“Serena,” Dillon whispered again, the only thing he’d said for ages now, a dozen variations of her name on his lips. His lips, which grazed the top of her head, then lower, lower, as he shifted off the back of the sofa and joined her on the floor, barely past the entry way of his home, but a thousand miles from the first time they’d been there together. Her heart tugged at the way he said her name. It was a little scary, that tug.
“See how well I can manage without a condom?” she asked, smugly, and he growled her name again, and proceeded to show her what he could manage, for his part.
Later, post-condom and stretched across his bed, they lay staring at the ceiling, hands idly wandering up and down each other’s arms. Serena traced circles on the inside of his wrist while he proposed various solutions to the problem of dinner when there was no food in the house.
“I’m not super hungry after that brisket.”
“No, well. You didn’t even finish your potato salad.”
“And you didn’t even finish your half of the pecan pie.”
“I was afraid you’d impale me.”
“Impaling is your job.”
“Funny girl.”
“Funny woman, thank you very much.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”
“You can’t call me a girl when I’m older than you.”
“You can call me a boy.”
“Mention C-3PO one more time and I will.”
“Hey, you got his name right!” He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed the back, then turned it over and kissed her palm. “And if I get to call you my girlfriend, I also get to call you my girl. Funny girl is but a short leap from there.”
“Look before you leap, there, kid.” She opened her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows. “This generation gap of ours is beginning to show.”
“You’re three years older than me.”
“I’m a hippie’s child. You’re a total product of the eighties. It’s a significant cultural shift.”
“Next you’ll be blaming me for Reaganomics.”
“You’re the one always going on about Star Wars.”
“Oh, funny, funny, funny girl.”
Serena had no choice but to brain him with a pillow. He inexpertly fended it off, but she somehow still ended up with his long torso pinning her to the bed. Again. It turned out that cheese and crackers and staying in was a perfectly workable plan for the evening meal.
On Sunday, Dillon drove Serena back to her house, but she demurred when he hinted about plans for that day. Keeping his resignation at bay, he contented himself with a few final kisses and headed off to restock his fridge. It gave him some time to take Shannon and Justin’s ‘Toby is asleep, now we can focus on talking’ call, at least.
“She’s so nice, hon, I couldn’t be happier for you,” Shannon started.
“Pretty, too,” Justin chimed in. Damn speakerphones.
“Superficial much?” That was Shannon, not as chirpy.
“I only have eyes for my gorgeous wife. Did you hear that guy at Big Daddy’s whistle when you came in? He said no way had you just had a baby.”
“Sexist pig.”
“You like it anyway, and you know it.”
Dillon sighed. “You two need me for this conversation?”
“Dunno,” Justin said. “You going to tell me what she said about us?”
“Inveterate gossip.”
“I am a student of human nature, my friend, and as such I collect impressions to piece together the greater whole.”
“The greater asshole.”
“That was a cheap shot,” Shannon said, “and nonsense to boot. What did she say about us?”
“Serena liked you guys a lot. Of course, she didn’t see this side of you. I’m sure she’ll change her mind once I fill her in, start giving you the cold shoulder.”
“Hey. Be nice. I had a baby two months ago and I’m shedding hormones left and right. The littlest thing could send me down the rabbit hole.”
“I love you, Shannon,” Dillon and Justin both said at the same time.
She laughed. “Couple of idiots.”
“Idiots who love you. Okay, here’s the full scoop. Serena thinks Toby is gorgeous, of course, and I suspect she thinks Justin is, too, but she didn’t come right out and say it. Fortunately. Gross. She said Justin was funny and could tell why he was so good with people, and that Shannon was amazingly on top of things for being such a new mom, and smart, and beautiful, and strong, and loving, and the best person she’d ever met, hands down.”
“I’m going to hang up on you now.”
“Well, don’t be such gossips. Obviously she liked you guys, who wouldn’t? And she was impressed with your organization. Have you uploaded the photos yet?”
Justin was happily diverted by talking about his camera angles and Dillon let him ramble on a bit before plunging in with his own question.
“What did you really think of Serena?”
“We told you,” Shannon started.
“Yes, nice, pretty,” Dillon mocked. “She’s got a lot more to her than that.”
“We guessed as much when we almost had to send out a search party for you when Toby was done nursing,” Shannon said. She did nothing to hide the smirk in her voice.
“Really, big sis? You want to actually discuss my sex life?”
“God no, don’t be disgusting.”
“Okay, good, because I would hate to remind you that I was only sixteen and you and Justin were far from subtle about disappearing into Mom and Dad’s shower together.”
“Stop it. I do not want to discuss your sex life, I promise. I’m happy to pretend that you’re still a virgin.”
Dillon laughed. “Okay, I’ll pretend the same about you, despite Tobias looking a tiny bit like Justin.”
“Fine. Sex is off the table.”
“Wait, not quite,” Justin put in.
