Page 14 of So Pucking Over You
Mom: Your father and I have seen the photos and the videos. I’m so glad Dash was there to prevent you from kicking that SOB in the balls even though he deserved it. We both know he wasn’t the one for you. Maybe it’s time you went after what you really want. If you don’t ask, the answer is always no.
Mom: We love you. Happy New Year. See you in a couple days. Be safe.
Mom: Give Dash our love.
Did my mother just say what I think she said? Did she just tell me to make a move on Dash?
I know she’s caught me watching him a couple times over Christmas and maybe over the summer when he came for the fourth of July picnic. I was sure I brushed it off and redirected her, but…
Me: Mom, what are you saying?
Dad: Hold on honey. Mom walked out of the room. I’ll take her the phone.
Oh my god. I forgot this is Dad’s phone and he’ll be reading all of this. I press my forehead to the wall.
Mom: Hi honey, it’s Mom. Don’t you remember that I proposed to your father because he was dragging his feet. That young man you want isn’t immune to you. I’ve seen how he watches you. How he cares for you. Use a little perfume before you go to bed. And snuggle. It’s cold outside.
Make sure he uses protection. Love you.
I don’t believe this. Slumping against the counter I wonder if that last one was from Mom or Dad.
I splash cold water on my face and stare at my image as I brush my teeth.
He’s in the other room. The man I want. The man of my dreams. Maybe Mom is right. If you want it, you need to grow a pair and go for it.
Dash is sitting in a chair watching the weather report. He glances up when I walk in wearing his T-shirt that I’ve knotted at my hip. He swallows hard as his gaze travels from my head to my thighs where his shirt ends. The heat in his gaze gives me hope and courage.
He clears his throat. “Gordy says they’ve cleared the cars in front of the bus and the drivers are willing to push through following the plows. They’re about five hours behind us. According to the guy at the front desk, they clear the highway first then come back to the access roads. It will be two to three hours after that before the parking lot is plowed and we’ll have access to the highway.
“If we get some sleep and leave here around four in the morning we should get to Buffalo about the same time as the team.
“It will be a tough game especially since the other team is already in Buffalo. We’ll maybe get a decent night’s sleep but not much practice time.” He shrugs. “Coach is trying to have the start time pushed out an hour or so since most people who would be coming will be dealing with the same travel impact of the storm.”
“Tomorrow, if it’s clear and you trust me, I can drive and you can get some sleep and at least stretch out a little more,” I offer.
He nods, places his laptop on the table and heads to the bathroom.
I pack up my laptop and organize my suitcase for a quick exit then roll it beside where Dash put his. He’s laid his clothes out for the morning. Jeans, T-shirt and sweater are stacked on top. The sky-blue sweater is one I gifted him two years ago for Christmas.
Glancing at the dresser I see Dash’s keys, change and wallet. Running my finger over the worn leather and tracing the engraved horse head my heart skips a beat. That was the gift I gave him the first year he came to Christmas with Gordy. The key chain was the year after.
He's kept my gifts and obviously uses them.I’ve seen how he watches you.
Why haven’t I seen it? Because I was too embarrassed and out of his league to think he’d ever see me. Pulling off his T-shirt, I rifle through my carryon until I find just what I think will get his attention. Crawling into bed next to the wall I wait and plan.
CHAPTER 8
Dash
Standing under the shower spray I lean my head against the wall. I almost lost it when I looked up and saw her in my T-shirt. Fuck, she looked so sexy with the way she’d knotted the hem so it hugged her shape.
I’ve heard her refer to herself as having the body of a twelve-year-old boy. It’s not true. She’s hot as hell. Natural. Authentic. In body and attitude.
I’ve had so much plastic shoved in my face I should know. I blame the tabloids, television, movies, and media for telling women they can’t just be themselves. I wish they’d just let their natural beauty shine through. Tall, short, round, slender. Just fucking be real and you’re already beautiful.
Shape and size have never meant much to me. I’ve dated them all. What gets to me is attitude. Kindness, consideration, and intelligence are by far sexier than shape. Oakley has it all.
She leads with her heart and compassion but has the backbone to go toe to toe with an asshole. She’s the kind of woman you want by your side. Not in front of or behind you.