He kicks off his boots and pulls off his shirt, then holds me in his arms for the rest of the night, not trying another thing. In the morning, when the sun comes up, he’s already gone.
But for the first time ever, I don’t even question whether I’ll see him again. I know I will.
Chapter 10
A few days later, and I’m standing in front of an old-style gas stove in Dax’s house, about to freak out.
I look frantically around the house for something or someone to save me. Nothing pops out from the clutter. Dax’s home could definitely use a woman’s touch. The men of the house have Eagles sheets over the windows. They have an old carburetor as a centerpiece on the kitchen table. There are dirty dishes in the sink and layers of dust on all the surfaces. The house is a total sty, with laundry everywhere.
This is the way they’ve lived most of their lives.
I’m not in Kansas anymore, that’s for sure. I grew up in a spotless home with an electric stove. Stupid me, thinking all I needed to do was turn the switch and the burners would light. I’ve been standing here for ten minutes in Dax’s ultimate man-cave of a home, waiting for something to happen, which is throwing a serious wrench in my plans to impress Dax’s family by making them all dinner tonight. So now, four hungry brothers are going to come back from the shop to a box of uncooked spaghetti, raw meatballs, and a salad.
This isn’t exactly working the way I’d hoped.
“What are you trying to do, burn the house down?” someone snaps from behind me, making me jump.
It’s Vincent, Dax’s youngest brother. But Dax always called him Wob, short for Wobble, because he’s never been the most coordinated of kids. The kid was a walking band-aid, all skinned-knees and scabs, or so Dax once told me. When I was in high school, I’d seen him once at the shop, when he was an innocent and scrawny eleven-year old. Now, he’s almost a perfect copy of high school Dax in every way, except that he’s pierced his ears and eyebrow and his hair is a lot longer. He’s wearing a long-sleeve, black Slipknot t-shirt and baggy jeans despite the fact that it’s probably a hundred degrees today and the Harding’s house doesn’t have air conditioning. I’m sweating like a pig in my camisole and short-shorts, part from the heat and part from the stress, but Wobble looks way cooler than I do.
“I’m trying to make dinner,” I explain dumbly.
In the recent days since Dax and I decided not to sneak around, there hasn’t been much to test us. Probably because when I haven’t been helping my parents pack and Dax hasn’t been at the shop, we’ve been together in his bedroom late at night, enjoying alone time.
Which means some really mind-blowing sex.
This is the first time I’m in Dax’s house, without him, though, and it feels a little like a minefield.
“You’re mom and dad teach at the high school, right?” Wobble mumbles, less-than-thrilled. He pulls the ear buds attached to his phone out of his ears and comes up close to me, a sneer on his face.
I understand that look. I’m sure he was in one of the Deadly Donahues’ classes. My parents taught all the Harding kids. They called those kids hellions. I’m sure my father’s gray hairs are a direct result of Cal, Eric, Tom, and Vincent. But I’m sure the hate was mutual. It’s no wonder those boys used to look at me like I’m infested with worms.
Wobble slides open a drawer and smoothly pulls out a box of matches. “Got to light the pilot,” he drawls, sounding eerily Dax-like.
I wrinkle my nose. “But it is lit,” I protest as he opens the top of the stove. “I—“
I stop when I realize that nope, the blue light that used to be there the last time I checked is definitely out.
“This one goes out all the time,” he explains as he lights it up. He switches it on and the burners light. “Voila.”
“Thank you,” I say, smiling at him gratefully.
And he actually smiles at me, too. “No sweat.” Progress!
He starts to stuff the ear buds back into his ears. The music is so loud, he’ll probably go deaf one day. “You’re listening to Slipknot, huh? They’re cool.”
He nods. “Yep.”
Just when I think that maybe this is going to be okay, the smile morphs into this sly smirk. “Yeah. Well. I got to listen to it loud. I share a bedroom wall with Dax. You’re fucking loud when you come.”
And then he walks away, leaving me with my face red and my mouth hanging open, like a goldfish’s.