Page 14

DEAN

“What the hell are you staring at?”

The fluff of white fur bores his bright blue, hate-filled gaze into me from the other end of the couch where I’ve been planted all day.

Morris does not like me one bit. He made that clear last night when I got up to use the bathroom and he swatted at me as I made my way down the hall. I’m now sporting two slashes across the top of my left foot that I know will sting later when I put my shoes on for my nightly visit to the gym.

With an annoyed meow , the little shithead picks himself up and saunters off down the hallway, leaving me to enjoy bumming around without being watched.

I look over at Leo, and I swear he rolls his eyes at Morris.

“Same, dude. Same.” I reach over, running my finger along the glass of his terrarium.

He looks as tired as I feel.

It’s not often I take days to just lounge around. I’m not an overly busy man by any means, but I always tend to find something to do to fill my time, like signing up for summer school or my volunteer work with the local animal shelter where I got Leo. Sitting still isn’t my thing.

But today, I needed it.

It’s been a long week, and I’ve been in constant go mode dealing with insurance, Lucy—who I swear is an angel—and the aftermath of nearly burning my own place down.

Shit, I’ve been so busy I forgot to tell my parents about the fire and received a nice phone call from my mother this morning that consisted of a whole lot of swearing and promises of I brought you into this world, Dean Evans, and I can take you out.

I can thank Holland’s big mouth for spilling those beans.

After that horrid wake-up call, I decided a day of doing nothing sounded perfectly acceptable. Especially since I didn’t sleep for shit last night.

I couldn’t stop thinking about River…or how she looked bent over. How she looked practically standing between my legs with nipples as hard as rocks.

I had to fight so fucking hard to not reach out and touch her.

Just like I’ve had to fight hard today to talk myself out of stroking my cock to the image of her ass in the air.

I should be ashamed of myself for conjuring it up so many times, but I refuse. Not when she looked as good as she did.

Stop thinking about it, Dean. It’s a bad idea to go there.

I focus my attention back on the guitar in my hands, plucking at the strings. I’m not the best guitarist there is and I don’t play often, but it’s a good distraction when I’m trying to relax.

Keys slip into the lock on the front door, and Morris races back into the living room, perching by the door just as River pushes it open.

“Hi, baby.” She coos at him like he isn’t the devil in disguise, trading the purse in her hands for him, swooping the cat up and cuddling him close. I can hear his purring all the way from the couch as she scratches under his ears, peppering him with kisses.

Like she can feel my gaze, she turns her eyes to me.

“Oh. Hi.”

Her voice might be flat, but there’s something different in the way she’s looking at me. I can’t quite put my finger on what I’m seeing.

“How was your day?” I ask.

She scrunches her face up. “Can you not?”

“Can I not what? Be civil?”

“Be domestic. It’s weird.”

“Right.” I nod. “My bad. I’ll skip the pleasantries next time and just rip ass as soon as you walk through the door.”

Her eyes widen. “You’ve been farting on my couch?”

I don’t even dignify that with a response.

Instead, I push up from my spot of comfort and set my guitar to the side. I pick up my water glass and make my way into the kitchen to deposit it in the sink.

She sighs. “Sorry. That probably wasn’t an appropriate response.”

Now I’m the one with wide eyes as I turn to her. “Did you just…apologize? To me ?”

She wants to roll her eyes. It’s all over her face. Somehow, she refrains, settling for a poorly repressed sigh as she sets Morris down on the floor. He meows at her, then prances off, heading to his bed beside the TV stand.

River slides her shoes off, then pads farther into the apartment. “Don’t get too excited. I also apologized to the potted plant I ran into in the hallway. You’re not special.” She slips onto the stool at the counter. “Might want to pay attention.”

I pinch my brows together. “Huh?”

She nods toward the glass that’s under the water spigot on the fridge just as it begins to overflow onto my hand.

“Shit!” I yank it away, and it’s a foolish thing to do. Water sloshes everywhere.

I take one step, and my least favorite thing in the world happens: I step in water…with my socks on.

“Son of a bitch!”

River giggles.

Actually giggles .

I whip my head toward her. I’ve never heard a sound like that come out of her before.

If she’s laughing when I’m around, it’s at me, and it can mostly be classified as more of a sarcastic snort than anything else.

“You sounded like Dean.”

“I am Dean.”

This time she does roll her eyes. “Not you Dean. Winchester. The one I actually like.”

“You know, me and that Dean have a lot in common. It’s weird you don’t like me too.”

