Missing Dixie(19)

He scratches the light scruff on his jaw. “Um, ask her out sometime?”

“Are you asking me?”

He chuckles low and the sound reverberates like the car engine. “No. I’m going to ask her out. I should, right?”

“Stop asking me and decide. For the love of God, man.” We laugh and I mimic ringing his neck. “Guys kill me. You’re all tough as nails and manly men but then when confronted with a woman, particularly one who is openly interested in you, suddenly you’re mute and confused.”

“She’s probably too good for me. I mean, Ivy League? And then that Tate guy makes a beeline to chat her up. If Robyn nearly fainting dead away was any indication, dude is a big damn deal. I can’t compete with that.”

I roll my eyes. “Who says it’s a competition? Ask her out. If she’s into you she’ll say yes. If she’s not, she’ll say thanks, but no thanks. What’s so complicated?”

“Rejection is complicated, Dix. It messes with your head and confidence and self-esteem and all that shit. I feel like she got what she wanted tonight, then she moved on to the next guy. Seems to be a pattern with me.”

“Whoa there, cowboy. Do not hang your wussing out on me.” I jab a finger in his direction.

“It’s not just you. I’ve dated other girls, you know. I didn’t just sit around and pine for you, Lark.”

“Good. Life’s too short to pine. Believe me.”

Jag nods as we pull into my driveway. “Seems someone else got tired of it also.”

Standing under the golden glow of the porch light is Gavin Garrison in all of his half-removed-tuxedo-clad glory.

“He must’ve hauled ass to beat us here,” Jag remarks under his breath, and I know he’s wondering about the size of Gavin’s engine compared to his. Boys.

“Wonder what’s wrong.” I don’t make a move to get out of the car. I can’t. I’m not ready to face him unexpectedly. He missed the rehearsal dinner because he had to work and I was braced to deal with him at the wedding, but this, this beat-down yet still beautiful and sure of himself version currently lowering himself onto my weathered wooden porch swing, I’m not ready for him.

“If you’re waiting for a good-night kiss, I’m going to have to take a rain check. You’re a great girl and you know I’m always here for almost anything you need, but I’ve grown pretty attached to my teeth. All of them. So . . .”

“Shut it, McKinley. I’m thinking.”

“About?”

Getting him to admit he was interested in Cassidy was like pulling teeth. When it’s my business he’s chatty all of the sudden.

“About what he’s doing here. What he wants and why it couldn’t wait. About what I should say to him and how I should approach this particular—”

“You’re overthinking it.”

I make a noise of agreement in my throat. “I do that.”

“Get out of my car, Lark. Man up and grow a pair, as you said.”

I shake my head. “That advice doesn’t work on women.” I stare at Gavin as he leisurely begins to swing back and forth, swaying slightly. A man on the outside, still kind of a little boy on the inside.

I love them both. All of him.

Probably not going to lead with that, though.

“All right. I’m going.”

“Later, babe. Good luck with . . . that.”

“Good night, Jag. Good luck with Cass. Oh! She likes that Greek place, the one with the awesome hummus.”

He laughs gently. “Thanks. I’ll make a note of it.”

Maybe my tip earned me some gentlemanly behavior or maybe he’s delaying calling Cassidy, but Jaggerd gets out of the car before I can and walks around and opens my door.

“Wow. Now it’s like a real date.”

His cheeks pink just a little. “Nah. Like I said. Old habits.”

I smile as he nods curtly to Gavin, who nods slowly back while stretching his arms across the back of the swing. How Gavin Garrison manages to exude such constant calm, I will never know. Even in the bathroom tonight, he totally had his shit together while I was coming apart at the seams.

Wait. No. Seams.

He did tear my panties completely off, so maybe he didn’t have it as together as I thought.

Walking with carefully measured steps up my front walk toward him, my body heats at the memory.

Is he here to finish what he started?

Do I want him to be here for that?

“Hey,” I say in greeting when I step onto the porch and remove my heels, holding the pair in one hand.

“Hey.” He rolls his lower lip between his teeth and every memory I have of his mouth comes flooding to the forefront of my mind.

I wonder what his lips taste like right now. Do they taste like me? Like wedding cake? Like liquor?

My attention has dropped noticeably to his mouth and when I recover my sanity his eyes gleam as he takes notice of my slip.

He stands, rattling the porch and causing my entire body to vibrate with need. My cheeks flare with the same heat that spreads across the rest of my flesh from the inside out.

The glow of the dim porch light catches the glint in his eye. The darkness surrounding him makes him look even more like a threat to my sanity. I finally see what other people see now, people who don’t know him or don’t know what he’s lived through.