Greatest Distraction (Distracted #1) (20 page)

“
Mmmm,” I mumbled contently. It was the best anyone was going to get from me at the moment. The entire world could have fallen apart, been set on fire, and the seven plagues appeared – none of it would have been able to rouse me. My entire body relaxed against him and his chest rose as he chuckled softly.

“
Mmmhmm,” was his reply and I focused on the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing returned to normal.

The motion lulled me, soothing me. I’m embarrassed to admit that I was more comfortable than I’d been in what seemed like forever. I felt safe, despite barely knowing the man who held me, but I knew he’d physically keep me safe. Emotionally I already knew I was in big,
big
trouble. With that thought churning in my head, I fell asleep, silently praying I wouldn’t drool on him during the night.

Chapter Thirteen
 

I was dreaming a really good dream. I was in it, and so was Dane – it was beautiful and romantic. Then it transformed into a nightmare. Suddenly he’d donned a Leather Face mask and was chasing me with chainsaw. Seriously, a freaking chainsaw.

Bolting awake, I glanced beside me to find the man in question, sans mask, snoring
… loudly. It sounded just like the chainsaw had in my dream, only louder, if that was possible. The man was bound to have a flaw … but any future sleeping was going to be taken under precaution. Note to self: no cuddle sleeping after a horror movie, ever. My psyche couldn’t handle the horror-slasher dreams I would have. Scarred for life, much, anyone?

There was no way I was ever going to get back to sleep with a power tool in my bed. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was seven forty-five and decided it was a good enough time to get up anyway. Leaving the handsome, now slightly flawed, man to sleep, I snuck off the side of the bed. I moved quietly into the dark closet, grabbed the first clothes my hands touched, and
tip-toed down the stairs, dressing as I went.

By the time I’d reached the kitchen and my cell phone, I was clothed and my hair was in a knot on the top of my head. Feeling accomplished, I started some coffee and checked my messages.

*
Elle:
Why have you not called me?! I need to talk to you!

*Elle:
It’s been hours. HOURS. I’m worried. Call me.

*Elle:
…Let me know you’re alive. Please.

I sighed, feeling guilty for making her worry. I had twelve missed calls, countless
Facebook notifications, and several comments on the photo Dane had uploaded yesterday. Mentally waving them away – I didn’t really care what anyone had to say right now – I dialed my best friend, hoping she’d be up and that she wouldn’t be all at the same time. The last thing I wanted was to be lectured … especially when I hadn’t done anything wrong. The beeping of her voicemail startled me.

“Hey – I’m fine. Stop worrying. I swear you’re worse than
Alice Nelson. I don’t want to get into Dane and I right now, especially with him sleeping upstairs. Oh yes, you heard that right. I so said that. Anyway, don’t believe everything you’ve heard – you should know better by now. We’re living proof of that. I’m making breakfast now … I’ll talk to you later. Give the girls and the hubs my hugs. Bye, pretty girl.”

Hanging up and turning the ringer to silent, I poured a cup of
joe while staring at the refrigerator show. I pulled milk, eggs, and butter out, deciding that carbs sounded fantastic, and set myself to making French toast. It was one of the few things my dad could make, and the thought of him making it for countless dinners-for-breakfast pulled a smile from me.

I’d just plated the final slice when a single knock on the door drew my attention. Funny thing about the apartment I’d almost forgotten
… the knocking system. One knock meant news, two to four meant someone was actually there for attention … unless it was Elle having locked herself out, then there were about fourteen. And hers weren’t knocks … more like a frantic beating, trying to mold the metal into Play-Doh.

Shrugging
, I opened it, picked up the many papers that were on the mat, and moved into the living room. When we’d lived here, we always had a couple delivered so we could actually pretend we were caught up in the news of the city and the world. Rarely had we ever read them, but that wasn’t the point. It was expected of us. Today, though, it wasn’t the Wall Street Journal or the Times that grabbed my eye, but the gossip papers underneath. More specifically, it was the photos of Dane and I that snagged me.

There we were, full color, on the front page of two of them – smaller pictures in another. In what world was
I
front-page worth news or gossip? Really, I’m boring. The headlines varied from “The Mob Fell for the Farmer’s Daughter” to “Young Money, Young Love.”  There were images of us kissing, holding hands, and then even one of Dane taking our selfie picture. The one that made me laugh was the little circle picture – you know, the one where they zoom in on something and want you to see what they see? – rumoring that I was “gifted” my watch as a “token of love.”

I shook my head and stood, throwing them out as I doused my cooling French toast with powdered sugar. Shuffling filtered toward me and I glanced up, seeing Dane all mussed from sleep and looking absolutely kissable. He’d managed to throw on a shirt and shorts before coming in for breakfast, but he was rubbing his eyes like I always saw
Kallie doing after a nap. It was adorable.

“Morning
… who was at the door?” he asked, yawning.

“Hey
, sunshine. No one, it was the news.”

