Page 59 of Reality With You (Arden Beach #1)

When Dylan put the pitcher back down, she reached out and lightly traced the scar with her fingertips. He seemed to shiver a little under her touch but didn’t pull away.

“It looks worse than it is,” Dylan reassured her.

Lennon frowned. “I wish I’d been here.”

“You were.”

She looked at him questioningly. He gently took her hand, kissing her knuckles, then pressed it against his chest where his heart beat against her skin. Hers felt like it may completely burst inside her.

“You have some new ones, too,” Dylan commented, turning her hand over to expose the small butterfly tattoo on her wrist she’d gotten her first year in New York.

A symbol for leaving the safety of what she knew to grow into something better.

A little cheesy, but she loved it anyway.

Dylan rubbed his calloused thumb over it.

“Guess we both missed a lot.”

“I want to hear all about it,” Dylan told her, still holding her hand. “From you, not secondhand from Erin. Girl code or whatever kept her from giving me too many details.”

Lennon smiled. “Pretty sure she did the same with you. Sister code.” She admired their joined hands. “I want to hear about yours, too.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched slightly, but he gave a slight nod. “Whenever you’re ready.”

They needed to have that conversation, but not now. As he released her hand, she read the clock on the stove. “What time is your meeting with the board?”

Dylan scraped his fork across the plate, shoving some of his eggs onto a thick piece of pancake. “Not ’til later this afternoon.”

“My offer stands to start that riot if they don’t agree to take you back.”

He smiled, but it was weak. Doubt weighed it down.

Lennon gently bumped his shoulder with hers. “Hey. You’ve done everything you can. What is it you told me? If they can’t see the good thing they have in front of them, that’s on them, not you.”

His brow lowered. “I don’t remember that. It was early, I was busy absolutely killing it at a golf tournament, and some girl on a train interrupted me …”

Lennon shoved her shoulder into his harder this time and he laughed.

As she reached the last few bites of food on her plate, she realized her eyes had been bigger than her stomach.

Lennon held one of the strawberry slices up to his mouth to pawn it off on him.

Dylan parted his lips, and she gently placed it between his teeth.

His tongue scooped it into his mouth, making something stir low in her torso, awakening a different kind of hunger.

Her hand remained poised at his lips, red juice slowly sliding down her fingers as she watched him, her eyes glazing over with desire.

Dylan noticed, his own darkening.

Placing his fork down, he gently caught her hand in his, then leaned forward.

He took her thumb in his mouth, his warm tongue rolling over the pad of her finger, sending a shot of heat straight up between her legs.

After a moment, he dragged his lips away, then did the same thing to her index finger.

When he finished, he pressed a soft kiss to her palm.

Lennon swallowed, nearly swaying on the stool. Voice low, she asked, “Are there any other rooms you haven’t shown me yet?”

Following a tour of the movie room, home gym, and game room—Lennon particularly loved the pool table—they ended up in his spacious shower again. That was quickly becoming one of her favorite spots, the water reminding her of the way this had all started in the pool the night before.

They would have to go back there at some point.

When she stepped out, Dylan wrapped her in a warm towel, closing his arms around her from behind. “How are these always so warm?” she asked. “Like they’re fresh out of the dryer.”

“Towel warmers,” Dylan answered, gesturing to the metal racks on the wall. He placed a kiss on her damp shoulder before grabbing a towel for himself.

As she tightened the towel around her, Lennon padded over to where her dress hung from one of the racks. Sure enough, it was dry and toasty. “This is amazing.”

“I know, right?” Dylan wiggled his eyebrows. “You think that’s amazing—” He walked over to a small tablet hanging on the wall beside his vanity. He tapped something, but nothing seemed to happen. “Wait for it.”

After a few seconds, warmth began to radiate under her bare feet. Lennon gasped, looking down at the floor, then back up at him, his face lighting up like an excited child. “The floors are heated ?”

“The floors are heated.”

“Get the fuck out of here. Who needs that in Florida?”

“No one but it’s awesome.”

“It’s amazing.”

Lennon flexed her toes against the warm tile, and he chuckled as he began to dry his hair. She caught sight of the clock embedded in the mirror. A quarter to twelve. She opened her mouth to ask if he wanted moral support at the meeting later when the realization kicked her in the stomach. “Shit.”

Dylan tugged the towel back, peering at her through the sides hanging around his face. “What?”

“I forgot I have a job interview today. In a couple of hours. I need to run back to my apartment and get ready. Shit. ” Lennon quickly patted herself dry, then let the towel drop to the floor.

