Page 62
“Sneaky.”
I hand her phone back. “Night, Blair.”
She looks down at my name on the screen before meeting my eyes again.
“Night, Dean.”
I force myself out of the Kombi before I forget every reason kissing her is such a bad fucking idea.
Eleven
Blair
The problem with almost-kisses is that your brain has a nasty habit of finishing them for you.
I spend the drive home trying not to think about Dean sitting beside me, taking up space in my car and, apparently, in my head. I definitely don’t spend it wondering whether having his number means I’m allowed to use it.
By the time I walk through my front door, I smell like spilled beer and a questionable combination of liquor. I immediately start shedding clothes, desperate to soak in the bath for hours like I told Dean I would.
In the end, exhaustion wins, and I settle for a long, hot shower instead.
Once I’m clean, I check the locks on the front and back doors before climbing into bed. It’s late, but instead of sleeping, I find myself staring at Dean’s name in my phone.
In case you get lost.
Was that genuinely the only reason he wanted my number?
The pull I feel toward him is unsettling enough. It’s the warmth that comes with it that really scares me. I barely know the man, yet I’m already tempted to invent a reason to head into town tomorrow on the off chance I’ll run into him.
Completely by accident.
Sort of.
Maybe not.
I’m finally about to put my phone down when it vibrates in my hand.
YOUR FAVORITE MECHANIC: Thanks for the ride. Hope you got home safely and didn’t get lost.
I smile at the contact name he gave himself.
ME: It’s remarkably difficult to get lost in this town. Hope your head forgives you tomorrow.
YOUR FAVORITE MECHANIC: The bartender made sure I stayed hydrated.
ME: She sounds like a gem. Goodnight, my favorite mechanic 😉
The three dots appear almost immediately.
YOUR FAVORITE MECHANIC: Goodnight, Blair Bear.
I press my lips together, trying to contain the ridiculous smile spreading across my face.
Logan might have given me the nickname, but somehow, it sounds much sweeter coming from Dean.
That night, I dream of him.
Because apparently, almost kissing the man wasn’t enough torture for one night.
