Page 73 of On the Ropes
Dean
It took a huge effort to sort the carrots. Twice I had to tip the boxes over and start again.
The potatoes were a goddamn nightmare. I lost half when they rolled under the table. Another few when I fucked up the count. Five potatoes, one bag of carrots, two cans of soup. Five potatoes, one bag of—
“Hey, Dean,” Rowan said.
My hands stilled. I shook my head and got back to counting. Five potatoes? Six?
His face floated into view. “Yo, what’s going on with you?”
I scowled at the onion I was holding. Rowan gripped me by the shoulders. “Oh my God, is that Tabitha Tyler?”
“What?” I said, craning my neck toward the door. “You saw Tabitha?”
Rowan’s slightly concerned face sharpened. That concern was replaced with a smirk full of bullshit within seconds. “Nah, I was lying to get your attention. It’s so painful to watch you sort those carrots, dude.” He took them from me the same way I grabbed tools out of his grandmother’s hands. “Wash the strawberries, make yourself useful.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose with a wince. “Sorry. I’m…spacey today. Just a little out of it.”
He eyed me carefully over the produce but didn’t push. I’d offered to help him prep some last-minute food boxes for thirty seniors in the neighborhood who’d requested the extra help. I’d checked the list—Eddie wasn’t on it.
We were making decent progress on the boxes. EvenifI was doing ashitjob.
I walked over to the large sink in the kitchen at the rec center. Flipped on the cold water and splashed my face. It chased away the remaining brain fog that hadn’t let up since I’d driven Tabitha home last night.
It had taken me half an hour to find a parking spot after dropping her off. I’d gone to find the truck today, worried that in my shock I’d left my car in the middle of the road with the engine running, keys in the ignition.
I hadn’t. It was parked correctly, doors locked and engine off. There was no sign at all of what happened in the back seat.
I filled a large silver bowl with strawberries and focused on washing them. Then I ripped open the final box of carrots. Scooped them out and into my arms. I didn’t think about what it was like to have the best sex of my life with the woman I’d been into since high school. Didn’t think about her warm lips or her soft skin or the incredible sounds she made when she came on my—
“Dean.”
I blinked. Rowan was taking the carrots away again. “Did you see Tabitha again?”
He paused, mid-step. Dropped the produce down and dragged two chairs out from the side table. Kicked one over to me. “Sit down.”
“Why?”
“You’re being really, really fucking weird tonight,” he said. “And don’t be a dick about me noticing it either.”
I dropped into it heavily. “I’m the dick right now?”
He crossed his arms but stayed standing. He pointed at the space above my head. “What’s going on up there? Those guys from the bar being assholes to you again?”
“What? No. I haven’t seen ’em.”
“Then what is it? You’ve been staring at produce like you’re the guy in Good Will Hunting tryin’ to solve math problems.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “I love that movie.”
“I’ve known you since we were four—I know all your favorite movies.”
I dropped my elbows to my knees. I wasn’t purposefully hiding what had happened between me and Tabitha. Even if it took me a while, I told Rowan everything. I was just in a literal trance. Letting myself think about last night seemed impossible.
Three times. I was somehow the man lucky enough to see Tabitha orgasm three times. How was I supposed to—
“Tabitha and I had sex in the back seat of the truck while parked in front of the art museum,” I blurted out.
