“You kissed me to make a point?”
“I made it, didn’t I?” She steps forward and puts her hand on my chest. Something softens in her sharp eyes. “Look, Dean. Liv may have thought a ten-second kiss was nice, but she loves the hell out of you. That’s why she told you, because she doesn’t want to have any secrets from you. She loves you that much, enough to confess a huge mistake. But you keep punishing her for it, and you’re going to drive her away. Do you get it?”
Her speech ricochets through my brain. She loves you that much… you’re going to drive her away…
If six days without Liv makes me feel like this, I can’t imagine what—
“Yeah.” I force my fists to unclench. “I get it.”
“So she kissed another guy.” A slight smile curves Kelsey’s lips. “You kissed another woman. Call it even.”
“Am I supposed to tell her about this?”
“I’ll talk to her.” Kelsey turns and starts to leave. Then she stops and looks back at me. “For the record, Dean, I didn’t kiss you just to make a point.”
“Then why?”
“I always suspected it’d be good with you,” she replies. “Thanks for proving me right.”
Then with a wink, she strides through the locker room and out the door.
Fuck.
Women make me crazy.
I grab a clean shirt and jeans from my locker and head for the shower.
It’s snowing when I leave the gym. I toss my duffle in the trunk of Liv’s car and climb into the driver’s seat. I turn on the ignition, then reach down for the lever to push the seat back again. My fingers brush against some cloth.
I pick up whatever it is and pull it out from under the seat. A crumpled shirt? I unfold it. For a second, I can’t process what I’m looking at. I shake out the material. A surge of red-hot anger floods me.
It’s a white chef’s jacket. Hidden under the seat of my wife’s car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Olivia
m fixing myself a plate of spaghetti when a loud knock comes at the door. I glance at the clock. Six p.m. Kelsey isn’t home yet, though she told me this morning she was going to the gym and then to run some errands after work.
I wipe my hands on a towel and go into the foyer. My heart thumps when I peer through the peephole and see Dean standing on the doorstep.
“Let me in, Olivia.” He sounds as if he’s trying to control his tone of voice.
Better to deal with this alone than when Kelsey is here. I unlock the deadbolt and open the door. Nervousness floods me at the sight of him—the scowl on his face, the flop of hair over his forehead, the corded muscles of his neck.
What…
“Is Kelsey here?” he asks.
“No.”
“Good.” He pushes past me, slamming the door behind him before stalking into the living room. The controlled anger radiating from him unnerves me. I know he’s mad, but the past few days should have given him time to calm down.
“Dean?”
He turns and tosses a bundle of white material at me. I hadn’t even realized it was clenched in his fist. I catch it.
My heart plummets. The word Julienne embroidered on the front sears into me, the lingering smells of dill and chocolate clogging my throat. I drop the chef’s jacket at my feet.
“What the fuck, Liv?” Dean spreads his hands, his eyes flashing. “What was that doing in your car? Under the seat?”
My stomach pitches, as if I’m standing on the edge of a huge, black abyss. As if I’m about to fall, knowing the descent will be endless.
“What haven’t you told me?” His voice is tight enough to break.
“I… I went to…”
“Is that his?” he snaps.
“No. I mean, yes, but… God, Dean.” I cover my face with my hands, unable to look at him. I know I can give him nothing but the truth. “I was… I was in Forest Grove one afternoon, picking up some signs for the museum, and I stopped at his restaurant. He showed me around the kitchen, and then he gave me a cooking lesson.”
I feel like I’ve just said “… and then he gave me an orgasm.”
I force myself to lower my hands. Dean hasn’t moved, his gaze dark, his chest heaving with the force of his contained anger.
Guilt splits my heart in half.
“It was nothing,” I say, but the words come out weak, as if I’m trying to convince myself as much as him. “I’m sorry.”
He just stares at me, his hands on his hips. “I remember that day.”
“What?”
“When you came back from Forest Grove. You got into the shower with me. Tasted like chocolate. Then you wanted me to fuck you rough.”
Heat and embarrassment fill my throat. “Dean…”
“What, Liv? Am I wrong?”
I shake my head. He’s not wrong. That is exactly what happened. Exactly what I’d wanted.
“You know…” I swallow hard. “You know you’re the only person I’d ever ask for anything like that.”
“I knew that once. Before you spent the afternoon with another man, then came home and asked me to fuck you.”
“For the love of God, Dean. I cooked! I didn’t engage in foreplay.”