Chapter 3

3

DELIA

O nce I get my shoes on and join Dean in the garage, all of the teasing he'd been showing me is gone and he's back to the grouchiness Brody insisted is his full-time personality. I know better, though. All this princess stuff and the way he touches me tell me there's a different sort of man beneath that hard crust.

For now, though, he looks annoyed.

"What's wrong?" I ask. "I thought we were getting takeout?"

"I just got off the phone with Brody," he says, still not looking at me, arms crossed. "You didn't tell me he went out partying. I thought he just went to get beer or something."

"What's the issue?" Frankly, now that I've had some time to think about it, I'm not at all mad that Brody left. He was getting on my nerves anyway.

"The issue is my son left his girlfriend alone to go be an ass with all of his school buddies. I'm fucking pissed he thinks it's okay."

"He's an adult."

"He's an irresponsible little shit, that's what he is. I didn't raise him to be an asshole."

"He's a grown man, so any dumb decisions are his own."

Dean shoots me a dark look. "I can tell him how I feel about his choices."

I laugh. "Good luck with that. He's never listened to anyone a single day in his life as far as I can tell."

Dean frowns, and his jaw tenses. "So he's always treated women like shit? I'm not surprised."

"That's not what I said."

"No, but it's what you meant."

Again, he's not wrong.

"Look, let's not talk about this, okay? I'm not interested in discussing my boyfriend's bad qualities."

"Your ex," Dean corrects. "He's not your boyfriend anymore, is he?"

My mouth drops open. "Excuse me?"

"It's obvious that you two are breaking up, princess. It's written all over your face. What the hell did he do to piss you off and why are you still dating him?"

"You know, I think this conversation is done." I clap my hands together as if that is enough to end the subject. If Brody finds out that Dean already knows he and I are on the verge of splitting, then he's going to be pissed. I'm supposed to be his girlfriend for the holiday. His dad shouldn't find out the truth on the first day. "Which one are we taking?"

Dean looks thrown off, which makes me grin. He looks at the black undercover cruiser, a Charger, and then his motorcycle. "We're obviously taking the cruiser."

I put on a little fake pout. "Oh. I've never been on a motorcycle before. I thought it might be fun."

Dean's lips quirk, and he tilts his head. "Are you telling me you want to ride the bike with me, princess?"

"Maybe."

Dean looks me over like he's never seen a woman before. Finally, he gives me one short laugh, takes the helmet hooked to the bike, and hands it to me.

I'm stunned. I didn't think he'd go through with it. "Wait, are you serious?"

Dead grabs his own helmet, hefting it from hand to hand as he waits on me. "Absolutely."

I bite my lip. "I'm not sure about this."

"Oh, no. No backing out now, princess. You wanted to."

"I know, but..."

"But what?"

"This is a bad idea. This is a very, very bad idea. Like, it's a terrible idea."

"You think so?" He crosses his arms, placing the helmet on the motorcycle seat. "Then why did you ask?"

I look at the helmet, then at the motorcycle. There are so many reasons this is a bad idea. So many. But I want it. Oh, how I want it.

"I guess I was just curious." Why in the world am I backing out now? Where is my sense of adventure? "I mean…really, really want to but…."

That's all he needs to hear, shoving his own helmet on his head. "Good. Put the helmet on."

He swings a leg over the bike and gets situated, looking back at me. "Get on behind me, Delia."

I gulp, my stomach swooping. I shouldn't.

"Come on, princess. Get on the bike. The sooner you're holding on to me, the better."

Shit, his words are just so dirty and delicious. How the hell is this happening to me?

"Okay." I breathe. "Okay."

"Hop on, sweetheart."

I do.

"Wrap your arms around my waist," Dean orders, and I do, the muscles of his stomach tensing.

"I was serious when I said I'd never been on a motorcycle before," I admit. "Is it safe?"

"With me, it is."

I'm not sure what to make of that. I'm not sure what to make of any of this! But I believe him. For some reason, I believe the safest place for me is by his side.

"Hold on, princess. Here we go."

He starts the bike and it rumbles to life, making my whole body vibrate. "Holy shit!"

Dean laughs. "Alright, princess. Time to go. Just relax and let me handle it."

The ride is so much more intense than I could have imagined. The wind in my face, the roar of the bike, and the feeling of holding onto Dean, of my body pressed against his. It's the best thing I've ever experienced. It's colder than I expected, and my hoodie doesn't quite kill the chill as much as I'd like, but Dean radiates heat like a furnace and I'm free to press up against him all I want. I mean, I shouldn't, but I do.

