by Anthology
I stand up straight … levering myself upwards slowly. I lick the last of the batter from my lips, and shoot Dylan a mischievous smile. I’m teasing him within an inch of his life, and I love it.
“Is there something wrong?” I ask, chewing the inside of my lip. I don’t know who stole the real Olivia Hawkins and replaced her with this cheeky minx, but I’m glad they did.
Dylan’s expression is so intense it’s almost frightening. He’s hungry – and not for anything he’s been cooking. I can tell that he’s only got one thing on his mind – what’s under the comfortable, old clothing I stole from his friend’s closet. But for some reason, he’s not willing to fall for my temptations.
“No,” he groans. But then he nods his head – conflicted. “And yes. Very, very yes…”
“Care to share?” I ask. I glance down out of the corner of my eye and notice with a shock that I’m standing with one foot forward, and one to the side. The way my hips are arrowed, I must look like a catwalk model.
“You’re not you, Liv,” Dylan moans, sounding genuinely distressed. “How are you feeling?”
My eyebrows wrinkle. “Fine,” I insist.
But even as the word escapes my mouth, I know it isn’t true. I do feel different. Dylan is right – I’m not me. I might like this version better, but it’s not me.
Dylan raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” His gaze penetrates me. It feels like I’m standing in the burning sun, not underneath his –.
I cock my head to one side. “Your eyes,” I say with a hint of confusion in my voice. “They’re –.”
“No,” Dylan says, his expression hardening. “No distractions. Tell me how you’re feeling.” It sounds like a command, and that’s the only way to take it. I don’t know who Dylan really is, but it’s clear he’s no stranger to power.
I try and stare him down, but it’s no use. “Fine,” I mutter. “It’s your loss.”
“Maybe,” Dylan says in a tone that brooks no dissent. “But prove me wrong.”
I back away from Dylan. No matter the harshness of his words, I still can’t stop thinking about how damn sexy he is. I’m never like this. I might not want to admit it to myself, but Dylan is right. Something’s up with me. I bump into the counter behind me, and rest against it.
I let out a sigh. “You’re right,” I groan. “I’m feeling, gah – I don’t know – different, somehow. Lighter. Like –.”
“Like the voice of caution in your head is turned off?” Dylan asks. He hits the nail on the head. That’s exactly how I feel. I nod.
Dylan’s head falls back – just for a second. “Damn it,” he mutters, with real venom in his voice.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“That I had a beautiful redhead licking waffle batter off my arm?” Dylan says, shooting me a grin. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
My stomach does a backflip. Beautiful?
“That’s a first,” I croak. “Nobody’s ever called me that before.”
“It shouldn’t be,” Dylan replies looking serious. “If you were with me, I’d tell you how gorgeous you are every day. But – and it’s a big but – you’re still under the influence of whatever ended up in your cup yesterday.”
“I –.”
“Don’t you dare try to deny it,” Dylan grins. “While you were out, I had a long, long talk with your friend Katie. Trust me – everything she knows about you, I know.”
I hang my head. Suddenly the rush of sexual tension and excitement that – well – rushed through me a few seconds ago is fading. In its place, I feel embarrassment creeping in. My cheeks are blooming with heat, and that cocky catwalk stance? Yeah – that’s gone.
Maybe Dylan can tell, maybe he can’t – I can’t be sure. But he looks away from me. I needed a break from that perfect stare he keeps shooting me. “Come on, sit down. The bacon is burning.”
The cold back of the wooden chair is a welcome relief from the warmth of embarrassment burning through my body. I shiver a little – but not for long. Before I know it, Dylan is in my space, standing over my shoulder. He sets a plate down in front of me and loads it high with eggs and bacon.
“Waffles coming right up,” Dylan says, glancing down and giving me a wink.
Darn. Even when Dylan’s trying not to flirt, he just can’t help himself. I can’t say I blame him.
I push the food around on my plate. The smell and sound of sizzling waffles fills the room. Before I know it, Dylan’s sitting next to me, a plate stacked high with waffles.