“
Hmph,” he sounded before perching on one of the barstools. He looked over at my plate, his eyebrows rising. “Why does it look like you’re having a snow cone for breakfast?”

“Shut up! Everyone knows that French toast isn’t French toast without a copious amount of powdered sugar. Be nice, or I won’t give you some,” I scolded playfully, laughing as he pouted at the thought of no food.

“Some … or
some.
Pretty sure I’ve
had
some and it was better than that cavity on your plate. Oh, and no big words like ‘copious’ this early … I haven’t had coffee yet.”

“
Har har. Do you want some breakfast?”

“You know we’re eating with my mom in like
… four hours, right?” he asked, still taking the plate as I handed it to him and reaching for the maple syrup.

“Yep. Brunch. I haven’t forgotten.” Yes, I was talking around a mouthful of food. Was it ladylike? No. Did I have powdered sugar all over my chin? Yep, I could feel it. Did I mind? Surprisingly enough, no, I didn’
t … I knew that Dane liked me. And if a little breakfast on the face could change his mind, then he didn’t really like me to begin with.

“How long are you in New York?” he asked around his own bite and I chucked when syrup dripped from the side of his mouth. “This is superb, by the way. Hats off to the chef.”

“Thanks. Dad’s recipe,” I swallowed before continuing, “and I don’t know. I haven’t really cemented anything in stone … pretty much taking it a day at a time.”

He nodded and we both fell into a comfortable silence as we ate. Occasionally he’d stare and smile, other times reaching for my hands. It was like we’d been dating for years, not only knowing the other for two now three days, and sleeping together twice. Yes, I was counting. Great things need tallies, don’t you know.

When we’d finished our food, Dane surprised me by waving me over to the couch and turning on the TV before he washed the dishes. Finished, he sat beside me, propping his feet up and pulling me into him.

“
Whatcha’ watching?”

“
Saved by the Bell
marathon,” I told him, looking at him to catch his reaction.

“Awesome. I wanted to be AC Slater when I watched this back in the day.”
Just like that, he won another point from me. Any man who could openly admit to a man crush, especially when he was younger, was just … cool.

I pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch and sunk into him, tossing it around us both. He was comfortable and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my morning, especially since I was nervous about meeting his mom. I kn
ew I wasn’t his girlfriend, we weren’t going steady, and I wasn’t the man asking to keep his prom date out past curfew, but I was still nervous. She carried a lot of weight in his world, and meant a lot to him – all my experiences with men who were mommy’s boys never ended well. I didn’t want her to hate me, and I didn’t want to have to hate her on sheer principal.

We roused from the couch after episode five, grumbling that real life was intruding in our walk down childhood lane. Since we’d showered late the evening before, and were running short on time, we both decided against another – instead going through the motions of dressing like a choreographed dance. To be honest, I’d almost gone in what I’d dressed in, until the look of horror Dane had given me. Apparently skinny jeans, black bra, and a hot
-pink Borat shirt that announced “I like you, I like sex” wasn’t appropriate for brunch at Ouest … or to meet his mom. Okay, I guess I could agree with that, but I was comfortable … and it was one of my favorite shirts.

“How did you even come to
own
that?” he’d asked, sounding almost appalled almost reverent.

“To be honest, I don’t remember.”

“Wear it often?”

“Actually yes
… the reactions I get from people are hilarious. Case in point: I lent it to Elle when she was pregnant with her twins, just barely showing, and we were chilling at my house. A Jehovah’s Witness couple came to my house – I was always nice to them, let them talk, to each their own, right? Well, it was Elle who opened the door. She let them talk, was kind and polite to them, but when they left she just looked at me and told me how they were staring at her, wide-eyed. She didn’t know why … and it took me a minute. Elle wasn’t quite as amused, horrified would better suit how she felt. I thought I was going to die, I laughed so hard.” I chuckled at the memory, remembering the mortification on her face. It was funny … one that would probably send me to hell, but was funny all the while. She’d held that copy of The Watchtower for about an hour, telling me how we were both going to burn. Probably true, but still hilarious.

Dane laughed and went back to dressing, producing a pair of nice, dark jeans from his duffel bag and a gray button
-down shirt. He’d asked where the iron and board were, and when I told him I didn’t know, left in search for them. I assumed that’s where he was while I changed since he left me alone for quite a while.

I chose a sky
-blue, tea-length dress, vintage inspired, that belled toward the bottom and donned dainty cap sleeves – those little ones that cup over the shoulder. It screamed spring time with its lace-placed flower overlays. White jeweled sandals gave it the right finishing touch and I pulled my hair into a tight pony tail, letting it trail down my back. As I was smearing on some pale pink lip gloss, Dane entered the bathroom, looking amazing in his freshly pressed shirt. I suddenly felt way underdressed as I stared at our reflections in the mirror.

“You look beautiful,” he said, leaning down to kiss me on the forehead, his stubble tickling my skin. I frowned at his words, unable to look away from him. “What’s wrong?”