No, no, no, it’s been a long time. I don’t need this right now!
There’s no way to stop it. My throat dries up.
He’s still on the bed, his broad chest and muscled shoulders flexing as he reaches for me. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t touch me,” I choke out, shrinking away from him. I hate being touched when I’m having a panic attack.
His eyes fill with concern, but he drops his hand and backs away, standing up from the bed.
I curl up in the blanket, shutting my eyes. It’ll pass if I just lie here, taking deep inhales and slowly exhaling. I don’t know how much time passes before I hear the door open and shut.
Finally, I sit back up in bed to see that he’s gone.
After a long, steamy shower, where I shave almost my entire body, shampoo my hair, and let a deep conditioning mask sit in it for ten minutes, I dress in my most comfortable yellow cotton dress. It’s like a muumuu, but with cute spaghetti straps.
I comb my coconut and bergamot leave-in spray through my hair. I leisurely do my makeup routine with tinted SPF, mascara, and a dab of blush and brow gel.
When I finally finish, I grab a can of my favorite coconut water and step outside, headed for the beach.
A nice walk along the sand, listening to the waves, is just what I need.
I shut the door behind me, look up, and freeze.
Dayton is standing there, still wearing the gray sweats he slept in, with his leather sandals and no shirt. His hair looks like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times.
Did other people get to see bedroom Dayton?
Okay, probably. And you care … why?
He’s staring at me with bloodshot eyes. I lower my hand when I realize I’m chewing on my thumbnail.
“I, uh … I picked up some food. Didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for, so I got sushi and poke … which, I guess, is kind of the same thing. It’s the tsunami roll, the moana roll, and the sweet onion bowl, with soy sauce. I also grabbed a sub sandwich because I saw that red food truck you used to go to in high school with your mom. I was headed back, but then I stopped for a burger from Iggy’s with caramelized onions, fried pickles, and truffle fries. I know you like it that way. They were advertising Diet Cherry Coke with cream, so I just grabbed an extra-large one in case you were thirsty after … eating.”
He’s rambling. Dayton never rambles. In thirteen years, I’ve never heard this man try to fill the silence with so many words.
And he bought me food, copious amounts of my favorite foods.
I stare at him and at the brown paper bags nearly covering half the round picnic table. I blink twice before stepping forward.
“Um, thank you for getting lunch. I guess I am hungry.”
He nods, rubbing his hands together. “Yeah, well, dig in. I,uh, I’m gonna go grab a shirt.”
He saunters off toward the studio, gently shutting the door.
What the hell just happened?
chapter twenty-three
Dayton
She freaked out. Shefreaked the fuckout. I was busy fulfilling one of my all-time fantasies, and she was on the brink of a panic attack.
My heart was nearly beating out of my chest. She just lay there, curled up in a ball. I didn’t hear any crying, but I couldn’t see her face. I stayed in the studio, watching her, racking my brain for twenty minutes about what to do before deciding I had to do fuckingsomething, so I went to get her food. I didn’t know what else to do. She’d told me not to touch her.
I’m a moron.
Then I couldn’t decide on shit. I almost stopped for shaved ice and a chicken sandwich, too, but the fear of her being all alone for too long and needingmesomething, made me skip those trucks and press my foot down on the pedal.