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I'm not used to lateness. That's one of the points on the list. The men I go for are punctual and always respectful of my time and the commitments we make.
But Dylan isn't a man I'm dating, now is he?
Fifteen minutes past seven o'clock, my mobile phone starts ringing. I pull it off the table straight away, knowing it's Dylan. I count to three before answering. As desperate as I am to know why he isn't here yet, I don't want to appear as if I'm sitting by my phone, waiting for his call.
Even if that's exactly what I was doing.
“Hello.”
“Hey, I can't make it tonight.”
The frustration in his voice curbs my desire to lash out. At least I'm not the only one who's disappointed.
“Is everything all right?”
“Not really. I have one bartender out sick and another one who just didn't bother showing up. Normally the staff are much more reliable than this. I can't leave Mike alone all night. I have to be here.”
“I understand.”
Someone has to manage the bar and clearly that falls on Dylan's shoulders, even though it's his night off.
“I was really looking forward to seeing you,” he murmurs. “Rain check?”
“Of course. I hope your night gets better.”
“Me too. I'd better go. I'll talk to you soon.”
“Bye.”
He hangs up and I put the phone back on the table. I look down at what I'm wearing and think about all the effort I put into tonight's outfit. Then I think about the fact Dylan won't be in my bed later. Dissatisfaction and arousal bounce around inside me, increasing the restless feeling in my body.
I don't want to stay in by myself tonight. I want another night with Dylan. He'll be gone in a few months. He said he has a lot of fantasies to work through with me. Turns out, I've created quite a few of my own in the past three days. My need for him is so overwhelming at this point, I don't know how to push it down. Worse still, I don't know when I can see him again. We didn't make any backup plans and he only has Thursday nights off.
It's funny how I've always considered Dylan the most reckless and unreliable of the people I know. I've never really thought about the fact that he's at Brody's six nights a week, rain, hail, or shine. Not only that, but he manages it – manages the people there and always works harder when the going getstough. He didn't want to be there tonight, that much was obvious. Yet he didn't just shirk his responsibilities the way I imagined he might. And on Saturday night, when things got hectic, he thrived. How come I didn't see that until now?
Before I can think better of it, I grab my phone and head for the car. Dylan may not be coming to me tonight, but I can go to him. Chasing a man who's cancelled a date isn't my style at all. It sends the wrong message to a potential mate. However, nothing about what I'm doing with Dylan is normal for me. It sounded like he could use my help, and I'm over deluding myself about the man and my need for him. I refuse to pretend I'm not desperate to feel his body on mine again tonight.
***
As I walk through Brody's, I worry that I've made a mistake. During the drive here, I convinced myself I was making the right decision to go to him – that he would be grateful for my help. But the moment I see him, I realise what a grave error I might have just made. We were only supposed to be sleeping together and showing up here will surely make me seem desperate. And yes, while I am desperate for another round between the sheets, Dylan might see my desperation as something else.
Moreover, it appears I misunderstood him when he said they were understaffed. The bar isn't overly busy. At first, he did appear to be the only one serving, but then Mike walked out of the kitchen and I realised there were two of them. Dylan seems to have enough time to flirt with the woman he's serving, anyway. He's leaning on the bar and talking to the redhead the same way Sam talked to me last Thursday night, right before he gave me his number.
Dylan passes the woman in front of him a wedge of lime. Instead of sucking on the lime, she puts the wedge in Dylan's mouth and then leans in to suck on it while it's still in his mouth.
Jealously, swift as anything, kicks me hard in the stomach. Even though there's a lime skin firmly between their lips, it still looks like they're kissing. When the redhead pulls away, Dylan takes the lime out of his mouth and smiles. I don't have time to school my features before he glances over and sees me standing there, glued to the spot.
Confusion followed by a flash of guilt flickers across his face, but then he grins and shrugs – as if he's just been caught taking a cookie out of the cookie jar instead of flirting with and practically kissing someone else.
Anger surges through me. He clearly doesn't care that he's been caught. Another quality on my list is fidelity. I want a man I can rely on. A man who won't let me down or leave the way my father did. I would never marry someone who isn't as committed to me as I am to him. He has to be a family man who puts family first.
But I'm supposed to be taking a timeout from the list. Even if I can see now how much of a hard worker he is and how dedicated he is to both Brody's and his job as manager, I cannot afford to lose sight of the fact Dylan James embodies every trait that threatens my security.
There are two ways I can handle the situation.
He raises an eyebrow, clearly curious as to how I'm going to respond to seeing him with the woman at the bar. Technically, he hasn't done anything wrong. We've made no commitment to each other. Hell, we haven't even discussed monogamy. Is the word even in his vocabulary? I don't relish the thought of him sleeping with other women while he's regularly in my bed.
Actually, it would be more accurate to say I hate the thought. The idea of him with another woman...it makes me sick. But I don't have much say in it, do I?
