that filled my bedroom. Was Ricki right about me freaking out only because I feared intimacy? The more I thought about all that she had said tonight, the more sense her comments made. I mean, what else besides a fear of getting close to a man could that panic attack have been about? It was true that I was very attracted to Dylan. Seeing him again had reminded me of that. Even as his unexpected appearance had unsettled me, it had also excited me to the point that my legs had moved me closer to him. It had been as if they had a life of their own. My body is trying to tell me something… I giggled to myself in the darkness. I also had to agree with Ricki that his words in the email—-she’d made me show her the email on my smartphone—-could only be described as sweet, the kind a man tells a woman when he cares about her. Like she’d kept saying, the only reason a guy would send such an email to a girl was because he’d realized there was something special between them, worth exploring further. Yes, he had to have realized that. Why else would he come all the way down to Bliss to talk to me, ask me out to dinner?
Why else would he have seemed so incredibly disappointed?
Guys who only wanted sex didn’t behave that way. I had been around long enough to know how those guys behaved. Slept with a couple of them, too. Thinking about the last one, a chef I’d met while filling up my car, creeped me out now, even though I hadn’t been looking for anything but a fun time and he was all about that. I remembered how sexy I thought he had looked with his beard stubble, sideways grin and curly brown hair. How flattered I’d felt when he practically undressed me with his eyes as we started talking. How much I’d enjoyed the suggestive note in everything he said, even in things as clinical as “does that kind of car require regular unleaded or plus?” referring to my old Toyota. It had been his pick-up line and I had played along instantly, ending up having a fling with him that lasted a couple weeks. Now, in hindsight, he seemed a lot more slimy than sexy if I was going to be honest with myself.
I rolled over on my back. Dylan might have freaked me out, but he was definitely not a slimy guy. Square and uptight, yes, but not a creepy slimeball. I should see him again, talk to him, find out if it was in fact fear of getting too close to him that had triggered my strong reaction. Sometime while pondering this I must have fallen asleep, because that was the last thing I remembered when I woke up the following morning, Sam sniffing my face with his wet nose.
Stretching out my body and yawning big, I thought about seeing Dylan again. When I had finished thinking about it, examined the idea in my head as well as in my heart, I felt even more sure it was the right decision. How else would I find out what had freaked me out like that? And I really did want to get to the bottom of it. But I would wait a few days before I contacted him. Hopefully, he would try to get in touch with me another time. If he didn’t, I had no choice but to email him myself.
Dylan
The sun had already set when I pulled into my parking lot outside my apartment building. It had been a long day and I was beat, dying to stretch out on the couch in my living room and watch a movie that didn’t require too much intellectual involvement. I didn’t want to think, just watch something easy to understand to give my brain a rest. I’d spent the previous twelve hours trying to dissect a legal contract. Not only did I not succeed with my task, but the contract had eventually made my head pound.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, announcing either an incoming text or email.
I sighed. It must be Reiss’s assistant who wanted me to do something. The mere thought of reading another contract tonight increased the throbbing in my head. I’d check the message when I got up to my place.
Collapsing on my leather couch, I fished out the phone from my suit pocket and checked
Why else would he have seemed so incredibly disappointed?
Guys who only wanted sex didn’t behave that way. I had been around long enough to know how those guys behaved. Slept with a couple of them, too. Thinking about the last one, a chef I’d met while filling up my car, creeped me out now, even though I hadn’t been looking for anything but a fun time and he was all about that. I remembered how sexy I thought he had looked with his beard stubble, sideways grin and curly brown hair. How flattered I’d felt when he practically undressed me with his eyes as we started talking. How much I’d enjoyed the suggestive note in everything he said, even in things as clinical as “does that kind of car require regular unleaded or plus?” referring to my old Toyota. It had been his pick-up line and I had played along instantly, ending up having a fling with him that lasted a couple weeks. Now, in hindsight, he seemed a lot more slimy than sexy if I was going to be honest with myself.
I rolled over on my back. Dylan might have freaked me out, but he was definitely not a slimy guy. Square and uptight, yes, but not a creepy slimeball. I should see him again, talk to him, find out if it was in fact fear of getting too close to him that had triggered my strong reaction. Sometime while pondering this I must have fallen asleep, because that was the last thing I remembered when I woke up the following morning, Sam sniffing my face with his wet nose.
Stretching out my body and yawning big, I thought about seeing Dylan again. When I had finished thinking about it, examined the idea in my head as well as in my heart, I felt even more sure it was the right decision. How else would I find out what had freaked me out like that? And I really did want to get to the bottom of it. But I would wait a few days before I contacted him. Hopefully, he would try to get in touch with me another time. If he didn’t, I had no choice but to email him myself.
Dylan
The sun had already set when I pulled into my parking lot outside my apartment building. It had been a long day and I was beat, dying to stretch out on the couch in my living room and watch a movie that didn’t require too much intellectual involvement. I didn’t want to think, just watch something easy to understand to give my brain a rest. I’d spent the previous twelve hours trying to dissect a legal contract. Not only did I not succeed with my task, but the contract had eventually made my head pound.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, announcing either an incoming text or email.
I sighed. It must be Reiss’s assistant who wanted me to do something. The mere thought of reading another contract tonight increased the throbbing in my head. I’d check the message when I got up to my place.
Collapsing on my leather couch, I fished out the phone from my suit pocket and checked
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