“Dude,” Dillon started at the same time as Shannon clearly slapped at his chest on the other end of the line.
“No, stop it. Not that. Dillon. And I don’t want details. I just want to say this. I get that you two have chemistry—we all get that you two have chemistry, horndog—but I just want you to remember that no matter how long you’ve known Serena, you’ve only been dating for a few weeks. Just be careful not to confuse that chemistry with deeper feelings. You want to stay smart.”
Dillon took a slow, deep breath. No point yelling at Justin when he was only saying what Serena herself had said. Never mind that he was being as careful as he could be not to push her. “Okay thanks, I hear you. No proposal, not this week, at least.”
“Proposal?” Shannon gasped.
“No proposal. I said no proposal.”
“But—sweetie, you’re not even thinking about that, are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be interested in it? I mean, someday. Why date her if I’m not serious? You said you liked her. You said she could be The One.”
“Of course we like her,” Justin put in, and Dillon could practically see the warning look he was giving Shannon. “She’s smart and nice and very easy-going, to spend the day with us like that. And pretty, of course. You’ve picked a good one, dude, and we hope to get to know her better as the months progress.”
“Right. That’s right,” Shannon said.
Dillon took his time responding. “Okay. Good then. Thanks.”
“Don’t think we don’t like her,” Shannon said, more earnest now.
“I don’t. Thanks. Look, guys, I’ve got to go put these groceries away, I’ll talk to you soon. Kiss Toby for me.”
“Right. Bye, dude.”
“We love you, Dillon,” Shannon said.
“Love you, too. Thanks. Bye.” Dillon sat for a moment, thinking over the conversation. He knew Shannon’s voice almost too well. Never mind that she’d been way younger than he was now, still in college and recently not only orphaned but stuck with guardianship of her teenage brother when she and Justin fused at the hip, never to bu
dge again. She was still warning him about moving too fast, and Serena was warning him about moving too fast, and given half a chance, Justin and Jorge and probably friggin’ Emily from HR would warn him about moving too fast. It was frankly pissing him off more than a little that he apparently couldn’t be trusted to know his own mind and his own heart and to know how to navigate his own love life.
If he wanted to fall in love with Serena Colby, no one, not even Serena herself, was allowed to stop him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“You are so full of bull honkey,” Janice said, sotto voce, never mind that they were in the middle of Monday’s production meeting.
Serena narrowed her eyes at her.
“All he did was walk past the door and your head popped up like a prairie dog to track him,” Janice whispered. “Do not tell me this is casual.”
Serena deliberately looked away from the door—which, okay, maybe she had been keeping an eye out, but she hadn’t seen Dillon since he’d dropped her at home the morning before—and from Janice’s impudent smirk. Anica was finishing her rundown of the work in progress and it was just about time for Serena’s update on Blue Capri.
Right. Meeting mode. She passed out a project workplan, highlighting the areas of immediate importance. “They promised a firm decision on the colors by early next week, so you’ll be able to get the cardstock order in pretty soon. I know some of these are long lead times, but they understand that. They’re focused on the copy—you can see from their current site and brochure,” she tapped page two of her workplan, “Mrs. Kirby has sort of the opposite of a way with words. Dillon and I will go down next week so he can work up some room and breakfast descriptions and I can talk her through a few design options.” Serena went on about tie-ins to other historic homes and community events, steadfastly ignoring the way Janice nudged her knee under the table. She texted Dillon once she was secluded in her office again.
* * *
MONDAY 2:48 PM: If you see Janice smirking at you, tell her to stuff it.
Meeting?
Y. She’s on about the B&B trip. Practically waggled her eyebrows at me in front of A & them.
Want me to take her down?
Nice. You’re such a boy.
* * *
TUESDAY 9:08 AM: On for lunch today?
It’s Tues.
?
Tuesday
Oh. You have to go play with your balls, right.
Funny girl
Don’t start with me. Save all that aggro for Miguel
Pretty sure we’ll beat them this time.
No comment.
Funny, funny girl.
* * *
TUESDAY 3:00 PM: Guess who’s the best point guard at Lanigan?
You don’t say?
I don’t say. The words will never pass my lips. If it gets back to Ida, I’m dead, and if I’m dead, you’re dead, funny girl.
You’d better have some good ideas to ensure my silence, then.
…What say I show you my attic tonight?
* * *
WEDNESDAY 11:44 AM: Janice is making me jog at lunch today.
Didn’t you tell her you got enough cardio last night?
Funny man. No. I told her it was getting too hot out for lunch runs.
Hey, can I borrow your car at lunch then?
You better not be getting burritos without me, boyfriend.
On my sacred honor, no. ;)
Is that a winky face? You’re winky facing me?
Just a typo.
You can have the car then. Janice is here. Keys in the middle drawer. Where are you going?
Found this place on Westheimer with organic sheets
Oh
Is that okay?
* * *
WEDNESDAY 12:55 PM: You there? You okay about the sheets?
