Naomi sent me some photos of the girls’ first school morning, and their joyful smiles tugged at my heart. I felt terrible for yelling at them yesterday. None of this was their fault.
I went through the motions of my shift, which was uneventful. On one level, this was a good thing, since it meant there were no dire emergencies. But it left me with a lot of free time and headspace to think about things—Winnie, my father, my sister, my kids, my behavior—and none of it made me feel good about myself.
After dinner, I finally broke down and sought Justin out in the dorm room where he slept. He was seated at the desk flipping through a binder.
“Hey.” I leaned on the doorframe.
He barely glanced up. “Hey.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me about yesterday?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not my business.” He shrugged. “And Bree told me not to.”
I frowned. “Is she mad at me?”
“No, I wouldn’t say she’s mad. I think she’s hoping you’ll change your mind, but she understands why you feel the way you do.” He flipped a page in the binder. “She knows you.”
I hung around in the doorway another minute, scratching at a nick in the frame. “I was a dick to Winnie yesterday.”
“I figured something must have gone wrong.”
“It did.” When he didn’t ask me what it was, I kept going. “She knew I was upset about something, and when she wouldn’t leave me alone about it, I jumped down her throat.”
He nodded. Turned another page.
“I was mad at my dad and at the situation, and maybe even at my sister for being so trusting, and I took it out on her.” I cringed. “I said something real fucking shitty to her, and I’m sorry about it.”
Justin finally looked up. “Maybe you should be saying this to her, man.”
I exhaled. “Yeah, I know.”
After leaving the station Wednesday morning, I ran some errands and spent the afternoon painting the girls’ bedroom as a surprise for them—the wall behind Luna’s bed pink, the one behind Hallie’s bed lavender.
Dad guilt in all its pastel glory.
I looked at my phone a hundred times, but with every hour that went by, it just got harder to reach out.
Around seven, I called the girls, who told me all about their first couple days at school. Hallie was excited about a new friend she’d made, Luna adored kindergarten so far, and neither of them said a word about Winnie or my grumpy mood the other day—it was like they didn’t even remember it.
But I was sure Winnie hadn’t forgotten a thing.
Finally, just after eight o’clock, I sat down at the foot of my bed and sent her a text.
Sorry about Monday. I was a jerk.
I sent that, and while I was wondering if I should offer an excuse, she replied.
You were.
Exhaling, I texted her again. Can I explain?
You can try.
I don’t want to do it over text. Can I come over?
She didn’t respond right away.
I just got out of the shower.
Give me five minutes.
But I was so anxious to get the apology off my chest, I only gave her three—I didn’t even put shoes on, I just ran over there in bare feet, gray sweatpants, and a white T-shirt.
She answered the door in a short robe that tied at the front, her hair wet and uncombed, and a brush in her hand. She looked so young and pretty without makeup, my breath hitched. But her expression was anything but friendly.
“Come in,” she said tonelessly.
I followed her into her living room. When she sat on one end of the couch, I sat on the other. Rubbed my hands over my knees. Took a breath. “I owe you an apology.”
She began brushing her hair. Pinned me with cool, detached eyes. “Yes. You do.”
“I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve it.”
“You really hurt my feelings.”
“I know.” I swallowed hard. “I could tell.”
“I was just trying to make sure you were okay. As a friend.”
“I wasn’t okay. But that’s no excuse for the things I said.” I took another deep breath. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Winnie. I was angry about something else and lashed out at you. I sincerely apologize.”
“Apology accepted,” she said, tugging at tangles at the back of her head.
Relieved—and grateful she was so understanding and sweet—I leaned over and reached for the brush. “Let me.”
“Huh?”
“Come sit here.” I moved toward the middle of the couch and widened my knees, patting the cushion between them.
She looked a little dubious, but she did as I asked. “You’re going to brush my hair?”
“Yes,” I said, starting at the bottom. “I have to make up for being a jerk to you. And besides, I’m good at this.”
She was silent as I combed through her hair with slow, smooth strokes. It smelled delicious—like coconut.
“How was your interview?” I asked.
“Good.”
“Did she offer you the job?”
“Yes.”
“Did you accept?”
She hesitated. “Yes. I did. But I haven’t even told anyone yet. You’re the first.”
“Congratulations,” I said, even though my heart sank at the thought of her leaving. “You must be really excited.”
“The hotel is undergoing some renovations, so I won’t go until early October, but yes—I’m excited. I think it will be good for me.” She paused. “I think maybe I need a change.”
“Change can be good.” Her hair was all combed out, but I kept brushing it. “Bree said my father wants to see us. He’s got terminal lung cancer. That’s what upset me on Monday.”
“Oh.” She put a hand on my leg. “I’m really sorry, Dex.”
“The last time I saw him was at my mother’s funeral. That was seven years ago. He hadn’t been around before that in years—she had breast cancer and went through treatment alone. Then he showed up all sad and somber, like he gave a fuck.”
