Dylan (Bachelors of the Ridge #1) (8 page)

U
ntil two weeks ago
, my apartment had never felt empty or lonely. Being alone … that was something I was definitely accustomed to. But being alone by
choice
was different than
lonely
. Lonely was sad and shlumpy, like sweatpants and a carton of ice cream and talking to your pet just to hear the sound of your own voice. I hadn’t done
that
since I was twelve when the foster home I’d lived in that year gave me two cats to converse with.

But the first time I’d felt the yawning emptiness was the night I got home from Garrett’s place. The sounds of the neighbors above and on either side of me only added sharp punctuation to the fact that no one waited for me.

And not that I ever really discussed my loner-extravaganza lifestyle with anyone, but if I did, they probably wouldn’t believe that it hadn’t truly bothered me until recently. The introvert in me relished coming home to my place, a place that no one told me what to do or how to act or dress. Where I could have cereal three meals a day if I wanted, regardless of how expensive each box was.

Something had shifted though, like someone had slipped a cog out of place. Tonight wasn’t my night at the bar, and I’d been home from the clinic for a couple hours. Nothing on TV held my interest, and I found myself standing over the kitchen sink, eating my second bowl of Fruit Loops.

I missed him. Or them.
That’s
what had changed; the absence of something good and wonderful was making my day to day routine suddenly seem sad.

The empty cereal bowl clattered into the sink when I dropped it. Without thinking too much, I snatched my car keys and raced out into the parking lot. On the drive over to Dylan’s new place, my mind raced.

“It’s not silly to drop by a friend’s house,” I said into the interior of the car. “People do it every day, and no one dies of embarrassment.”

The vocal affirmation was enough to make me stomp on the gas pedal, the roar of my car engine making me smile. This would be easy enough. If he opened the door and smiled at me, then I was okay to go inside. Say hi. See his new place. Offer to help unpack a box or two, and then I could go.

But my heart started thudding erratically in my chest. Was my left arm tingling? I shook it out. Nope. No heart attack.

When I pulled into The Ridge and onto his street, which was just two down from Garrett’s, I thought I might pass out based on the amount of blood that was rushing from my head down to my toes. For a brief moment, I considered whipping a U-turn in the road and hauling back to my place, but I couldn’t. It was complete insanity that a twenty-four year old woman couldn’t just casually and coolly stop by her friend’s house after he moved in. So, he was my boss. Whatevs. He wouldn’t fire me for it.

I groaned. At least, I didn’t think he would.

My car slowed to a stop and I shook my head before cranking the wheel and pulling into the driveway behind his truck. Before I opened the door, I stared at the white siding and brown river rock of his condo. Everything about this felt so grown-up, which was a common issue for me. Most days, I still felt like a little kid. No clue what I was doing, how I was supposed to make everything work, get through my days, without someone telling me what to do.

But this was something I could do, and despite the nerves fluttering through my stomach, I trusted that Dylan would open the door with a smile. I trusted that nowhere on his face would I find annoyance at seeing me.

That’s exactly the thought that helped me stand from the car and march past his truck and hop up the steps to the front porch. I could hear his voice behind the glossy, black front door, the low tone that was so uniquely his made my stomach flutter in a totally different way.

“Don’t wuss out now,” I whispered. I lifted my hand and knocked firmly on the door, taking a step backward so that he wasn’t greeted by my nose shoved into his chest. Not, of course, that it wouldn’t be a nice place for my nose to be. I knew from that stupid, stupid hug that he smelled warm and spicy and … “Damn it, damn it,
damn it
, Kat.”

The door swung open and I held my breath. He grinned back at me, and I let it out in a rush.

“Hey, stranger. What are you doing here?” Dylan immediately stepped back and gestured for me to come in. The space was big. And full of boxes. Underneath the stacks, I could see dark hardwood floors. But that was about it.

I turned back to him. “It’s … nice.”

We stared at each other for a second, and then started laughing. Dylan turned to walk into the living area, and there was a futon up against the wall. It faced a large screen TV that sat on the carpeted floor.

“I seem to suck at unpacking. And since Leonidas and I are men of simple tastes, I can’t make myself get the lead out on the nights that I am home.”

