Page 11 of Parentmoon

Those penetrating eyes remain focused on my face a moment, and I’m put in place for questioning him. He did just valiantly slay a dragon for me.

Slipping his hands in his pockets, he dips his head. “You’re safe to shower, my lady.”

After stepping around the peninsula cabinet, he heads for the sliding glass door, head still high, but shoulders hunched. Something presses on them and it’s weightier than a little lizard.

Chapter 4

Each evening at the resort, guests are paired with other visitors to promote a family concept during the meal. My dinner mates include three couples, here on fishing expeditions, and Dallas. Immediately, people assume we are together.

With my mouth popping open, then closing shut, I struggle to define who Dallas and I are to one another and why we are here together. Although, we aren’t together. The painful explanation of how Dallas and I are connected isn’t something I’m ready to share.

So, I’m stumped when Dallas takes my hand, lifts it above the table for all to see, and presses a lingering kiss to my knuckles.

“We’re here for a parentmoon.”

How does he know my word?

However, I’m stuck on the sensation tickling my knuckles. The firmness of Dallas’s mouth. The tenderness of his touch. The fact he kissed my hand, chivalrously and blatantly, for our dinner partners. And how he’s still holding my hand, rubbing the thick pad of his thumb over the space he kissed, like he’s rubbing that kiss into my skin.

One of the women at the table lifts her brows high enough to wrinkle her forehead. Another claps her hands in front of her chest, while a final one asks, “What’s a parentmoon?”

“A vacation after your children get married. They have a honeymoon. We take a parentmoon,” Dallas further explains, tugging at my thoughts.

“How romantic,” the woman clasping her hands together swoons.

“Is that a fishing term?” mutters an older gentleman.

“You stole my word,” I say quietly to Dallas, meeting his gaze. His face feels awfully close to mine, and I glance down at his lips, feeling the pleasant phantom sensation of his mouth on my knuckles once again.

“It’s not the only thing I plan on stealing, darlin’.” He smiles briefly before lifting my hand once more and scraping his teeth over my knuckles. Then he releases my hand and addresses the table again. “Besides, I’m here to protect her from dragons.”

Just what the heck is happening here?

A prickling, tingling, lingering shiver takes over in the spot he kissed. My inner thighs press together, as I wonder how his teeth might feel nipping where my flesh is delicate. Or on the underside of my breast. Maybe the bottom of my feet. Each part of me wants a scrape of those incisors.

Dallas, on the other hand, moves on, entertaining our fellow diners as he tells the lizard-in-the-shower tale. With heat still on my cheeks, I listen as he embellishes the story. When Dallas finishes his exaggerated feat, the table erupts into heavy laughter.

Stifling an awkward chuckle at his antics, I reach for the wine Dallas ordered for me and take a generous drink. Maybe the dark malbec will cool my face and quell the impression of his teeth on my knuckles.

He’s too charming with his knuckle kisses and storytelling.

The conversation shifts to other wild stories of lizards and iguanas, and someone nearly getting chomped by an alligator. Dallas doesn’t look at me again, as if he hadn’t done anything that caused my thighs to squeeze or another part of me to go up in flames.

That’s not the only thing I plan on stealing. Damn him and his innuendo.

His silent avoidance of me reminds me of the times Keli and Michael tried to have video conference calls to discuss the wedding. Dallas would appear on screen, but his online presence was brief. He always seemed distracted, like he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention long enough to glance up and give a facial response. He easily agreed with anything Keli suggested and excused himself before the calls were complete. To me, it always felt like he couldn’t get off the calls fast enough.

When dinner finally ends, the moon is bright, casting a pretty glow over the inky ocean. The sky is black with the creamy orb as its only light. The word moonlight comes to mind as the dazzling shine does indeed illuminate the subdued darkness on the beach. The dining area is artificially lit, and the brightness quickly fades the further one gets from it. I tip my head back and take in the faint pinpricks of stars forming in the blanket over our heads. The soft lap of the calm, night waves is like background music in an unbelievable movie scene. The sway of palm trees adds to the romantic melody.

The night is as beautiful as the daytime view in a completely different way. It’s serene and sensual, begging for people to hold hands, linger here, and kiss long and deep.

Shaking the imagery from my head, I glance toward the ocean dock in the distance where many couples walk for after-dinner strolls. Dallas and I, however, are headed toward his house. The poolside bar remains open, and after dinner he’d asked me if I’d like another drink. I’d declined. Suddenly, I’m exhausted.

My emotions have been a rollercoaster over the last few days, and my imagination seems to hover on a pinnacle before plummeting with concerns about Dallas and his strange behavior.

He walks beside me, escorting me to the house despite the safety on this strip of beach.

“It really is breathtaking here,” I whisper as if I’ll disturb the palm trees dancing in the breeze.