Yeah! Buy local!
I did. There wasn’t a whiff of corporate about the place
Good then.
* * *
WEDNESDAY 4:02 PM: I’m working late
I’ve got stuff to do, no rush
You can go on home
We drove in. I take your car home, then what’s you plan?
Sorry forgot.
We carpooled every day this week
I know
I’ll wait until you’re ready then
Thx
Don’t you even want to know what color sheets I got?
* * *
THURSDAY 3:19 PM: We should stay at mine tonight
I’m out of shirts at yours—let’s stay at mine
No. I have to make the salad for Eddie’s tmrw, need to stay at mine.
Plus that way you can avoid my organic sheets longer
Don’t be weird. I’m not avoiding.
Weird?
Whatever. Don’t you have that aubergine shirt in the closet?
Is that the dark purple-looking one?
Y
It’s smoky from Natalie’s Chris burning
Well we’ll do laundry then
Had to happen sometime
Domesticity?
Domestic bliss, baby.
Funny man.
* * *
Between Johnnie’s puerile jokes, Eddie’s obvious nudge-nudge wink-winks at the sight of Dillon and Serena arriving together, and the fact that Jorge had declined his invitation to show up, Dillon found Eddie’s back patio less than engaging at burger night. Serena clearly had no time for anyone other than Magnolia, not that he could blame her. Even Mags was having trouble containing Eddie in the midst of this particular group of yahoos. Eddie and Johnnie failed to bring the best out of one another. Which, okay, is probably why Jorge had bailed.
When Serena finally gathered up a couple of empties and headed inside to get more beer, Dillon didn’t even try to hide that he rose to follow her.
Dropping the bottles into recycling, Dillon cornered Serena up against the kitchen counter. “You know, I have this one huge regret in life.”
“Yeah? What’s that then?” she smiled wide, grey eyes sparking as they held his.
“Last time we were in here, I didn’t kiss the hell out of you.”
“Last time we were in here, I was allergic to you.”
“I still wanted to kiss the hell out of you. Besides, I cured you of that.”
Serena’s hands traced patterns up and down Dillon's spine as he leaned in closer to her. “Ah-choo.”
“Funny girl.”
“Funny woman.”
“Right, funny Mrs. Robinson. Stop making jokes and kiss the hell out of me, please, ma’am.”
“You are on thin ice, buddy.”
“Mmmm. Ice. Don’t give me ideas,” Dillon said, leaning towards the cooler for a moment before Serena laughed and tugged him upright and damn if she didn’t kiss the hell out of him at least twice before Eddie came looking for them to offer up a heated defense of his beer can chicken.
For once, Dillon was the first one awake on Saturday morning. He rolled up onto an elbow to look at the light playing with Serena’s face as she slept. One thing about being at the house instead of his townhouse, the mornings came with bird chirps, and no matter what time the neighbors got going, the rumble of their garage doors never penetrated his sleeping brain. Plus she had an eastern exposure window, which may have had something to do with her early to rise habits, but it let a golden light in through the wood slats of the blinds that did some pretty captivating things to the strands of her glossy brown hair.
Dillon smiled softly, then broke into a grin at his mushiness. He did balance his thoughts about Serena’s beauty and the depth of their connection with ones about how fucking hot she was and a bit of chest-beating posturing that his ability to satisfy her was a mark of his extreme manliness. All in an entirely post-feminist way, of course.
He decided to let her sleep, no matter how his cock twitched at the thought of tracing the paths of the slatted sun down her torso. They’d talked of hitting the farmers market later on and he wanted to try finishing up
a freelance project first. If the edits on a geophysical services company’s annual report was more enticing than waking Serena with a dozen kisses or so, Dillon thought, he’d clearly gone mad. But editing first meant more hours hand-in-hand looking at vegetables, so his less and less latent romantic side would be happy.
After putting the kettle on to boil for coffee and her tea when she woke up, Dillon pulled his laptop from his messenger bag and looked around the kitchen. Serena always sat at the breakfast bar, but from the living room window he could watch the leaves fluttering in the wind like the neo-poet he was clearly turning into. Also he could see the front porch railing where she’d once perched, daringly opening her thighs to let him see up her skirt with the neighbors none the wiser, so it was manly, too.
Still grinning, Dillon moved a little table from beside the sofa over to the window and set up his laptop, then grabbed a dining chair along with his coffee. He was a good fifteen pages into the document by the time Serena came in, her freshly showered lavender scent overpowering the remains of his coffee.
“Morning, gorgeous,” he turned to her. “You slept for ages. I must have tired you out while sating my raging lust for you.”
“Hi,” she said, but quietly, and she didn’t bend down for a kiss. “What are you up to?”
“Editing this Schwartz Geo thing. Super fascinating, but I was hoping to get it out of the way before we go to the market. I can leave it until later if you’re ready now. Just let me grab a shower.”
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