He seemed embarrassed by it, not meeting my eyes, and I felt my smile spread a little wider. Seeing Dylan Steadman embarrassed had suddenly become my favorite look of his. The chiseled cheekbones held a touch of pink, and I wanted to press my hands against the skin to see if it felt warm.

“Well,” I said lightly, “I happen to be pretty good at unpacking. Would you like some help?”

Then his eyes lifted, the force of the blue in his irises slicing through me like I was melted butter. He nodded. “That would be great. Thanks.”

We started in the kitchen after I’d turned some music on with my phone. His eyebrows lifted slightly at my choice.

“What?”

“You surprise me sometimes.” Dylan shrugged from where he was standing on the opposite side of the island. “Just seems so
country
for you.”

“It’s bluegrass,” I clarified. His answering grin made my stupid heart clench. How was he
not married
? Or at the very least surrounded by a harem of impregnated women who’d fallen prey to his dimple. “And when I moved here, I heard it on the radio and really liked it. I don’t know. It’s honest. But not as cheesy as country can be sometimes.”

“When did you move here again?” He said it casually enough, but I could see the way his movements slowed while I organized silverware into the middle drawer. My pulse skipped, and I could feel a hot flush cover my skin. I hated this part. It’s why I never got past the surface stuff with anyone.

“Right before I turned nineteen.”

“For school? They didn’t have vet tech school in Nebraska?”

My eyes flicked up to his. He’d remembered. I just shook my head and moved the box that I’d just emptied into the hallway leading to his laundry room. “I was ready for a change.”

I saw him nod, could tell he wanted to press. But he didn’t. I let out a relieved breath and moved on. Leonidas woke up at some point while we were working through the last boxes in the kitchen, arguing over which side of the sink the glasses should be kept.

“The right.” I said it firmly, planting my hands on my hips. But Dylan shook his head, sliding the box down the counter to the left of the sink.

“Left.”

“That makes no sense,” I cried. When he grinned, I huffed, leaning across him to grab the box again. But he held up a hand and leaned away. Probably good, because I would have all but shoved the goods in his face if I’d leaned across him far enough to grab the box.

While he started pulling open the box, I snuck a covert look down at my plain purple tank top. Okay. So there weren’t a ton of goods to shove anywhere, but still. Everything would have been, like …
pressed
. Against him. When I cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair, he looked over at me.

“You need a drink?”

“That would be fantastic,” I said on a rush, hurrying over to the fridge. All that greeted me were two pizza delivery boxes, a takeout container from the bar, two water bottles and a growler of beer. “This is
pathetic,
Dylan
.
”

“Tell me about it. I can’t seem to find the motivation to do a real grocery shopping trip.”

“And you’re sure you’re not my age?” I asked skeptically, lifting the lid of the top pizza box. The heat of his side pressed against me, and he tapped my back to move past me. I practically crawled into the empty fridge to let him by.

“I tell you what,” he said resolutely. I closed the door of the fridge after grabbing a bottle of water and leaned up against the island behind me. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest in a way that made his biceps pop. “You tell me what brought you to Colorado, and I’ll tell you how old I am.”

I laughed. “That’s an easy trade.” His eyebrow quirked, but he waited. I rolled my eyes and took another sip of water. This I could share pretty easily. “Fine. The mountains. That’s why I came to Colorado.”

“The
real
reason.”

“It is.” I kept his eye contact, because this was actually true. But he didn’t budge. When I heaved a dramatic sigh, one side of his lips quirked. “I’m serious. When you’re from Nebraska, and all you’re used to is flat fields? These mountains seem magical. I just wanted … I don’t know.” I looked around his kitchen like it would answer the question for me. No one had ever asked me to answer that particular question. Granted, I’d only been here for a little over five years, but it was true. No one had asked
why
I was there. And standing across from Dylan in his kitchen, I actually wanted to be honest. “I wanted something bigger for my life. In my life. I’d never had that before. And if I didn’t do it, it
never
would have happened for me.”