When he stops at stop lights and signs, he always lays his hand over mine, checking on me to make sure I'm still okay. By the time we reach the restaurant, I'm absolutely positive this is not a man who's just going to let his son's girlfriend go. And even though it's so damn wrong, I don't think I want him to.

You just met this guy, Delia Watson! My conscience screams. Stop fantasizing.

Tuning out my inner voice, I tug the helmet off. "You were right," I say, grinning from ear to ear when the engine cuts. "That was incredible. Can we do it again soon?"

"Any time you want." Dean turns back and grins, his face still pink from the cold air. "I knew you'd like it."

I didn't have much time to look at the little town on the way in, and clinging to Dean's back had me way too distracted. So I look around now and almost squeal. It's all so cute! Buildings in all sorts of pastels, and trees with leaves in the orange and reds of fall. I can already smell the food cooking in the Chinese restaurant, and it makes my stomach rumble.

Immediately, I start to wonder what spices they're using and the methods with which they cook, and I have to snap myself out of it. This is not the time to be thinking about work. Not with Dean waiting for me, his thumbs hooked into his pockets.

"I can't believe you let me go on the back of your motorcycle, Mr. Dixon," I tease, my tone flirtatious. I'm still so amped up from the adrenaline of the ride that I can't help but tease him. Dean doesn't seem like one to smile easily, but I get a smirk out of him. Just a little one.

"I'll let you do whatever you want, princess," he promises, his voice a low rumble that sends a bolt of lust straight to my core.

I giggle. "I'm glad. I'm hungry, though, and if you're paying, I'm gonna get a ton of food."

"I'd expect nothing less. What do you want? I'll order while you decide."

I look over the menu mounted above us, tapping my finger on my lips. "Ask the cashier what she suggests. I want all of the best things. Mention a secret menu. All restaurants have them."

Dean gives me an odd look, and I just grin. "You've never worked in food service, have you, Dean?"

"Nope. Lifer in law enforcement here."

I nod sagely, still messing with him. "That explains it."

He shakes his head. "You're something else."

Dean orders, and within 20 minutes, we have the food loaded onto the back of the motorcycle and are headed back to Dean's place. I check my phone a few times, and Brody hasn't texted me a single time. So much for being right back.

But once I've got my arms wrapped around Dean again, my head nestled between his shoulder blades as he drives us home, Brody is the last thing on my mind. In fact, the only thing occupying my brain is Dean. His evergreen scent, the warmth of him, and the memory that is burnt into my thoughts forever—him shirtless in only a towel, calling me sweetheart.

Oh, I'm in so much trouble.

"How'd we do, princess?" Dean asks, cutting the engine once we pull into the garage once more.

I unstrap the bag from the back and heft it, feeling the weight. "Well, it looks like we got about twenty pounds of food, so that should do."

He doesn't quite laugh, but his mouth twitches. "Something like that."

Dean leads me back into the house, and I put the heavy bag on the counter. His kitchen is immaculate, and while the appliances are sparse, there's a plethora of counter space for cooking. Before I leave back for Providence, I'm going to make this man the best meal he's ever had. But for now, Chinese takeout it is.

"I can't believe you didn't even ask what they chose for you," Dean comments, getting out forks for us. "You just took their word for it."

"Who better to pick my food out than the people who work there? Plus, I like a little adventure. Some surprises in life. Don't you?"

He shakes his head once. "No. When you're in my line of work, surprises are the last thing you want to encounter. Sorry if that makes me less interesting."

"Oh, come on." I bump his shoulder playfully. "I think it's sweet you're a bit of a control freak."

I hear him rattling the plates as he pulls them out of the cabinet behind me. "Sweet, huh?"

I turn around and lean against the counter. "Uh-huh."

"You've got me all wrong. Sweetness is not one of my personality traits. But you..." Dean sets the plates on the table, then puts a hand on the small of my back and leans down until our noses almost touch. "You, I think, are sweet as hell."

Something about his tone sounds off to me, but maybe I'm trying desperately to focus on anything besides how close he is. "Why do you sound like that's a bad thing?"

"Because this sweet girl isn't mine." His voice is low and gravelly, and a bolt of heat goes right between my legs.

Swallowing hard, I once again fail to pull away when I know I should. "I mean…I'm not anyone's, really. Brody and I…like you noticed…aren't really a thing anymore. So I'm…sort of available?"

His fingers dig into my back. "Are you fucking with me, princess? Because if you're playing a game with me, then I'll play back."

I shiver. "I'm not playing anything. You know and I know that Brody and I are over. There's no need for either of us to pretend otherwise."

