Page 16

RIVER

“Did you know you’re out of eggs?”

I narrow my eyes at Dean as he walks into the living room, shoving a forkful of food into his gob. “Why are you counting my eggs?”

A shit-eating grin stretches across his mouth, and I’m annoyed by how good he looks even though he has a piece of egg stuck to his lip. “Because I don’t want you to starve. I remember two nights ago when you tried to maim an old man for stealing your pie quite well, and I’d like to avoid a repeat.”

Okay, so maybe I was a little temperamental the other night.

But it was entirely Dean’s fault.

He was the one who got me so worked up I couldn’t not take care of myself, which of course led to mayhem and a late-night workout.

Dean’s eyes roaming over me during my impromptu yoga session had me more awake than ever, and I didn’t fall asleep until nearly sunrise. When I finally peeled myself out of bed the next morning and saw the hole my toy left in the wall, I knew I couldn’t face Dean.

I hightailed it to Making Waves even though it was my day off, skipping breakfast so I didn’t have to risk an unwanted run-in with my roomie. My entire day was off-kilter after that.

Like I said, completely his fault.

“I highly doubt you’re concerned about my eating habits.” I hold my coffee up to my lips and blow on the hot liquid.

It doesn’t take a genius to know he’s been sneaking my eggs and nearly all the other food in the fridge and pantry that’s labeled mine. It’s like the rules we carefully drew mean absolutely nothing to him.

He beams at me as he plops down onto the other end of the couch. It’s that same damn smile he’s been giving me since he moved in, like he knows having him here is killing me.

And it is.

Mentally…physically.

I’m wound tight. Tighter than usual, that’s for damn sure. Having him around is stressing me out. Relaxation is a thing of the past. And I don’t just mean the “chilling with no pants on” or “letting my titties fly free” kind—that’s a whole different level of leisure.

I mean just sitting on my own couch and watching crappy television.

Or walking into my own kitchen and eating a pint of ice cream without feeling his judgment bore into me.

Even simply existing in my own space and not feeling on edge or like a guest in my own apartment.

Don’t even get me started on the way he regularly pads around this place like he is now, dressed in those panty-dropping gray sweats and a plain white t-shirt like he’s some sex god.

I hate every moment of it.

Especially at night when I lie in bed thinking about the fact that Dean Fucking Evans is lying across the hall…and how good it might feel to cross the threshold of his room and curl into bed next to him. To let him touch me with his hands the way he did with his eyes.

To kiss him.

“Thank you for the inventory,” I tell him. “I’ll mark that down for the next time we do our grocery shopping…and you’ll take note of the carefully crafted plan we laid out.”

I give him a short smile, letting him know I’m not taking any more of his shit, including him stealing my food.

He laughs.

He has the fucking audacity to laugh .

“You mean writing our names on our crap like we’re in kindergarten or something? Come on, River. It’s not a big deal if we use each other’s things. I know you use some of my stuff.”

“I don’t use anything of yours.”

He raises his brows, and I work overtime to not let my shoulders drop.

Shit. He knows.

To be fair, it’s his fault I use his things. He just smells so damn good . Like so good I want to bathe in his scent…

So, I do.

I might have started using his bodywash in the shower.

But can I really be blamed? That cedar scent flowing over me…damn. It almost makes me feel not so single and lonely when I use it.

Sad, but true.

“I don’t,” I repeat, maintaining my composure.

He gives me a look like he doesn’t believe me but drops it anyway.

“So,” he starts, pushing his food around and mixing it up. “What’s on your agenda today?”

Luckily, since Dean has lived here, I’ve been distracted by work. I’ve made sure to leave early each day and stay late each night just to avoid extra time with him.

Rude? Yes.

Necessary so I don’t commit murder? Also yes.

I’m sure I could conjure something up and sneak off to the shop, but I could use a day away.

I love Making Waves—it’s my baby—but even I need a breather every so often, and this week has been extra hard. I could use a break.

Besides, I have a feeling after showing up to the shop yesterday when I wasn’t supposed to be there, if Caroline and Maya found out I did it again…well, let’s just say facing their wrath isn’t on my list of things I want to do anytime soon.

“For the first time in a long time, not a damn thing. Do you work?”

He shakes his head. “Summer school doesn’t start until next week.”

“Anything to take care of with the apartment?”

“Stalemate with insurance.”

“You’ll be home today, then?”

