Page 17 of It's About Time
“So good to have you back, Elliot.” Kevin slaps me on the back as we walk out to our cars.
“I’ve gotta say, I needed that.” Inhaling the crisp night air, a smile washes over my face, the first genuine one I’ve felt in a long time. “Keep me posted on your run for District Attorney, will you?” Kevin has had the goal of that position for a long time, and I’m proud that he’s finally going after it.
“Of course.”
Once I’m on my way back to Blossom Peak, I realize I never ate dinner, so I pull through a drive-thru and scarf down my food on the way home.
But as I walk up to my front door a few hours later, I find a bag from The Happy Belly Deli. Glancing at the receipt stapled to the bag, I realize that this food was delivered over three hours ago.
Fucking Dilynne.
It’s not her fault, though. I hadn’t told anyone about my trip down to Charlotte tonight so my father would be kept in the dark.
Once I’ve changed out of my clothes and showered, I hop into bed and send Dilynne a text.
Me:Hey. Thanks for the food. Unfortunately, I wasn’t home to enjoy it so I’m afraid it’s gone to waste.
Surprisingly, her reply is instant.
Dilynne:Damn it, Thorne. You owe me twenty-five bucks.
Me:$25? The receipt said it was only eighteen.
Dilynne:Yeah, well, I’m charging interest.
Me:That doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t borrow money from you.
Dilynne:*shrugging girl emoji* Whatever. I’m beat. I was just about to put my phone down when you texted me.
Me:Long day?
Dilynne:Yeah. I stayed late at the shop working on the Porsche. Finally had to force myself to leave so I wouldn’t be a zombie tomorrow.
Me:I’m gonna be tired tomorrow too but tonight was worth it.
Dilynne:*smirking emoji* Did someone get lucky tonight?
I chuckle.
Me:Not even a little. Just a work thing in Charlotte.
Dilynne sends me a picture of her with an unimpressed look on her face while she’s lying in her bed. She has on no makeup and her hair frames her face.
Fuck. She looks…beautiful—despite the sarcastic look on her face.
What the hell, Elliot? We don’t think that way about Dilynne, remember?
But before I can chastise myself further, my dick perks up the longer I stare at the picture—her full lips, her dark eyes, and then I glance lower in the photo and find a hint of her cleavage peeking out of the top of her tank top.
Jesus Christ.
Am I really so sex-deprived that Dilynne Clark is making me hard?
Then she sends me another text.
Dilynne:Well, either way, good for you for getting out of the house. That’s a step in the right direction.
The corner of my mouth lifts, and within a few seconds, I realize I’m now smiling at my phone while my dick is still half hard.