“Dig in,” he grins.
There’s a problem; I’m not hungry. Well – I am, and I’m not all at once. It’s just that right now I’m hankering for another meal entirely.
“Dylan.” I say. The word sounds hard, almost like it’s carrying a sense of finality. He glances up at me, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“What’s up, doll?” Dylan asks. Doll. The cutesy little nickname makes me shiver a little inside. I wonder if he knows that.
“Why are you doing this for me?” I ask. I need to know. There are a hundred other questions I want to ask as well – number one: do you want me? But this is the one I ask.
“Doing what?” Dylan says. He was confused.
“Doing this,” I repeat. I don’t care if it sounds crazy. “Why are you being nice to me? You could have just left me for someone else to deal with: like Katie; or else called an ambulance. But why do this?”
“Call it a Christmas miracle,” Dylan laughs. Beneath his joking expression, I can’t help but think there’s something else going on. It’s like he’s hiding from something.
“Not good enough,” I say flatly. We stare each other down. There’s a tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a bowie knife. It’s like we’re doing battle with our eyes.
Then, just when I think that one of us is about to crack – the doorbell chimes.
Dylan’s cutlery clinks down by the side of his plate. He grins as he stands, like he knows he’s escaping. “Saved by the bell.”
Chapter 4
Liv
As Dylan’s footsteps echo down the hallway, I slump against the wooden backrest of the chair. I let out a frustrated sigh. Just when I thought I was getting to the bottom of things, this gets in the way.
The front door clicks open.
“Where is she?” A familiar voice cries out. Katie. “How’s she doing? If anything happened to her I swear I’ll kill that –”
“Katie,” Dylan’s powerful voice growls out; silencing my friend. I stifle a little grin. I know Katie’s only worried about me, but she’s awfully bossy sometimes. It’s nice to see her get knocked down a peg every now and then. “Chill out. Liv is fine. A little –.”
I hold my breath, wondering if Dylan is going to stab me in the back. I don’t know how I’ll be able to look Katie in the eyes if Dylan tells her how I just acted with him.
“– Jaded; but otherwise okay. She’s in the kitchen.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Katie storms down the hallway like a bat out of hell. She bustles into the kitchen and swamps me in a hug. Her ponytail tickles my nose. “Geez, Liv – you scared the heck out of me. I thought you were –”
“Hey!” I protest mildly. “I’m fine. Look –,” I grin, waving my arms and legs around like a puppet, “two arms, two legs – and everything is working A-OK.”
Katie rustles in her purse. She starts tossing things onto the wooden breakfast table so fast it feels like a flurry of snow. “Tylenol: Aspirin; More ty –”
“Whoa, Katie!” I remark with a grin, leaning forward and plucking something from the pile of medication that’s slowly building on the wooden table. “Bandages? What do you think happened to me?”
Katie sits down with enough force that the wooden chair groans underneath her. She grabs my arm. “Liv: I was worried sick, okay. How are you feeling?”
“I feel just fine!” I grin. The truth is, with a little bit of food inside me, I actually feel pre
tty close to my normal self. And Dylan’s cooking isn’t just fuel; it is a lip-smacking delicious experience. I hold out my hand, dropping the little plastic pack of bandages. “Pinky swear.”
Dylan’s low voice rumbles from the doorway. I look up to see him resting against the doorframe. I can’t help but admire him. He seems to fill the entire space. “Have you heard any news?”
My expression crinkles. I don’t know what he’s talking about. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Katie shakes her head.
“Nothing,” she groans. “Jason has been everywhere, but there’s no sign of him.”
I shiver. It’s a fearful tremor. I think I know who Katie’s referring to. “Russell?” I whisper. “Is that who you’re talking about?”
Dylan and Katie both glance at me like a guilty double act. Katie turns towards me, her face ashen. “Listen, girl, I don’t want you worrying about –”
“You know I will,” I say sternly, cutting across her. “So why don’t you just go right ahead and tell me.”
Katie wrings her hands anxiously. I feel bad, but at the same time,I don’t. I like this new confident me. I don’t know where she’s been all my life.
