Finding Dandelion (Dearest #2)

by Lex Martin

  The corner of his mouth tilts up while he looks for traffic. “I was gonna say you look perfect, but I didn’t want it to go to your head.”

  Warm fuzzies build in my chest, and I remind myself that he’s just being nice.

  And you know what? I’ve decided that’s okay too. There’s nothing wrong with being nice. I’ve hated that description for so long, but I’m done apologizing for who I am.

  #OwnIt

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  - Jax -

  “You want some smashed potatoes?” Dani asks.

  Her leg is propped up on the couch, and like the gentleman I’m trying to be, I’ve even given her full command of the remote control. An array of Thanksgiving food is spread out on the coffee table—everything from turkey and stuffing to green bean casserole and pie.

  “Did you just say smashed potatoes?”

  She grins, light beaming in her eyes. “Maybe.” The little giggle that escapes her mouth is so fucking adorable, I could kiss her. “That’s what my mom and I always call them.” I feign disappointment, which makes her smile widen even more. “Come on. You know you want to call them smashed potatoes now. Give in to the Force.”

  “Are you making a veiled Star Wars reference?”

  “Of course.”

  “So that means you’re not a Trekkie?”

  “No way. Star Trek is for geeks. Star Wars is for cool people.”

  I’ve never seen her this way. Relaxed and funny. Usually, she’s quiet around me. Careful, even.

  Rubbing the scruff on my chin, I ask, “How intense are those drugs you’re taking right now?”

  She laughs, grabbing the remote control and flipping through the channels. “I’ll be honest. They’re pretty good. I can see how addictions form. A little something to take the edge off, and bam! I’m a meth-head with bad teeth and a dealer named Jerry. Ooh! You have hardcore sports channels. Okay, do you want to watch some Pac 10 featuring USC and Arizona or should we go pro with the Bears and Cowboys? I’m thinking pro because Daren’s game is on Saturday, and I want to save my college ball enthusiasm for BC. And then we definitely have to catch the Bulls tonight at eight.”

  She turns to me, and the sight of this gorgeous girl on my couch asking me which game I want to watch on Thanksgiving practically gives me a semi.

  “You like sports?” I ask.

  “Yes. Actually, no.” Her eyes widen dramatically. “I love sports. Like, an all-consuming passion kind of love.”

  All I can do is stare. “Who are you again?” Not only am I fucking thrilled I’m not stuck here watching The Notebook or some other crappy-assed romance, this girl actually wants to watch a game.

  She laughs like this is not a big deal. “Thanksgiving means three things.” She holds up her hand to count. “Vast quantities of carbs, snoozing and sports. In no particular order.” She takes a deep breath and lets her head sink into my leather couch. “I don’t know… Almost dying has a way of putting things in perspective.” Her eyes shift toward me. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even thank you some day for trying to kill me.”

  Dipping her fork into a pile of stuffing, she brings the plate closer to her mouth so she doesn’t have to lean over to shovel it in. I’m not used to seeing girls eat in front of me, and the fact that she seems so excited about the meal makes me grin.

  Pointing at me, she says, “I want to hear about all the trouble you and Daren got into as kids. Your sister told me a story or two. Like, did you guys really cover her bed in worms when you were ten?”

  I shake my head. This girl is cracking me up. “Did Clem bother to tell you that she started the war of worms?”

  “War of worms?” She raises a suspicious eyebrow at me before she scoops up a mouthful of macaroni and cheese, moaning about how good it is. I find myself forgetting about my story as her mouth wraps around the fork.

  Focus, asshole.

  Scrubbing my face, I try to gather my thoughts. “Uh, there’s a creek that runs behind our neighborhood, and the three of us had gone fishing, which was idiotic because there was barely two feet of water. Anyway, Clem took a handful of worms and shoved them down the back of my shirt.”

  “That seems ballsy.”

  “She may or may not have been trying to get back at me for some other brotherly prank. But the worms down the shirt meant war. And Clem likes her things the way she likes her things. She’s all organized and shit, and she hated me touching her stuff. So that’s when I came up with the plan that Daren helped me execute.”

