"One of my special places. This is my home though. The place where my heart belongs. One day, I'll live here permanently," he said, dipping his head close to mine.

Mixed emotions raced through me like a runaway freight train. I couldn't handle this level of intimacy. It brought up too many bad memories and yet, I wanted to see if his lips would feel differently. I wanted to see if they could erase all the memories that never ceased to haunt me.

Dean's lips did not claim mine though. Instead, he placed them lightly on my cheek. His breath warmed my skin, sending sparks of awareness shooting through my body. Pulling back, he looked at me intently, gauging my reaction before stepping back and strutting toward the house.

Watching his retreating back, I suddenly understood his ploy. He was slowly accustoming my body to his touch, much like how he had accustomed my mind to his subtle probing questions over the last three weeks. He was earning my trust an inch at a time.

"Ready," he said, beckoning me to join him on the wooden porch that lined the front of the house.

"Sure," I answered, still reeling from my revelation. Friends my ass. He'd been playing me all along. I should be pissed that he was blatantly ignoring my demands for a platonic relationship. I wasn't angry though, I was sad. I had nothing to give in a real relationship, and he was bound to get hurt when he realized it. The kind and humane thing to do would be for me to step off the runaway train now before it was too late, but everyone knows, I'm neither kind nor humane.

Chapter sixteen

I trailed behind Dean through the house as he showed me the fruits of his labor. I didn't know much about restoration, but I could see the beauty of their work, from the wainscoting walls that had been painstakingly stripped and revarnished, to the hardwood floors that shone brightly beneath our feet. Dean led me through the rest of the house, pointing out fixtures they had replaced with antiques that coincided with the era that the house was built.

"This is my favorite room," he said, leading me through a swinging door at the back end of the house. It led into a bright kitchen, done in all yellows and whites. Long counters circled the entire space, broken up only by appliances. Low cabinets with cooking-related antiques on top of them ran the perimeter of the room. In the center of the kitchen was a large butcher-block table with six high-back chairs pushed in around it. My pulse quickened when I spotted a vase of dried daisies sitting in the center of the table. Daisies, my sunshine, sitting in the middle of the old-fashioned kitchen seemed so fitting. Stepping closer, I looked at the dried flowers, wondering if they were a sign, or a weak attempt on my behalf to convince myself I wasn't being selfish for sticking around.

"What do you think?" Dean asked, stepping up behind me and placing his hands on my arms.

"It's amazing," I answered, trying to ignore his breath, which was tickling the back of my neck. "You have some serious mad restoration skills."

"Well, my dad helped," he answered modestly.

"All it's missing is someone standing in here, making something like fried chicken or meatloaf," I joked, stepping away from him so I could focus.

"Now that you mention it, my mom cooked up a mean meatloaf the last time we were here," he said, accepting my retreat with a smile. "We better head over to my papaw's before they send out the armed services."

"Right," I said, wishing I could hide out here for the day while he celebrated the holiday with his family. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I knew he'd shoot down my suggestion, so I didn't even make the effort.

The drive to the "main house," as he referred to it seemed insanely short. The dirt road we were on ended at a wide open clearing with the largest house I had ever seen smack-dab in the middle of it. Unlike the house we had just left that was seamless in its structure, the one in front of me looked like a patchwork quilt with its multiple additions. What it lacked in curb appeal, it made up for in warmth. Flowering pots sat beneath each windowsill, filled with every wild flower imaginable. One whole addition was covered in ivy that crept up the wall, giving it the illusion that the house was being eaten by greenery. It was the yard in front of the house that rendered me speechless though. Three long rows of tables lined the yard with what looked like a million chairs around them, rested in the middle of the lawn. People young and old milled around the yard, talking and laughing, while young children ran around the adults playing tag. Their laughter could be heard through the jeep's windows as Dean pulled the vehicle in between two pickup trucks that were covered in mud.

"My cousins like to go mudding," Dean said when he caught me eyeing the oversized vehicles.

"I gathered that," I answered, wrinkling up my nose distastefully.

"Hey, don't knock it until you try it," he said, climbing out of the vehicle.

"Mud, bugs and rowdy boys, no thanks," I said, reluctantly climbing from the vehicle.

Dean came around the side of the jeep and grabbed my hand. "So, I thought, I um, should give you the heads-up. My family members are huggers," Dean admitted as the throng of people on the front yard all turned at our approach.

"What?" I hissed under my breath. Surely, I'd heard him wrong. He had the nerve to bring me? Me, who hates to be touched, to a get-together with a bunch of touchers? I was going to kill him, and when I did, I would make it excruciatingly painful, so he could feel my pain. Fire ants and honey would definitely be used.

Dean's too late "I'm an asshole" warning proved to be accurate as I was immediately enveloped in a hug by an elderly woman who claimed I was the spitting image of her late sister who had passed away many years ago. My arms remained at my side as I was passed from one set of arms to the next. I willed my mind to remain numb as I focused on keeping my breathing normal. I sure as hell didn't want to further embarrass myself by passing out like I had the day Dean had touched me for the first time.

Yep, I was definitely going to kill him, I thought to myself as the hugs and greetings continued to come at me from all sides. I was in hell.

"Okay, I think Madison has been mauled enough," Dean said when a guy roughly our age stepped in to give me a second hug. "Nice try, asswipe," I heard Dean mutter to him under his breath before punching him in the arm.

"What?" the multiple offender said with mock innocence.

"Don't be a douche, Travis. I saw you give Madison a hug twenty relatives ago," Dean said, tapping Travis in the arm again to emphasize his point.

"Hey, it was worth a shot, especially since you seemed so keen on sharing her," Travis said, darting out of the way as Dean stalked him, calling him several names.

I stood rooted in the spot where Dean had left me, silently cursing him out for leaving me behind. Forget the fire ants. A pond full of alligators was a much more fitting death for him.

"Madison, I'm so glad you made it," Sarah said, coming up beside me.

Tags: Tiffany King Romance
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