“I –” Katie stammers.
“He’s a bad cookie – ” Dylan growls, cutting back in. He sounds angry – that faint hint of an Irish accent is coming to the fore. I like it. Words are dancing off his tongue like they are wearing tap shoes. “– a real arsehole. I dinna know who invited him yesterday, but when I find oot, I’m gonna rip –”
I cut Dylan off, too. “But you don’t know where he is.” I say. A silence descends in the room. Dylan shakes his head.
“No, doll, I don’t. But ye need to watch out around him. He’s a real creeper. Ye got work to get to? Tell ye what, I’ll hang around and watch oot for him. I ain’t got nuttin’ better to do…”
I shake my head. “No work. I’m done for the holidays.” I let out a sad little laugh. “Not that I’ve got anything better to do. How lame is that?”
I don’t know how I miss it, probably because I’m wallowing – but Dylan just offered to babysit me at work. That’s got to mean something, right?
“Liv – I’ve got to get back to work,” Katie says, wringing her hands, “I’m half way through my shift, my manager will kill me if I’m out much longer.”
I make a shooing motion with my fingers. “Go, go,” I smile. I’m fine here, with Dylan.” I don’t realize it at first, but my mouth curls up into a shy smile. I wipe it from my face the second I realize what I’m doing, but it’s too late. Katie’s eyebrow is already curling upwards with intrigue.
Katie turns toward Dylan. “Mind giving us a second?”
I glance up at him, too. He raises an eyebrow, but shrugs and leaves. Katie waits a second, and then she leans in close, whispering.
“You like him,” she says. It’s a statement, not a question.
“I –,” I stopped, chest puffing up with outrage. But then a little hiss of air escapes my lips. The truth is, Katie’s right. I do like Dylan. Even if I did half-embarrass myself in front of him a few minutes ago…
“I knew it!” Katie crows. She grabs my hand. “I can have Jason over to our place tonight – if you like?”
I frown with confusion. “What –? Oh.” My mind races with possibilities. My cheeks start to turn color – red.
“It’s your call,” Katie says, shooting me a grin. “Lord knows, it’s been long enough. Are you growing cobwebs down there or wha –?”
“Katie!” I shift in my chair, sitting on my hands. The last thing I want is to have this conversation right now. But I know Katie won’t let me escape it. She’s just that kind of girl.
“So? Take it or leave it?”
I chew my lip.
Katie grins. “I mean, what else are you going to do? Do you really want to be home alone at Christmas?”
“Dylan must have something planned,” I mutter, looking down at the floor. “What would he want with me?”
Katie lets out a clear peal of laughter. “You’re kidding, right? I guess you haven’t seen the way he looks at you, have you?”
I look up sharply. “What are you talking about?”
Katie grins wickedly. “Not telling. I’ll let you figure that one out. You’re a smart girl.” She stands up, and grabs her purse.
Katie starts counting aloud, ticking the numbers off on her fingers.
“Five.”
“Four.”
“Three –” Katie stands up, and the wooden chair scrapes against the ground.
“Two –,” she walks to the doorframe.
Her lips start to move.
I turn my chair. “Wait!”
My cheeks are bristling with heat – but this time I’m not embarrassed. I’m annoyed. Katie played me, and she knows it. She’s beaming with pride. She raises an eyebrow – waiting for it.
“I –”
I pause, choking on the words in my mouth. I wish I could say this without giving Katie the satisfaction.
She grins, lingering in the doorframe. “You?”
“You’re an ass sometimes, you know that?” I grunt. “But fine – have it your way. Get Jason to stay over.”
Katie starts walking down the hallway. She looks at me over her shoulder and shoots me a triumphant grin. “I knew it.”
“You’re an ass.” I mutter.
The front door slams closed behind her. It shakes the entire frame of the house. I guess she heard…
Dylan walks back in a couple of seconds later. “Did you girls argue about something?” He asks with a wrinkled brow.
I shake my head. “Oh, it’s nothing important. Just – do you mind if I stay over tonight?”