  “So you covered her bed with worms, and when she came home, she freaked?”

  I snicker. “Actually, she was in the bed when we covered it in worms.”

  Dani’s eyes widen and she covers her mouth to muffle a laugh.

  My laughter grows. “Yeah, payback is a bitch.”

  “Oooh, I definitely don’t want to get on your bad side.” Her eyes are playful, and I’m kind of mesmerized by the small flecks of gold that dance in her green irises.

  Her phone buzzes with a series of texts, and she reaches down to grab it. As she reads the one that popped up on the screen, her spine straightens. And then she laughs. Loudly.

  “For a sec, I totally thought I was getting sexts from some random person.” She snorts. Dani holds the phone to her face while she reads in a mocking tone, “Tiffany is very eager to relive last Thanksgiving. And she wants to suck on you like a lollipop.” Her mouth makes a popping sound, and she giggles.

  Holy shit.

  She turns to me. Her eyes widen, and she stammers, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to read your message. Our phones are identical.” She grabs the other one sitting on the coffee table and holds it next to the one in her hand to make a matching set.

  Shifting in my seat, I feel like I should apologize for Tiffany, but Dani turns to me with a huge grin. “May I?” She waves my phone at me. “I want to Out-Skank her.”

  I swallow. “I’m sorry. What?”

  Dani laughs like this isn’t weird at all. “Out-Skank. It’s this game all of my roommates play. We try to see who can send the dirtiest messages. Usually, there’s a prize.” She takes my silence to mean I’m on board.

  Have I been abducted by aliens? Or is this incredibly hot girl on my couch about to sext another chick?

  She holds up my cell, and I swipe my password automatically, barely taking my eyes off her. Then I watch as Dani’s fingers move across the screen.

  She chews on her lip. “The irony here is that I’ve never actually sexted with a guy, but I’ve gotten pretty good at this game because my roommates are all total pervs.” She looks up at me. “Excluding your sister of course.” Then she winks and ducks down to finish sexting Tiffany.

  My head is spinning with a thousand things I want to say, but I’m lost in the way this girl takes everything in stride, the way she makes light of difficult situations, how she somehow manages to make everything okay.

  “There. That will get you a hot date.” She pushes send and sinks back down into the couch with a self-satisfied sigh. “Okay, Jackson, I’m thinking you need to teach me how to play poker. I’m too old to not know.”

  I’m still thinking about the sexting.

  “Jax?” Her brow wrinkles, forming a v in her perfectly smooth skin.

  “Dani, what did you write? In your message?”

  She smirks like she’s some kind of sex goddess and lowers her voice. “I, I mean you, told her that you would love to sink between her thighs and lick—”

  My eyes close. I might be having an aneurysm. Blood roars in my ears, my dick, and my temples. All at once.

  Dani nudges me. “Are you okay?”

  Glad there’s a half-eaten plate of food in my lap, I shift slowly to make room for my third leg.

  “Yeah. So poker? Is that what you wanted me to teach you?”

  Because Dani does not want to have sex with me. Definitely not sex. She’s a good girl. A nice person. She’s just messing around and having fun because she’s on some serious
pain medication. Teaching her how to play poker is a good distraction.

  Fucking get a grip, dickhead.

  “What’s the sudden interest in the game?” I ask, taking a deep breath.

  She rests her elbow up on the arm of the couch and waves toward me. “’Cause if I ever play strip poker, I want to win. Duh.”

  Yeah. My distraction technique isn’t working.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  - Dani -

  All the awkwardness that had built up between Jax and me over the last few months has melted in a gluttony of turkey, pro sports and painkillers. We’re both slouched down on the couch, flicking bottle caps into a bowl while a post-game rundown on ESPN plays in the background.

  “Favorite sports team,” he says as he flips one in. It’s a question, but there’s no inflection in his voice because he’s concentrating on sinking a cap. I’m starting to realize his intensity stems from always wanting to win. It’s there, beneath his skin, like a fever. It’s what must make him such a phenomenal soccer player without appearing to try.