She didn’t say anything. Her silence was inviting, and the fact that I could talk without eye contact helped too.
“I guess he’s sober and remarried now. Bree is in touch with his new wife. She asked if we’d consider reconciling with him.”
“That’s got to be a tough decision.”
I exhaled. “Bree feels bad for him. I don’t know if I do or not. What does that say about me?”
“It says you were very hurt by him as a child. And that your feelings are complicated.”
“Yeah.” I watched the bristles slide through her hair. “Bree has always been more forgiving than me. She’s like our mom was.”
“You make being forgiving sound like a bad thing.”
I frowned. “It is where my father is concerned. You can’t trust him to mean what he says. How do we even know he really has cancer?”
“Dex,” she said softly.
But I dug in deeper. “I will never allow him near my children. He forfeited that right years ago.”
“He wants to see the girls too?”
“Yes. And Bree’s kids. She said she’s thinking about it.” I dropped my arms. “But I can’t. And I won’t feel bad about it. I’m protecting them.”
“That’s your right as a father.”
I sighed, tipping my forehead against the back of her head. How did she know exactly what I needed to hear? Again, I was really fucking sad she was moving away. And I didn’t want to think about my family anymore.
Winnie took the brush from my hand and set it aside, then surprised me by circling my wrists and wrapping my arms around her like a blanket. “You’re a good dad, Dex.”
“But I’m a shitty friend.”
“Oh, I don’t know. This was a pretty nice apology.”
“I had to make things right with you. Your face was haunting me.”
She laughe
d gently. “Good.”
Her hair smelled so nice, I couldn’t resist burying my nose in it and inhaling. Or sliding one hand inside her robe. Or pressing my lips to her shoulder. “So have I?”
“Have you what?” she whispered as I moved her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck.
“Made things right.”
“I mean, you’re on the right track . . .” She tilted her head, allowing me to devour one side of her throat. “But it might take some more effort.”
“Yeah?” I pulled the belt on her robe loose and moved both hands to her breasts. She arched her back, pushing them into my hands.
“Dex,” she whispered. “Do you want to come upstairs?”
Without hesitation, I stood up, sweeping her into my arms and heading for the stairs. “How’s this for effort?”
She gasped and looped her arms around my neck. “This is such good effort. Don’t stop.”
I carried her up the stairs. “Last time I came up here, your smoke alarm was going off.”
“This time there’s a real fire,” she murmured, kissing the side of my neck.
I entered her bedroom and placed her on the bed, then opened up her robe and slid her underwear off. Her blinds were open, and moonlight spilled in through the windows, bathing her skin in silver. “Finally. God, you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
I took off my shirt and ditched my pants in record time. Then I climbed onto her bed and stretched out above her, my cock thick and hard between us. “I’ve been thinking about this for days.”
“Me too.” She wrapped her legs around me and slid her hands into my hair. “I would lie here at night and think of you one wall over, and wish you were here. Of course, that was before I got mad at you.”
“I’m here now,” I told her. “And I won’t leave until we’re friends again—no matter what it takes.” Then I stopped moving. “Fuck!”
“What?” She realized before I even said it. “Oh—no condom.”
“No condom.” I started to pull back, but she held on to me.
“Wait,” she said. “I’m okay if you are. I’m on the pill.”
“I haven’t been with anyone since my divorce—and actually a while before that.”
“Then don’t stop,” she whispered, kissing my jaw as she tightened her legs around me. “We’re not quite friends yet.”
Eighteen
Winnie
That night, Dex was surprisingly tender.
I wasn’t sure if it was because he was still trying to make amends or he was just revealing another side of himself, but either way, it was different than it had been before.
He used his mouth on me first—kissing his way from my toes all the way up the backs of my legs and along my inner thighs. He licked me slowly and softly, gently sweeping his tongue over my clit or tracing little circles around it, barely using any pressure at all. He used his fingers too, but didn’t push them in deep. Instead, he teased me with light, shallow strokes, ignoring my impatient wriggling beneath his touch. And he brought his hands to my breasts, brushing his thumbs over my nipples as I arched and writhed, trying to get him to give me what I wanted.
“Dex,” I whimpered, sliding my fingers into his hair. “Don’t tease me.”
He laughed gently, but moved his tongue faster and harder, pinching my nipples, sucking my clit into his mouth.
I came so hard I saw stars, and before I could even breathe again, I was reaching beneath his arms to drag him up my body, frantic with the need to feel him driving into me the way he had before—uncontrollably, desperately, ferociously—but this time with no barrier between us.
But he refused to rush, easing inside me with deliciously slow, measured strokes, giving me a little more each time. When he was buried to the hilt, his eyes closed, like this was heaven to him and nothing had ever felt so good. I inhaled deeply, drunk on the scent of his skin and the way he filled me and the masculine weight of his hips between my thighs. Running my hands down his back over his round, muscular ass, I pulled him in deeper. He groaned and crushed his lips to mine, kissing me passionately before he began to move.
