How the Light Gets In (Cracks Duet #2)(28)

If a fumble and a kiss with Dylan felt heavenly tonight, then having sex with him would be celestial. I wasn’t sure I was equipped to deal with celestial right now, not when I was trying hard not to fall for him again. Maybe it was for the best that we were interrupted.

“Well,” said Yvonne, up on her high horse. She stood by the door to the en-suite, arms folded.

I cast her a glance as I dried my face with a towel. “Well, yourself.”

“Oh, no, no. I’m the one welling right now, Evelyn,” she said, grinning happily as she pulled her dress over her head. “It’s happening.”

“What’s happening?”

“You and Dylan, finding your way back to one another. I knew it would.”

“What about you and Conor? All over each other like two big, horny potatoes.”

She pointed a finger at me and walked into the bedroom. “First of all, that’s not even a saying, and second of all . . . okay, I don’t have a second of all, but you can shut your face.”

“You liiiike him,” I crooned.

She threw a pillow at my head then went to climb under the covers. “I already told you, he’s too young.”

“It’s a modern world. Nobody cares about age gaps anymore.”

“Oh, I beg to differ. People say they don’t care, but really, they do. They talk behind your back. It’s just one of those things.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong, and I bet Conor does, too.”

She made a harrumph and plumped the pillow under my head. “We’ll see.”

“Yes, we will,” I replied and reached over to turn off the lamp. Not ten seconds later, Yvonne started snoring. I grabbed the spare pillow to drown her out, and soon enough I was asleep, too.





Chapter 8





I woke up to the smell of coffee.

My eyes were still closed as I spread my palms out on the sheets. This bed was so comfortable . . . and then it hit me.

Dylan.

Yvonne snored lightly next to me, but all I could see was her hair. Sitting up, I ran my hands through my own hair, fingers catching in the knots. Ugh. Last night we’d all gone way overboard. I was surprised I actually had the wherewithal not to sleep with Dylan.

The bedroom door was ajar, and I could hear him and Conor chatting in the kitchen. He had to have come in to leave the coffee. I’d probably had my mouth hanging open, snoring and drooling on the pillow. I picked it up and took a sip.

Nice. It was still warm.

I took a few more sips then crawled out of bed and quickly pulled on my jeans. I slipped into the bathroom to pee then wandered downstairs to the kitchen. Dylan and Conor sat by the counter drinking tea and eating marmalade on toast. It made me smile, because it was the type of thing we ate for breakfast in the old days.

Some things didn’t change.

“Morning, blondie,” Dylan said, his expression fond.

“Hey. Um, thanks for the coffee.”

“No worries. Come sit. Do you want some toast?” he asked, gesturing to a stool.

“I’d love some.”

“How’s the head?” Conor asked, grinning.

“Not as bad as it should be,” I replied then winced. “Did I call you a pretty butterfly last night, or is it just my imagination?”

Dylan laughed. “It’s not your imagination. You definitely called him that.”

I shot Conor an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. “There are worse things to be called.”

“Here.” Dylan set a cup of tea in front of me.

“Thanks,” I murmured and took a sip.

We chatted for a couple minutes, yet all the while I couldn’t stop thinking about Dylan lying on me when I got into bed last night. If we hadn’t been interrupted, things would’ve gone further.

Before long, Yvonne came downstairs. She’d changed back into her red dress, but she’d obviously paid a visit to the bathroom to freshen up and remove last night’s make-up. She actually looked pretty fresh-faced all things considered, but I could tell from her expression she felt awkward.

“Morning everyone,” she said, her voice scratchy. The hazards from shouting to make conversation in the bar last night.

“Yvonne. Let me make you something to eat,” Conor offered, standing from his stool but she waved him off.

“No, no, I need to get home and shower. I have work in a little while.”

He seemed disappointed. “Okay, well, I’ll call you a taxi then.”

“We can catch one on the street. Are you ready to go, Ev?”

I sensed her urgency and quickly nodded, wiping the toast crumbs from my hands. “Sure, just let me grab my bag.”

I hurried to gather my things, then returned to the kitchen to say goodbye. Feeling brave, I approached Dylan, went up on my tiptoes, and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for last night. I had a great time,” I murmured.

“My pleasure,” he whispered and turned his head to catch my lips in a sneaky kiss. I pulled back, trying to scowl, but only succeeded in a crooked smile. He was so cheeky. And my insides felt all sorts of mushy and excited because of it.

“See you, ladies,” Conor called as Yvonne hustled me out the door.

We were in a taxi before either one of us said anything, but then we both spoke at the same time.