  I quirk my eyebrow at him. “Chicago.”

  “Yeah? Which team?”

  “Teams, plural. The Bears, Bulls and Cubs—the trifecta.” I flick my thumb and the cap sails wide, garnering a grin from Soccer Boy. “Don’t look so damn pleased with yourself. We’re playing a game that drunks attempt in dark alleys.”

  Jax chokes back a laugh before he asks, “What’s wrong with the White Sox?”

  I scoff. “You’ve never been to Chicago, huh?” My next attempt lands in the bowl.

  He shakes his head.

  “Pff.” My mock disgust garners another laugh. “North Siders are Cubs fans. South Siders are Sox fans. Although I had a neighbor once who liked the Sox, but he was an anomaly.”

  “So you’re a Cubs fan even if that means you’ll never win the World Series?”

  “Winning isn’t everything.” I shoot him a dirty look. “It took the Red Sox almost ninety years to win one. You’d think you’d be a little more humble.”

  “Humility is for suckers.” Chuckling, he tilts his head, his handsome face close to mine, and lowers his voice. “We should ice your knee.” I can feel his breath, hot on my cheek. It smells like pumpkins and nutmeg and just a hint of cinnamon. And at this moment, I freaking love pumpkins.

  Jax unfolds his long body from the couch, and I take a moment to appreciate his lean, muscular build. He looks every part the seasoned athlete. It’s in the rhythm of his movement, the way his muscles look coiled tight, ready to spring. He’s graceful for a man. Confident. Relaxed.

  And sexy as hell.

  I’m certainly enjoying having all of his attention. He’s been bringing me food, reminding me to take my meds, and propping up my leg. I never would’ve imagined he’d be this way, so thoughtful, so gentle.

  The thought crosses my mind that I should tell him what happened on his birthday. I almost feel guilty that we have this history he obviously doesn’t remember. But what would I say? We hooked up, but I never told you my name, so I can’t blame you for running off with another girl?

  Yeah, not happening.

  I clamp down on that idea because if I start obsessing about that night, I’ll start acting weird, and we’ve been having such a good time together. If nothing else, we make great friends.

  His movement in the kitchen draws my attention, and I stare unnoticed. I force myself to turn away to keep from drooling. I’d hate to drool on this couch. I’m sure it costs more than my all of my Earthly possessions combined.

  To say his place is decked out is an understatement. Sleek furniture, marble countertops, a fireplace, a huge flatscreen TV and every kind of game console imaginable make his place the bachelor pad of the century. I knew he was loaded, but his condo is ridiculous.

  I’m surprised, but I shouldn’t be. Jax is heir to the Avery throne. That’s how his sister describes it. She says one day he’ll be “richer than God.”

  But I know what Clem’s been through. Her book lays it out. Their parents never gave her or Jax the time of day.

  And isn’t love worth more than money?

  I know I’m rich in ways the Avery twins have never experienced. Because my mom would throw herself in front of an oncoming train for me.

  Picking up my cell, I dial her number.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, darling,” she says, sounding out of breath.

  “Mom, what’s wrong? Why are you breathing so hard?”

  She laughs. “I just ran in the door. You’ll never believe how much food Susan made today.”

  I let her talk, comforted by hearing about the usual drama among her tight group of friends. When Jax returns with an ice pack and a bag of popcorn, I mouth “Mom” and he nods and heads back into the kitchen.

  My mom asks, “How are you feeling, honey? Is your knee better?”

  “The swelling has gone down a bit. Jax is making me ice it every hour for fifteen minutes, which is the schedule his trainer makes him do when he sprains an ankle. I think it’s working.”

  She’s quiet. “Sounds like he’s taking good care of you.”

  There’s more in her comment than I care to address while Jax is ten feet away. “Definitely. So listen,” I say, trying to distract her from what I know she wants to ask, “I think you’ve been right about art. I should switch my major. I don’t know why I haven’t done it sooner.”

  Yes, I do. I didn’t want to be gone from her for so long, but she’s been healthy. She’s in remission. She doesn’t need me shadowing her like a frightened child.