"Then why did he tell me he was bringing his girlfriend to Thanksgiving?"

I shrug, trying to ignore the butterflies in my belly. "It's complicated."

He grunts, backing away from me and gathering the plates once more. I want to ask him to come back, to be close again, but I keep my mouth shut. How many times are we going to skirt the edges of what's appropriate like this?

"I think it's a lot less complicated than you're letting on, princess, but I'm not going to argue. Let's go eat in the living room."

He gestures with his head, and I follow, sitting down on the couch as Dean turns on the TV. I get all of the food out of the brown paper bag, arranging it on the coffee table while he scrolls through the options for entertainment. We settle on a new release on one of the streaming services, something sort of scary, and finally get down to eating.

I check my phone again. Still no Brody. Oh well. I'm starving.

Dean watches me carefully as I load my plate. I pile it high, and he raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment. I can feel him staring at me, but I refuse to be embarrassed. After a moment, he does the same, and I relax, setting the plate in my lap while I eat about a foot away from Dean.

He's got great taste, and the Chinese food is phenomenal. I tell him so, and he barely smiles again. Ugh. What does it take to get some humor from this guy?

"Thanks, princess. I'll tell the chef."

I'm a little disappointed, honestly. He'd been flirty and fun and sexy. Now he's right back to his normal self. The grouchy, grumpy, uncommunicative version. I don't know what to do with that. I'm not even sure why he keeps doing it.

The movie is just starting when Dean gets a text. He scowls, and that expression is all I need to see to know who is messaging him. "Is that Brody?"

"It's Brody. He's at the bar," Dean says, reading the text. "He's asking for a ride."

"A ride? He can't drive himself?"

"No. He's drunk. And apparently, his buddies are too. They're all wasted."

I roll my eyes. "Sounds like Brody. Are you gonna go get him?"

"Fuck no. I told him to figure it out himself." His tone is mocking. "He's a big boy after all."

I nibble at my bottom lip, cleaning up the food to burn off some of the nervousness I'm feeling. I don't blame Dean, but on the other hand, should I be more worried for Brody? Because I'm not. This night has been so cozy that I don't want it to end.

"I mean, if you think it's the right move..."

"It is. He knows plenty of idiots around here. He'll be fine, and this can be his punishment for leaving you all alone."

"Punishment?" I laugh. "I can handle being alone, Dean."

"Sure, but it's still a dick move for him. You're his guest, and he's out fucking around instead of taking care of you. So it falls to me."

I pause in stacking plates, turning to face him. "So are you saying you're only spending this time with me out of obligation?"

His jaw tightens. "No."

"Because that would make a lot more sense than you wanting to spend time with me just because you want to."

Dean sighs. "Sit down, Delia."

Oh, no more princess? It's not a nickname he should be using for his son's ex-girlfriend, but I've started to like it. A lot. I do as he says and settle back onto the couch cushion, still a foot from Dean, but all of a sudden, it doesn't seem far enough.

"I can't pretend I don't want you," he grits out. "But I'm trying to be respectful of how fucked this situation is."

Flustered, I blurt out, "If it helps, the feeling is mutual."

Dean goes silent.

I shake my head., thoughts all over the place. I gather all the dishes, my face burning, and start to put things into the sink. Did I really just admit to wanting him back? Dammit! I need some space. I need to get away from him before I do something I'll regret. But then, I look back into the living room and the hot-as-fuck man sitting there all alone, his shoulders stiff. It makes my heart ache. He's been alone for a long time, I think.

I'm not going to turn my back on him.

Liar. You know you want him too. You just need an excuse.

"I think we need some ice cream," I announce, rummaging through the freezer for something to take the heat down between us.

Dean grunts. "Alright."

Wow, he really is shut down all of a sudden. "Do you want some?"

Another one-word answer. "Yes."

After scooping out the sweet treat, I go back to the couch and sit next to him, closer than I was before. I hand him his bowl, the spoon clinking against the side of it. "Here you go, now let's watch the movie."

Dean doesn't restart the show, though. "Princess."

"Yeah?" Since when do I answer so easily to the pet name?

"We need to talk about this." He waves at the space between the two of us, and I know all too well what he's referencing.

"I know." I sigh. "I'm not sure there's a whole lot to talk about, though."

"There's a whole lot to talk about. You're young and beautiful, and you're my son's ex. But I can't make myself care about any of that when you're here. "

I pause with my spoon halfway to my face. "We've already established he and I are basically done. Now focus. Let's watch the movie."