“I’m sorry, have you seen Jensen Ackles without a shirt on?”

“Have you seen me without a shirt on?”

She purses her lips. “You know I have.”

“And?”

She swallows thickly, the action visible even from here, and wiggles in her seat.

She clears her throat and waves her hand, trying to appear unaffected. “Not impressed.”

“That’s not what your nipples said.” I lift my leg, pulling my wet sock off my foot, then remove the other. I ball them up and shove them into my pocket.

If I were in my own place, I’d toss them on the floor.

I have a feeling that wouldn’t go over too well with River.

“There was a draft.”

“In a bedroom with all the windows closed?”

“Yes,” she says. Then she points across the kitchen. “Second drawer, next to the stove.”

“What?”

She huffs. “Hand towels. Second drawer down, next to the stove. You’re going to need them to clean your mess up. I don’t have paper towels.”

“Did you forget to buy some?”

“No. I just don’t use them at home. Reuse, reduce, recycle and all that. I try to do my part where I can, and paper towels seem pointless when there are perfectly good washable cloth napkins and towels that can be used.”

“That’s…surprising.”

“What is?”

“You being all hipster and whatnot.”

“If being all hipster means giving a shit about the environment, then yeah, I guess I am a ‘hipster.’” She uses air quotes around the word. “Do you need assistance?”

“Are you going to keep talking like that all night?”

“Like what?”

“Just throwing out these random questions like I’m supposed to know what the hell you’re yammering on about.”

“I’m referring to your mess. Do you need help cleaning it up? It’s taking you long enough to do it.”

I shake my head, moving toward the drawer she pointed out, and clean up my mess.

River rises from her stool, moving into the kitchen, stepping around me and having the audacity to side-eye me like I’m the one in her way.

Finished cleaning, I stand to my full height, tossing the towel onto the counter next to me. I lean my back against the granite and cross my arms over my chest, watching as she scuttles around, peeking in all the cabinets and shuffling things around before slamming them closed.

“Are you hangry or something? Need a snack? You sound extra grumpy today.”

“Yes, actually.” She pulls the door of the fridge/freezer open, and it takes all of five seconds before she angrily bangs it closed too. “I’m starving , and there’s nothing to eat in this apartment.”

“Didn’t we just go grocery shopping?”

“Yes, but nothing sounds good.”

Truth is, I’m also starving, and now that we’re bringing up food, my stomach is starting to rumble. I did this same routine three times today before I settled on eating a couple spoonfuls of peanut butter straight from the jar that was clearly marked with…well, not my name.

But I’m not telling her that.

“Let’s go out.”

She crinkles her nose. “Like…together? In…public?”

I pin her with a narrowed stare. “Yes.”

“Where people can see us?”

“River…” I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger.

“Fine, fine,” she relents. “We can go to The Gravy Train. People already know us there, so it won’t be weird if we’re seen together.”

“You’re acting like I’m some sort of leper.”

“You said it, not me.”

I shove away from the counter, brushing past her. “I’ll go get dressed.”

“You mean you’re not going to wear such an orgasm-inducing outfit out and about?”

I spin back around. “You know what? Yeah, I think I will. I mean, you go to the diner looking like shit on a log all the time. Why can’t I?”

She works her jaw back and forth at my lie.

River might not always be dressed up, but she certainly never looks like shit, even when she’s trying to.

“Whatever.” She breezes past me, making her way to the front door. “Just don’t stand too close to me.”

“Oh, I’m standing close—super close. I might even hold your hand just so everyone knows we’re together.”

“Please.” She slips her shoes back on as I stalk toward her, swiping my wallet and phone from the coffee table and stuffing them into my pocket. “Like they’d believe that. We hate each other. Everyone knows it.”

“Good point. You’re not very subtle about your distaste for me.”

“Can you blame me?” she shoots back, grabbing her purse as I pull open the front door and wave her through. “You first. I have the key.”

“Which I still need a copy of,” I remind her as I head into the hall. I’ve asked her every morning and night since I moved in and she’s yet to get me a copy.

“So you’ve said about ten times. It’s on my to-do list.”

“Where? At the very bottom?”

Her grin tells me I’m right.

Before she can pull the door shut all the way, I reach into my pocket, grab the ball of wet socks, and chuck them into the apartment.

“Dean!”

“What?” I say innocently. “I’ll pick ’em up when we get back. I wasn’t going to go to The Gravy Train with wet socks in my pocket.”

“But you’ll bring your turtle there?”

“He’s my emotional support turtle!”