring up his son.
So maybe the problem isn’t Dean after all. Maybe the problem is Brody.
But I’m not here to psychoanalyze father and son, so instead, I just give Dean a tight-lipped smile. "Oh, okay. Cool. So when should we head out to pick up the food?"
"How about you go sit with him and let him know we'll be leaving soon, and I'll throw some clothes on."
Or don’t. "Sounds good," I say despite my filthy thoughts. "Um...see you soon."
Dean smiles, and the softness returns. "See you soon, sweetheart."
Sweetheart. Oh god, that's not fair. I can't let that go to my head because the whole situation is just all sorts of wrong. I turn away and make my way back to the living room, grabbing a water bottle from my purse and heading out onto the porch.
The evening sun is painting the neighborhood in gold, and there are the sounds of families echoing along the streets. This is such a quaint little place that I can’t believe it’s the same town that Brody complained about so much. I love it here. It feels quiet—peaceful even—after the hustle and bustle of the city.
The charm wears off for me when I turn to see the man I’m searching for. Brody is leaning against the railing of the porch, smoking a cigarette.
I hate the smell of smoke, and he knows it. "Really? Where did you even get those?”
“Brought ‘em.” He shrugs. "Relax. You're not the boss of me."
I bristle. “Never said I was.”
I don't want to do this, not here and not now. Not when Dean is around the corner, and not when I'm still not sure why Dean and Brody are so at odds. But the fact that he's already being an ass makes it all too easy to argue. I do my best to hold my tongue.
"Listen, I don't want to argue right now. Your dad sent me out here to get your food order. We’re getting Chinese. What do you want?"
Brody drops some of the arrogant act and tries a cajoling one instead, which means he wants something from me. "Well actually, one of my buddies from back in the day texted me and wanted to meet up at the bar. Since you're pissed at me anyway, I'm assuming you don't care if I go?"
There's a moment of excitement thinking about being alone with Dean, but it's quickly followed by worry that I'm going to get into trouble if Brody isn't around to remind me of just why Dean is not someone I can get involved with.