He nods. “Yep.”

“Oh.”

He takes a bite of whatever it is of mine he’s eating, chews, and swallows. “Do you want me to get out of your hair after breakfast so you can have the place to yourself?”

And there he goes making me like him just a little bit more again.

Would it make my life easier if I didn’t have him hanging around all the time and was able to truly relax in my own house? Yes.

But am I going to kick him out for the day when he’s already going through all the shit he’s going through? No.

He might be the world’s most obnoxious person, but I’m not cruel.

He stretches his legs out, placing his feet on the coffee table. I reach over and smack at them, but he disregards me, leaving them where they are.

Morris, who’s hiding under the table, snakes his paw out and swats at him, backing me up.

“Son of a…” Dean yanks his feet down, taking the not-so-subtle hint.

He glowers at Morris as he climbs into my lap, curling into a ball and purring.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Just that I had a lazy-fest the other day myself. I bet you could use one too.”

“Are you saying I’m wound tight?”

“Given that you were up doing yoga at midnight the other night, yes.” He peeks over at me with a coy smile. “Unless you weren’t up because you’re stressed and it was something else entirely.”

Not coy. Sinister.

For a split second, I forgot Dean is the devil in disguise.

“I don’t do well with sitting still,” I tell him. “ That’s why I was up doing yoga.” Partial lie. “It had nothing to do with anything else.”

“I’m not good about sitting still either. It’s why I sign up for summer school every year and spend so many hours at the shelter.”

“Shelter?”

He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Where I got this shithead.”

Leo, who’s lazing away on a bed of rocks, lifts his head, and I swear he makes direct eye contact with me like he knows we’re talking about him.

“You weren’t kidding about him being your emotional support turtle?”

“I’m his emotional support handler. And, no. Why would I lie about that?”

“Because it’s weird.”

“Because he’s a turtle?”

“Yes.” I take another careful sip of my coffee. “It wouldn’t be as weird if it was like, I don’t know, a cat or something.”

“Nah.” Dean shakes his head. “I hate cats.”

“Hey!” I point to my lap. “Morris can hear you!”

“I said what I said, Morris.”

Meow.

“Pretty sure that means Feeling’s mutual in cat.”

He chuckles. “You’re probably right.”

“What made you get an emotional support turtle?” Dean opens his mouth to correct me, and I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I wish I had a good story, but I was just walking by the shelter not long after I moved here and saw a sign that said Volunteers Needed . I didn’t know anyone in town yet and still had time before school started, so I figured why not?

I had nothing better to do.” His tone is casual, but the way he glances over at Leo with a smile on his lips tells a different story.

“About a week into volunteering, this little guy was brought in. He was wild captured and taken care of for a couple of years before he was accidentally run over by one of those big Power Wheels cars. His shell was badly cracked, and the family didn’t want to fix him, so they surrendered him to the shelter.

Luckily, he was able to be patched back up, but it can take a long time for a shell to heal.

I felt awful for him. He’s a turtle, you know?

Not some fluffy cat or chubby little puppy.

Nobody was going to give him the time of day.

So, I took him home. He’s been with me since. ”

He puts his hand up to the terrarium and Leo makes his way over to the glass, tapping his head against where Dean’s palm is like they’ve done it a million times before.

My heart melts.

He pulls his hand away, putting his attention back on his plate. “Anyway, I’m not able to go as often during the school year because I’m so busy, but I try to dedicate at least two days a week to the shelter during the summer.”

He might talk like he only walked into the shelter because he was bored, but it’s clear he has a soft spot in his heart for broken things.

He looks over at me, chewing the last of his food. “What?” he asks, swallowing. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”

Only it’s not.

I’m starting to think Dean might not be as bad as I once thought.

Still annoying? Yes.

But maybe there’s more to him than I thought…and that could be dangerous.

“You never answered me,” he says.

“What did you ask?”

“Do you want me to make myself scarce in the apartment today?”

“No.”

“Cool. Want to go do something fun with me, then? Something to help blow off steam and maybe help you relax?”

“Sure.”

Wait…what?

Why did I say that? And why do I mean it?

“You’re kidding.”

I stare up at the red, barn-style building I’ve driven by many times but haven’t ever been inside.

“Nope.”

“ This is what you had in mind?”

“Yep.” He pulls the door open. “Come on.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead.”

“Aren’t we a little too old for this?”