I saw the surprise make his face go blank, and it made me fidget where I stood. So I picked up the water bottle in one hand and leaned down to lift Leonidas in the other, cuddling him to my chest while I walked toward the futon. Dylan’s silence pounded in my head, and I masked it by smoothing my hand down Leonidas’s back, focusing on the tight muscles along his spine while I sat on the thin, black cushion of the futon.

Leonidas licked at the top of my hand when I pulled my hands around his shoulder blades to his chest. He’d barely stopped when Dylan carefully sank onto the futon next to me, making sure to leave a few inches of space between us.

“That’s how it felt for me.”

My face lifted to look at him, and the serious look in his eyes made me shift toward him. “What did?”

“Moving here. No one in my family has ever lived this far away. And I felt … stuck, I guess. I felt stuck in my role there. Like I’d never see the things I wanted to see, to experience the things I’ve always wanted to experience if I didn’t do something drastic.” I wasn’t sure he was even really seeing me—if he was seeing how his answer touched something elemental inside of me— with the way his eyes weren’t focused on my face. He was watching my hands on his dog’s back. “I’m pretty sure my family still thinks I’m a little crazy for being here. But it felt like if I stayed? I’d never end up the person I was supposed to be.”

“That’s exactly right,” I said quietly. His hands smoothed down the length of his thighs, and he blew out a breath. The dramatic sound made me laugh.

“Is that funny, Sprite?” He nudged me with his elbow, and the friendly gesture made me smile.

“No.” When I didn’t say anything else, he glanced over at me. The look in his eye wasn’t necessarily romantic. But it was so warm that the blood thickened in my veins, making my skin feel heavy. I trusted him. I’d never felt it before, that implicit belief that I could be safe with another person, especially a man. The giddiness of it almost made me light-headed.

“Want to watch a movie or something? I think I’ve exhausted the slave labor portion of your visit.”

“You don’t need to kick me out?”

Dylan must have heard the tinge of insecurity in the question because he turned toward me fully. His eyes touched over my whole face, stopping the longest on my hair and my mouth, which made me swallow.

“In all honesty, I probably should.” He sighed again, giving me a rueful smile. “But I’m not going to. I’m having too much fun.”

It must have been the way he was looking at me, a mixture of surprise and kindness, of appreciation. He appreciated me. It made me feel reckless in a way that I wasn’t accustomed to. Being with a man that liked me— in whatever capacity it might have been—— and that I felt safe with made my entire body tingle. So it shocked the hell out of me when I leaned forward and touched my lips to his.

Dylan stilled completely for a brief moment, but I didn’t pull back. Then I moved my lips over his for a split second before he started reacting. Both of his hands smoothed up my arms, over my shoulders to tangle in my hair. My eyes fluttered closed, and he changed the angle of his head, sweeping his tongue across the seam of my lips until I sighed.

I leaned up on my knees, curling my hands on the broad muscles of his shoulders, and when I lifted, the dog scrambled off of my lap. Neither of us paid any attention. What was I doing? What were
we
doing?

Kissing. Oh, yes, the kissing. His lips were firm and soft and really, really freaking masterful. Some inarticulate sound came out of my mouth when his tongue pushed against mine. It spurred him on, wrapping his arms around me so that I felt dwarfed against his massive frame. My arms wound around his neck and I made a tentative stroke of my own with my tongue against his. Dylan froze. We’d barely moved, but our lips separated, leaving just enough space for our exhales to tangle in front of our mouths.

“Kat,” he said, remorse and surprise filling his eyes. Oh geez, if he apologized, I’d murder him.

“Oh no, you don’t.” I pulled back, pushing a shaking hand through my messy hair. “That was all me.”

“Not
all
you.” He shifted on the futon, adjusting his jeans.

I gave him a little smile, taking stock of how I felt. Oddly enough, I didn’t have the embarrassment that I thought I would. He wasn’t disgusted or gushing with apologies, thank goodness. When a man makes mouth-lovin’ with you, he wants you. And Dylan Steadman had some really fantastic tongue action. I shivered.

“Don’t smile at me like that,” he said under his breath and hung his hands off the back of his neck.

I tilted my head, feeling a coyness that shocked me, given that he’d been the one to stop us. YES. I was a
total
vixen. “Why not?”