I stare at him with my mouth hanging open and my fork gripped in my hand. He just keeps going. “Crab rangoon?”
I nod, and he puts two on my plate. When I look down, my plate is piled high with something from each of the containers. He’s not eating. He’s staring at me, searching my face, and I know he’s wondering what I thought about all his confessions. I set my fork down and reach for his hand. I meant to only touch the back of his, but he turns it and intertwines our fingers together. Another tremble goes through me. I’ve never had a man that liked to touch me as much as he does. I like it... I like him. “You’re a good guy, Dylan. You can try to convince me otherwise, but everything I’ve learned about you today tells me that you’re a good guy.” I clear my throat and try to work up the nerve to say what I want to say. No guts, no glory. “I like you.”
He gives me a lopsided grin and squeezes my hand. “I like you too.”
We sit at the dining room table and eat with our chopsticks while we talk about any and everything. Well, not everything. He makes it very apparent that there are things he won’t be able to tell me, and I completely understand. I’ve heard the same spiel from my brother before.
“Can you tell me anything? The guys you work with? Where you live, anything?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, sure. There’s quite a few of us. We’re all ex-military.”
I shake my head. “But I thought John was in a branch of the military now.”
His eyes widen. “Well, we are sort of on our own. We do things a little differently, but ultimately we have the same goal.”
“To help people?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah. There’s Walker; he is the backer of the whole operation. He owns half of Whiskey Run, the Distillery, and the headquarters.”
“Where exactly is the headquarters?” I ask as I take a bite of the egg roll. A bit of the juice rolls down my chin, and without even thinking about it, Dylan leans over and uses his thumb to wipe my chin before sticking it in his mouth and licking it clean. Heat flares in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t imagine anything hotter than that right there.
“Whiskey Run. It’s a small town, but there’s a lot of land that goes between there and Jasper. Our headquarters are on the outskirts of town, surrounded by a bunch of ranches.”
I nod. “And the rest of the guys?” I’m enthralled by it all. Already I’ve learned more from Dylan than my brother ever would tell me.
“Nash is our commander. Great guy. Then there’s your brother, Jaxx, Bear, Bobo, Knox, Colt, Cash, and Houston. We’re somewhat of a rough bunch, but they’re all good guys.”
I nod, seeing the pride on his face as he talks about them.
When we’re done eating, we take turns in the bathroom showering. He insists I go first, and when I’m done, I sit on the edge of my bed with the bedroom door wide open. It’s right across the hall from the bathroom, and after fifteen minutes, Dylan comes out in shorts and nothing else. My mouth drops as I watch him towel dry his hair and then loop the towel around his neck.
He catches me watching him from my spot on the bed. “You okay? I know today was a lot.”
My face heats, and I try to cover up my reaction to him with the first thing that comes to mind. “Have you heard from my brother? Is he okay?”
He nods. “I talked to the team while you were in the shower. He’s good. If all goes as planned, he’ll be back in the States in a day. Two max.”
I let out a breath. “Good. That’s good. So are you sure I can’t take the couch? You’d probably fit better in the bed.”
He grunts and shakes his head. He takes a step into the room and stops. “Come here.”
I don’t know why I question him, but I do. “Why?”
“Because I want to talk to you.”
I sit straighter on the bed. “Why can’t you come here and talk to me?”
My God, is that my voice? It’s low and seductive sounding. I didn’t even know I had it in me.
“Because if I come over there, I won’t stop with talking to you. I’ll have you naked underneath me before you can count to two.”
My heart stops. It’s just a few beats I miss, but it definitely happened. I unfold my legs and climb out of the bed. The walk across the room feels like a mile instead of just a few feet. “Okay,” I mutter when I’m standing in front of him.
He has his hands gripping the edges of the towel that’s hanging around his neck. “Talk to me.”