There’s nothing between us, I thought blissfully. We’re as close as two people can possibly be.
And I felt myself unraveling in a way that wasn’t just physical.
Instantly on alert, I spanked him playfully. “What’s with being so gentle?”
“I’m trying very hard tonight,” he replied, his voice tight with the struggle.
“Dex.” I urged him to move faster with my hands and my hips. “Don’t hold back. I want to make you come.”
“Fuck. You don’t know what it does to me when you say that stuff.”
“When I tell you I want your cock?” I said breathlessly. “When I tell you how good it feels inside me?”
He growled angrily, getting rougher. Faster. Harder. Deeper. It was exactly what I needed to keep my feelings locked up where they belonged. This wasn’t about being close to him.
This was about heat. Friction. Desire. Chemistry. Sweat.
His body on mine. His thick, hard cock pumping inside me, rubbing against me, taking me higher, making me gasp and bite and cry out and dig my nails into his muscles. A moment later, he was pouring himself into me, groaning long and loud as my body tightened and pulsed around him.
“Okay,” I panted. “Okay, we’re friends again.”
“Are you sure?” His breathing was ragged and quick. “Because I could come back tomorrow and keep trying to win you over.”
I paused. “Right. Good point. I take it back.”
Laughing, he lifted his chest off me and looked down. “You do?”
“Yes—you’re still a jerk, and you need to go home and think about what you did.”
“Oh, I will.” He pressed his lips to mine. “You can be damn sure of that.”
A little later, I walked him down to the door. “How was the girls’ first day at school? I was thinking about them yesterday.”
“Good. I pick them up Sunday after church. I’m sure they’ll be on your doorstep soon afterward.”
I laughed, pulling my robe closed tighter around me. “I’d like that.”
“They’ll be sad to hear you’re moving.”
“I’m sad to move away too, but the offer is too good to pass up.” I’d been telling myself that for two days.
He nodded. “And you leave when? Early October?”
“Yes. I have to fly back a couple weeks later for that wine tasting dinner I’m co-hosting with Ellie, but the woman who hired me said that was no problem.”
He thought for a moment. “So you have about a month here.”
“Right.” I gave him a flirty grin. “Think you can fully redeem yourself in thirty days?”
“I don’t know,” he said seriously, scratching his head above his right ear. “I mean, you’re pretty hard to please.”
“It’s the new me.” I stood taller. “I’m setting higher standards for myself.”
He took my forearm and pulled me toward him, wrapping me in his arms. “Good. You should.”
With my cheek against his chest, I snuggled against his warm, hard body and waited for him to make another joke, but he didn’t. Tucked in the shelter of his embrace, I felt safe and content—so safe and content, I quickly grew uneasy.
“Okay, time for bed.” Gently, I pushed against his chest and stepped back. “See? This is me being independent. The old me would have asked you to stay the night.”
“And the new you is kicking my ass out?”
I nodded. “Straight to the curb.”
“Good.” He pulled the door open and glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Night.”
Then he was gone, pulling the door closed tight behind him. I was still standing there looking at it when two soft knocks made me jump. I pulled it open.
“I forgot to tell you I don’t love you.” He shrugged. “Given how nice I was tonight, I didn’t want
you to get worried or anything.”
I laughed. “Thanks for the reminder. I don’t love you either.”
But as I went up the stairs, I couldn’t help thinking it was a damn good thing I was moving away soon. Because I might not love him now, but I could.
I easily could.
Around one the following afternoon, I knocked on my Aunt Chloe’s office door.
She looked up from her computer and smiled. “Hey, Win. What can I do for you?”
“Got a minute?” I asked.
“Of course.” She closed her laptop. “Take a seat.”
I perched on the edge of one of the chairs in front of her desk and looked around. Her office was bigger than my dad’s, but just like his, the shelves were full of family photos—a wedding picture of her and Oliver; school photos of their teenagers, Sawyer and Elsa; a professional family photo of them on the beach in coordinating khaki pants and white button-downs.
She followed my line of sight and laughed. “Oh God, that picture. I fought Oliver so hard on those stupid matching outfits, but apparently it’s some sort of Pemberton family tradition.”
“It’s a nice shot,” I said. “Your family is so beautiful. Elsa looks just like you.”
Her sigh was wistful. “Hard to believe she’s in high school now. Time flies.”
I nodded, my fingers twisting together. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Shoot.”
“I was offered a job as head of events at an inn in Newport called The Alexander.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Good for you. Did you take it?”
“I did,” I said, “but it doesn’t start until October, so I’ll be here at least three more weeks. I can help you find someone to replace me, if you’d like.”
She waved a hand in the air. “Don’t worry about that. I’m excited for you! Tell me about the job.”
Relaxing, I described the position to her, and she eagerly opened her laptop and checked out the Alexander’s website.
Ignite: A Grumpy Single Dad Romance Page 18