  I continue. “It means summer school to catch up on a few credits, but I think my professor can help me do an independent study that would help me cover more ground quickly.”

  There’s that silence again. Panic starts to rise in me, but then she says, “Excellent. I’m so glad to hear that. What changed your mind?”

  “A silver BMW.” I laugh, and she simply says, “Yes.”

  I know she understands. Almost dying has a way of crystalizing things that should be obvious.

  I look to the empty seat next to me and wonder if Jax is another one of those obvious things in my life that I should simply understand. But I tried to close myself off to him all semester, and that just made me want him more. I don’t know that our time together will lead to anything more than friendship, but right now, that feels pretty good.

  * * *

  A few hours later, I’m ready to knock out, but I feel gross, the stale scent of the hospital clinging to my skin. I look over to Jax, who is sprawled out on the couch next to me. “Hey, would you mind if I took a shower? I can probably balance better now that I’m almost due for another painkiller.”

  He rubs his chin, the scruff making a scratching sound. “Sure thing. Let me help you.”

  “I can do it. I mean, that’s what the crutches are for, right?” His dubious expression makes me snicker. “I’m a big girl. If I need help, I’ll ask, okay?”

  Jax stretches out before he stands up and motions for me to get up. My brace is already on my leg, and I lower it slowly and then grab his outstretched hand.

  “Easy, Dandelion. After icing your knee all day, it’s going to feel better than it should. Now is the time you could most easily reinjure yourself.”

  Ignoring his new nickname for me, I roll my eyes. “Yes, sir.”

  He’s given me a nickname.

  I let him slowly pull me up, and when I’m balanced on my good leg, he grips my waist to steady me. My nose is inches from his chest, and I can’t help but think of the club and the way he pressed me to his body.

  Jesus, he smells good. Clean, crisp. A faint scent of cologne and sexy boy. I’ve never been into how a guy smelled before, but standing here trying to sniff him covertly has me itching to get closer.

  I stare at my feet, pretending to concentrate on keeping my balance as he hands me my crutches. By the time I get to the spacious bathroom, which is nestled in the back of his bedroom, he’s already set my small suitcase o
n the vanity.

  “I’ll hang out in my room so I can hear you if you need anything.” He smiles, and I swear it reaches into my body and makes my stomach flip flop.

  On the way out, he closes the door.

  God, I’m having fun with him. My leg is banged up, my body is sore as hell, and I can’t remember feeling this good.

  Everything about hanging out together has been so easy, but I remind myself he’s doing this because he doesn’t want his sister to be pissed at him. And he feels bad about hitting me with his car. Those thoughts help keep my attraction to him in check as I try to focus on how I’ll clean up without killing myself.

  I sit on the closed seat of the toilet and pull off my leg brace, t-shirt and bra. It takes forever, but I manage to eventually tug off my sweats and undies until all I’m wearing are my purple bruises.

  Even though I’d love to soak in the tub, I don’t think I’d be able to get myself in and out of it, so I decide to play it safe with a shower. I hang a thick terrycloth towel on a hook and reach in to turn on the water. Stretching out this far makes all my muscles ache, a lot, and as I flinch in pain, one of my crutches clatters to the floor. This isn’t a good idea, I realize too late.

  The bang on the door scares the crap out of me, and I nearly lose my grip on the corner of the shower.

  Jax’s voice bellows from his bedroom. “Dani, are you okay? Let me come in. I’ll close my eyes. I swear.”

  I’m barely staying upright, my heart pounding. The door creaks open.

  “I won’t look,” Jax calls out.

  I glance at him, and he has a hand in front of his face so that he can only see the floor in front of him as he moves toward me. In two large strides, he’s at my side.

  “I…I lost my grip.” My voice shakes, and I suddenly feel so weak.

  “It’s okay, babe. I gotcha.” While he keeps one hand in front of his face, his other arm goes around me. “Hang on to me.”

  My hand wraps around his neck, bringing my naked body closer to his. Jax tilts his head away, and I realize it’s so he doesn’t see me.