“You miss them when they’re gone at night?” I asked, taking a seat on one of the stools.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve seen her dropping them off. What’s her name?”
He hesitated then said, “Jenna.”
“Hmm.”
He stopped what he was doing for a moment. “What, Chelsea?”
“What do you mean?”
“You look like you want to ask me something else.”
“Nothing…it’s just…what happened between the two of you?”
“For the record, she isn’t my stepsister.”
Jerk.
“Well, thank God for that.”
“She’s my cousin.” He laughed.
I reached over, took a little of his flour and flicked it at him. “Clearly, you don’t know how to be serious.”
“I was being serious when I told you how much I miss my dogs when they’re not around.”
“You know what? It’s none of my business.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Did you break up with her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She wanted things I couldn’t give her.”
“Like what?”
“She wanted to get married and have kids.”
“You don’t want those things?” When he didn’t answer, I asked, “Or you didn’t want them with her?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Okay. Like I said, it’s none of my business.”
“The bottom line is…when I first met her, she told me she didn’t want those things. Then, over time, she changed her mind. I didn’t want to keep her from living the kind of life she envisioned for herself.”
“So, you broke up with her.”
“Yes.”
“Did you love her?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
I stared off into space a bit. “Okay. If you have to think about it, you probably didn’t.”
“I know what you’re trying to do, Chelsea.”
“What?”
“You’re trying to analyze my situation to somehow find answers to your own shit. Not all guys are the same. We’re fucked-up for different reasons. I hope you stopped seeing Dr. Fuckwad, by the way.”
“Actually, I did. I took your advice. She wasn’t making much sense toward the end.”
“Good. You should be looking forward not backwards anyway.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do…you know, when I’m not accidentally burning down buildings.”
“You said it, not me,” he said, placing the two round trays into the preheated oven. “These are going in for a half-hour. What do you like to drink?”
“Anything you have is fine.”
“Rhubarb Juice Concentrate, then?” he teased.
“Ugh…no.”
“What do you like?”
“Wine.”
“What kind?”
“Any kind is fine.”
“Do you have a problem saying what you want or something?”
“Seriously, any kind is fine…except Moscato.”
“See…now, what if I’d opened up Moscato? You would’ve drank it and been miserable.”
“Probably.”
“Don’t be afraid to say what you want. Life is too short.”
“Okay, then. Do you have Chardonnay?”
“No.”
“White Zinfandel?”
“No.”
I laughed. “What do you have?”
“Beer.”
“Beer…”
“You can’t always get what you want. But don’t be afraid to ask.”
“Water is fine.”
God, I needed a glass of wine.CHAPTER SIXTHE DATING GAMESteam filled the kitchen as Damien took the two pizza pies out of the oven. I couldn’t help admiring the curvature of his ass as he bent down.
Digging my teeth into my bottom lip, I said, “That looks really good.”
“Wait till you taste.”
I bet.
Stop where your mind is going, Chelsea.
I cleared my throat. “Pretty confident in your cooking skills, huh?”
“Pizza is like sex. It’s hard to fuck it up.”
Chuckling, I said under my breath, “I don’t really remember.”
“That long, huh?”
Heat permeated my cheeks. “I didn’t even realize I’d said that out loud.”
He pointed to his ears. “Supersonic hearing, remember?”
“That’s right.”
“So, it’s been a while?”
“Well, it’s going on a year since my breakup. I haven’t been with anyone else after him. And I’ve only been with two men in my life.”
“Both at once, I take it?”
“No.” Grabbing the napkin next to me, I rolled it and threw it at him. “It was only a book, Damien!”
“You mean you don’t really want to be blindfolded and fucked in the ass with a cock in your mouth?”
“No, I truly don’t.”
“I’m just messing with you. If we were all really representative of the things that help get our rocks off, I’d be one pretty sick fuck.”
“I don’t want to know.” I shook my head and sighed.
“What’s that sigh for?” he asked as he placed a plate of pizza in front of me.
“You know way too much about me, Damien Hennessey.”
“By accident, yes.”
“Still.” I blew on the pizza and took a bite. “You owe me. I want more dirt on you. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Your rent is going up in January.”
My mouth was full. “Are you serious?”
“Actually, I am. The property taxes went up significantly. I have no choice but to raise it fifty bucks across the board.”
“That sucks. But that wasn’t the kind of information I was hoping for. Maybe we can negotiate.” The way the words had come out of my mouth made it sound like I was propositioning him. That was not how I meant it.
God, I hoped that didn’t sound bad.
He chuckled and blew on his pizza. “You know what you are, Chelsea Jameson? You’re like pizza. Hot…but bad for me in large doses.”
I tried to sway the conversation, but the only thing I could think to ask was, “You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”