Dylan grabs a couple of plates from the table and turns away fast. I can’t be sure, but I swear he’s hiding a smile.
“I was hoping you’d ask,” he says. The comment makes my stomach do a backflip of excitement. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to go out alone – just for a while.” He finishes up hurriedly, as if he’s embarrassed to ask.
“But it’s Christmas!” I reply – as if that means anything more than the nights are long, dark and cold: in short, dangerous.
Dylan set the plates down on the counter next to the basin. He turns to me with a serious look on his face.
“Listen, Liv – I meant what I said. Russell is a bad guy: even around women; especially around women. He’s got a screw loose up there. I’ll feel safer if you stick with me – just for a little while – until my boys find him.”
“Your boys?”
A guarded expression flickers across Dylan’s face. “Question for another day, okay doll?”
I frown. I don’t know why, but Dylan’s cagey response intrigues me. I realize that I don’t really know anything about the guy: who just cooked me breakfast; who just maybe saved my life.
“Okay,” I reply – even though I’m desperate to find out what he’s hiding. The truth is I won’t learn anything unless I stick by Dylan’s side. Plus being next to Dylan is an exciting idea all by itself.
“But you have to make it up to me,” I say, drawing my face into a provocative expression. At least, I hope that’s what it is. I’m no good at this. If I had to flirt to save my life, I wouldn’t have lasted a second in Russell’s hands.
Dylan licks his lips. It’s quick – his tongue just flicks out. I doubt he even knows he did it. I noticed. Maybe I’m better than I thought. “Oh?”
I nod.
“Like I said – it’s Christmas. There are all sorts of things I could be doing,” I lie.
All my friends have already started heading back to their families, and it’s not like I’ve got one of those myself. “So you’re going to have to step up.” I finish. I hold my breath, waiting to see if Dylan will take the bait.
Dylan bites his lip. I can tell he’s interested by my proposal. “Like what kind of things?”
I lean back in my chair, grinning. Hook. Line. Sinker. “That is up to you…”<
br />
“Movie night?” I exclaim, feeling a little crestfallen. Sitting on a ratty old couch in a ratty old house isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I made my proposal to Dylan.
“Well technically,” he replies, hiding a smile, “it is movie evening still: if you think about it.”
“Weasel words…” I fire back.
I mean – the idea of cuddling up next to Dylan’s thick, warm body isn’t exactly unappealing – but I was kind of hoping for something more… exciting. Maybe I’m being stupid: tripping myself up before the ball even gets rolling; falling over before I can walk; and definitely mixing metaphors.
“You know,” I say as Nate crouches down in front of the DVD player, “you never did tell me why you’re doing this.”
“Ain’t enough that I get to curl up next to a cute redhead?” He says with a glint in his eye.
I shake my head. “No,” I reply flatly. I’m pretty sure I managed to stop my lips curling upwards. His compliment kind of made me shiver.
Dylan stares at me for a long time. I start to quail underneath his gaze. It’s like he’s studying me; trying to figure something out. Whatever the question in his mind is, it must be a big one.
“You want the truth?” Dylan says. For once he doesn’t sound quite so cocky. In fact, he sounds downright unsure of himself. “You might not like it.”
“Try me.”
Dylan shrugs. “It’s your funeral,” he says, rolling the words out on his tongue. He stretches the words out, making me wait. “The truth is… I’m on the run.”
My head slumps down. “Dylan!” I hiss, a rush of breath escaping my mouth all at once. I grab a cushion from the couch and throw it in his direction. At least – I try to. It doesn’t go anywhere near. “Stop messing around.”
Dylan stands up. He fixes me with a straight, honest stare. I have to look slightly upwards to meet his gaze. “I’m not joking,” he says.
I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. I was beginning to – not fall for, but at least like this man. “What?”
He shrugs. “You wanted the truth, didn’t you?”
“Not… Not that truth.” I take a step back, suddenly wondering if I’m in danger. Surely, I’m not? “What did you –? Should I be –?”