Page 79 of Dirty Like Dylan

He was wearing a fitted green sweater that he must’ve known made his eyes look fucking amazing, to say nothing of his biceps. And his forearms… His sleeves were casually pushed up and I could barely stand to look at the exposed skin there, the lines of the muscles and veins… or not look. I didn’t know if it was the drumming or the weightlifting or just plain fantastic genetics, but something had given this man the sexiest forearms I’d ever seen.

There was wine in my glass, and Dylan had already ordered food for us. He seemed to know the restaurant’s most delicious offerings, even taking into account my vegetarianism. I’d never eaten here before, so I didn’t mind his recommendations. He also poured my wine instead of letting the waitress do it.

It sure as hell felt like a date, so far.

“So,” he said, as soon as the waitress had departed with our order, “I wanted to pay you for your work.” Then he produced a check from his pocket and slid it across the table toward me.

“Oh. Thank you.” I glanced at it. It was a personal check, signed by him. And the amount had one more digit on it than I’d been expecting for three days’ work. “This is too much,” I told him.

“I threw some extra on there. Figured it might take you an extra day or two to go through all those images you took, do that retouching you mentioned.”

Wow. Generous and thoughtful. “That’s really covered by the generous day rate, Dylan.”

He just shrugged that off.

“Thank you,” I repeated, and tucked the check away.

“You’re welcome.” His gaze drifted over my face, and I sipped my wine, feeling conspicuous of the makeup I’d worn, however subtle. Was it occurring to him that I’d never worn makeup in his presence before? Did men notice things like that? “And now that we’ve gotten that out of the way… you’re coming back with me tonight, right?”

“I’m…” I swallowed kind of hard, almost choking on my wine. “That’s direct. Can I try the food first?”

Dylan laughed his easy laugh. “I just wondered if the fact that you took your travel backpack with you to Liv’s meant we’d lost you.”

We?

“I don’t know. I’m finished photographing your house. I don’t want to outstay my welcome.” I could feel my cheeks heating up, thanks to the heady rush of my first couple of generous sips of wine and the embarrassment: the real reason I’d fled the island.

Because I’d screwed Ashley and couldn’t deal with it.

Why did I think I needed to wear blush again?

“You are welcome,” Dylan said, his green eyes looking extra-golden in the candlelight as they held mine, “at my place. And at Ash’s.”

“Dylan,” I began, awkwardly, “that’s really generous, but—”

“I can take you back on the boat tonight,” he said casually, ignoring my protests. “We can pick up your things from Liv’s.”

I stared at him, just trying to process his words.

Okay. What the hell was going on here? The work was done. He could easily brush me off now.

Honestly, this was usually where they brushed me off. You know, like right when I started to really hope that they wouldn’t.

Unless, of course… he actually did like me?

Fuck me.

Why was I so terrible at this? Like for fuck’s sake, already. I seriously wanted to blurt out, So do you like dick or pussy or what???

But I managed to bite my tongue on that.

“Can I think about it?” I asked.

“Of course.”

I stared at him. Everything about him said relaxed, from the casual way he leaned on his elbows on the table, to the lazy way he sipped his beer. But the look in his eyes was sharp, interested, and laser-locked on me. Actually, he was giving me sex eyes. Just like he did at Zane’s party.

Only this time, as up-close and sober as I was… I was sure of it.