Dean groans. "You're stubborn as hell, princess."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

The look he gives me is pure fire, but Dean doesn't say a thing. He takes the remote and starts the movie, and even though I feel like I'm going to combust, I force myself to relax and watch.

After a few minutes, the adrenaline starts to fade, and I find myself yawning. I set my empty bowl on the table and snuggle into the corner of the couch, resting my feet on the cushions. I can't help the second yawn that comes, and then the third, and the fourth.

"Tired, princess?"

"Mmmhmmm. The movie is so good. It's scary but not too scary. Just right."

He chuckles. "That's not why you're tired. Do you want to go to bed?"

"No," I mumble. "I'm watching the movie."

Dean stands and walks away, and my heart drops. Is he done with me? I shouldn't be so clingy, and I know that, but I like being around him. I feel safe and comfortable.

I can hear him moving around the house, and the lights flip off, leaving only the light of the television.

"Here," he says and drapes a blanket over me. "Lie down and get some sleep."

It's such a sweet gesture from a man who insists he isn't sweet that it leaves me reeling. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere, sweetheart. Just to the chair."

"Stay," I say, and it sounds more desperate than I meant it to. But he does, sitting back down on the sofa.

"Come here, then," he orders, and the command sends a shiver through me.

I do, lying down with my head on his thigh, and Dean runs his fingers through my hair.

"Go to sleep," he whispers.

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Delia."

"G'night."

My eyes flutter closed, and even though I'm exhausted, it takes a while for me to drift off. Because I can't help thinking, even as I fall asleep, how much better this is than my bed at home. How much better Dean is than Brody.

I wake up sometime in the middle of the night, my body cold. I don't know where I am at first, and panic seizes me. I sit up, and my arm flops to the floor, waking up my brain.

"Shh, princess," Dean murmurs. "You're okay."

"I fell asleep," I mumble, and his fingers stroke the back of my neck.

"I'm aware."

I turn and see him sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you were comfortable. Don't worry about me."

Consciousness bleeds in slowly, and now I'm all too aware of how close his face is to mine like this. So close I could bump my nose against his if I wanted. I wonder what he'd do.

"I'm not worried," I say.

"You're awake now, right? We should get to bed." He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. "There are still a few hours before dawn."

He's not wrong, but I don't want to let go of this moment. Whatever is between us, it feels so fragile, and I don't want to shatter it.

"I don't want to go."

"Neither do I."

Dean's voice is low and rumbly, and it does things to my body that make my nipples pebble under my shirt. "Dean..."

He groans, then moves until our noses touch. "You're going to have to stop saying my name or you're going to drive me insane."

"Maybe," I whisper. "But it feels so good, doesn't it?"

Dean growls, his hand sliding under my chin and holding my head in place as he leans closer. "Be very, very sure this is the path you want to walk down, princess."

"I'm sure."

He kisses me, and the world turns inside out.

His tongue slides across the seam of my lips, and I open for him, letting him devour me. Our tongues meet, and Dean's fingers tighten on my chin, tilting my head to the angle he wants it at.

He's demanding and aggressive. Every time his teeth graze my lip or his tongue tangles with mine, a little whimper escapes me. It's so fucking good.

"Fuck," he groans, pulling back. "Fuck."

"Why did you stop?" I ask, breathless.

"Because I'm not a saint. Because I want to carry you into my bedroom and bury myself inside you, and that is not a good idea. Not tonight."

"It sounds like a good idea to me," I say the words before I can stop myself, and I'm shocked at my own audacity. Holy shit, Delia! You're still a virgin, remember?

Dean shakes his head, leaning his forehead against mine. "I want to, believe me. I want to, but you're not ready."

"Dean..." I whine.

He silences me with another kiss, only breaking it when I'm well and truly breathless.

"Just sleep." Dean pushes me back down and drapes the blanket over me. I watch, a little dazed, as he goes upstairs and then comes back down. I hadn't noticed the pillow or blankets before.

"I'm going to be on the floor. I'm not leaving you."

"You can't stay on the floor all night," I protest.

"Watch me."

The finality in his voice leaves no room for argument. Dean lies down and pulls the blanket over him, and the two of us lie there in silence for a long moment.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay down there?"

"Delia, if you don't shut the fuck up and go to sleep, I'm going to do something to keep your mouth occupied."

Heat flushes through me at his words, and I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from making a sound.

"Goodnight, princess."

I turn and face the couch, squeezing my eyes shut. "Goodnight, Dean."

Despite my exhaustion, it's a long time before I'm able to sleep.