One Bossy Dare

He saved mine.

Isn’t that enough?

Dakota knocks on the guest room door. I jump as she pushes it open.

“How are we feeling? Less like death warmed over today?” She smiles brightly.

I moan, propping myself up on a couple pillows.

Seriously. I’d rather have whiplash than this monster crick in my back from spending God knows how long crushed in that suffocating box.

“My back still hurts, and I need coffee. Like now.”

“Easy, lady. They were pretty clear about caffeine interacting with your painkillers,” she says.

I glare at her.

“Caffeine is my painkiller and it makes me less stabby. You know the risks.”

She laughs. “I had a feeling you’d say that, so I brought you something.”

She lifts her hand from behind her back, revealing a tall cup with a familiar black-and-white logo.

Wired Cup.

I gasp, reaching for it excitedly, and immediately wince when my back reminds me I’m moving too fast. “You’re really going to let me have it?”

“It’s decaf.” She bites her lip. “Um, sorry. It’s all you get until you’re off the drugs.”

“Decaf is for wimps.” I roll my eyes.

I’m pouting, but I hold my hand out anyway, accepting it like the precious nectar it is.

Even decaf fit for a mouse is a step up from the lemon-water I’ve been sucking down like a desiccated cactus.

She places the cup in my hand and sits in the chair beside my bed.

I bring the cup to my lips and take a drink that strokes my entire soul.

“Oh my God! I haven’t had a good cup since I wound up in a thriller movie,” I say, going in for a second loud slurp.

Dakota beams like the sun. “I tried to get your campfire brew, but it’s not quite available yet.”

When I manage to unhook the cup from my lips, I say, “That’s okay. This is awesome. I love the Colombian-light stuff, even if it is de-crap.”

“Ah, now I know you’re getting better. You can still tell exactly what it is with two sips. So, how are you doing with—” She pauses, turning a hand in the air. “Everything else?”

Everything else meaning Cole.

We’ve been doing this carefully coded dance for the last few days.

It usually ends in my heart dumping out on the floor without even using his name.

Yes, I’m that sad.

Just saying it will break me.

Oh, Dakota offers all the advice, support, and whatever else without using his name. Just like the nicest happily married bestie you could ever hope for.

I sigh, turning the cup in my hand.

“I should’ve known better, Dakota. I mean, I’ve been burned before, right? Once bitten...I guess I’ll get over it. Someday.” I hope. “I think I’m going back to San Diego. I’ll work a day job until I can save enough money to open a small coffee shop on the Pacific Coast Highway. I didn’t realize how much I missed home until we were in Hawaii.”

“No way! You can’t leave me. Don’t move back to California. You’ve built a life here—and you’d better collect your licensing fees for that coffee, whether or not you let Crankyface back into the picture.”

“Like he’d want back in? I’ve been nothing but trouble. Before the whole saving my life thing, I lived in a studio apartment he was scared to let his daughter visit. There isn’t a lot holding me here. You have Lincoln and a cute baby girl. I have bills and blew my chance at love.”

I slump back, suddenly boneless.

“You have your best friend no matter what.” She points at herself cheerfully. “With your experience, you could get into any big coffee chain. Apply to the Mermaid’s R & D if you need something to do. They’re right here in Seattle. Or hell, see if you’ve got enough when the Wired Grump pays out to start up Liza’s Love.” She pauses again. “Also, if you’re dead set on leaving, it might make sense to work everything else out. If only for closure.”

My pout returns. “He hasn’t even called me since it happened...”

“No, but he called me to make sure you were okay. He waited for you all night. Lincoln said he looked like a kicked puppy when you didn’t ask for him.”

“I was so messed up in the head. And kind of afraid to talk,” I admit, staring down. “How could I even look at him after the way I cussed him out? After he went and saved my flipping life?”

Guilt jabs me in the stomach.

“Yeah, well, he definitely got the impression that you don’t want to talk to him. Not that I blame you,” she says with a sigh.

“But he’s not willing to find out why I’m afraid, is he? If he still cares—”

“Eliza. Pause.” Dakota takes a deep breath. “This dude borrowed another rich guy’s yacht and sailed it across the Puget Sound during the worst storm we’ve had in twenty years. He battled a man with an axe and rescued you from a giant fish chest. He told Lincoln he just wanted to kiss you even while you still smelled like a cat food factory. Um, it’s safe to say he cares.”