She grabbed her bra and panties from the heated towel rack.

The warmth was soothing as she pressed the fabric to her skin.

“What’s the job?” Dylan asked as he continued to towel off.

“Cocktail waitress at some fancy schmancy rooftop bar. I hear the tips are pretty good. I’m going to need them after that throw-down at the wedding airs.

I doubt anyone is going to want to give me a record deal, and I’m not holding my breath for an invitation back for season two.

” As Lennon reached for her dress, her fingertips barely missed it as Dylan tugged at her other hand, holding her back.

She turned, looking up at his mischievous smile and damp, disheveled hair, the towel now hanging loose on his hips. And dangerously low.

“Hey. You’ll get a record deal. No matter what happens with the show, it won’t erase your talent or how amazing you are.” He intertwined his fingers with hers. Her knees melted.

“You’re only saying that because you want to sleep with me,” Lennon joked.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Dylan pulled her around to face him, snaking the fingers of his other hand through hers, too. His thumbs caressed her skin as his bare chest pressed against hers. Her willpower to leave was rapidly melting.

“Just questioning your motives,” she said, eying his lips.

“That’s fair. I am morally corrupt by the league’s standards,” Dylan pointed out in a low, rasping tone. It reverberated in her core.

“Exactly. How can I—” Lennon lost track of her sentence when his mouth dipped to her neck.

“Trust someone like that,” she finally muttered after a moment.

A stupid smile bloomed on her lips as she leaned into him.

He smelled of fresh soap. He made her heart flutter, even when her life was seemingly falling apart around her.

She wanted to curl up with him for the rest of the day.

Why did the interview for a job she didn’t even want, have to be today ?

“Does that mean you wouldn’t like to have dinner with me later, then?” Dylan whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her. “I know someone who’s gotten pretty good at cooking.” She felt his lopsided grin against her cheek.

“Who?” Lennon questioned, and he squeezed her hands.

“The guy who made you pancakes.”

Lennon waited a beat. “You’ll have to be more specific.

” Dylan nipped at her earlobe, eliciting a string of giggles from her throat.

He went back to sucking on her neck. “Careful. I can’t show up to an interview with a giant hickey on my neck.

” He began sucking harder, and she laughed, pulling at his hold on her as she tried to escape. “Stop it!”

Through their laughter and her attempt to wriggle away from him, a soft chime rang in the background. It took a few seconds for it to register. “Hold on—what is that?”

Dylan raised his head, listening. When it chimed again, he said, “Someone’s at the gate.

” He planted a kiss on her lips, then released her hands as he walked back over to the wall-mounted tablet.

He tapped open the notification to a surveillance shot of a red convertible.

He turned to Lennon, his expression hard. “It’s Kelsey.”

All the joy drained from her body. “What the hell does she want? How did she even know where you live?”

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ll tell her to leave.”

“Wait—" Lennon said, and his finger froze over the touchscreen. “Let’s find out what she wants first.”

Reluctantly, Dylan tapped the button to speak to her. “What are you doing here, Kelsey?”

“Dylan, hi—” Kelsey lifted her sunglasses, perching them in her blonde hair, and leaned into her forearm across the window. She smiled directly into the camera. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?”

“You know, to clear the air. Plus, I have something to ask you.”

“I’m busy right now—”

“It’ll just take a sec. I think you’re really going to want to hear this.”

Now, her interest was piqued. Lennon waved at Dylan to get his attention. When he looked at her, she mouthed, “Let her in.”

Dylan didn’t seem as curious, his brow crinkling in a “why” fashion, but when she urged him again, he sighed. “I’ll be down in a few.” He pressed another button to open the gate.

Lennon watched Kelsey smile with satisfaction and then punch the gas on her two-seater convertible.

“I don’t know what she could ask that would be worth our time,” Dylan said.

“Me either. If she has something up her sleeve, we should find out what it is, even if it’s just a clue to her next move or the narrative she’s planning to spin on this whole thing.”

Dylan released another sigh, leaning back against the vanity. He stretched his long, bare legs out in front of him as he folded his arms. “Why did we sign up for this show again?”

“Because we thought it would help us get our lives back on track,” Lennon said sardonically. “It’s going great so far.”

His eyes softened. “At least it brought you back to me.”

Lennon’s heart cartwheeled. “There’s that.” As she stepped closer, Dylan opened his arms and Lennon folded into them. She laid her cheek against his damp chest as he kissed the top of her head, stealing a few more moments in their peaceful bubble.