Dream Spinner (Dream Team Book 3) - Kristen Ashley (bearly read books .txt) 📗

of events, but belatedly share that I was seeing someone, I really liked him, and it’d be good if we all found a time to sit down together.

She’d been wary of Dad, “He’s pulling his usual stuff, Hattie, don’t fall for it,” and ecstatic about Axl, “I can’t wait to meet him! We’ll fix a time!”

Though, the second seemed weird and forced. However, not forced in the fact she was excited I was seeing someone I really liked, but the fix-the-time part.

Which was something to think on, though not at that time push her about.

Because Mom had had a few years of being in what, at times, I worried was a concerning funk, but the last couple of years, she seemed to be moving on from it.

But she never didn’t want to see me.

I didn’t like that and put it on my mental agenda to give her time and deal with it later.

Thursday also included me talking all this through with Axl after he took me out for our second date, Mexican at Blue Bonnet.

Axl concurred with Mom about being wary of Dad, and since he’d never met her, “Got no take, baby, but I’m lookin’ forward to meeting her.”

He also drove me to work, because he intended to stay for the show, and hang with me during my free times, because, “It’d suck, date two ended at eight o’clock.”

I mean, for heaven’s sake.

Was this guy awesome or what?

Which brought us to now.

Back at my place.

And Axl had discovered the creamer.

He hadn’t filled his drawer (though I’d shown it to him, and the slow smile was so worth the struggle of trying to make space for him—what could I say, I liked clothes and I had a walk-in, but it wasn’t Kardashian level).

I hadn’t filled the drawers he’d cleared for me.

But this was real.

It was happening.

And all those things I’d discovered about him that first day in his house were panning out.

We were compatible.

Like, crazy compatible.

He hung up his towel.

I did too.

He rinsed his whiskers from the sink (he’d brought over a razor, and shave cream).

I had no whiskers, but if I did, I’d rinse them.

He put his coffee mug in the dishwasher, I did as well.

We both liked Mexican.

We both liked going down on each other.

We both liked lots and lots (and lots) of sex.

I liked to dance when he was at the club.

He liked to watch me.

I mean, were we not perfect?

On this thought, he came down the steps into my bedroom carrying two mugs of coffee.

I pushed up on an elbow. “Which one did you go for?”

“I got a toffeenut and a cinnamon. Which one you want?”

Hmm.

Tough choice.

He sat on the bed facing me and I asked, “Which one do you want?”

“I don’t care. You got all the best flavors. I’m good either way.”

I was too!

See!

We were perfect!

Since he didn’t seem prepared to head straight out the door, in order to get caffeine and more time with Axl, and not spend that time talking about who wanted what, I decided, “Cinnamon.”

He handed me a mug.

I adjusted the pillows and scooched up to rest a shoulder against them so I could take a sip.

“You down with me putting a litter box in your utility so Cleo can come over?” he asked after he took his own. Then he shot me a handsome grin. “Like the other girl in my life, she likes alone time, but I got the cold shoulder yesterday when I went over to give her breakfast. She didn’t even come into the kitchen. Just sat in the doorway giving me the evil eye.”

I was surprised this wasn’t Cleo’s normal morning ritual.

Still, I replied, “Oh no. Totally, it’s okay to set her up here. Since you’re working, I’ll go out and get the stuff. Is she particular?”

He grinned again. “What do you think?”

She was particular.

Man, I liked that cat.

“I’ll text you a pic of her sitch at my place and the brand of litter,” he said.

“Cool.”

“You got Mac’s shower tomorrow,” he noted mysteriously.

“Yup,” I confirmed.

“Sunday, wanna take you and your dad to a Rockies game. They’re in town and got a day game.”

Mystery immediately solved.

But all I could do was stare at him.

He didn’t miss me staring at him, and not only because he couldn’t, considering he was practically sitting in my lap.

“You don’t think that’s a good idea?” he asked.

“I … don’t …” I pulled it together. “I don’t think I’ve done anything fun with Dad in, uh …I don’t know. Maybe ten years.”

“Then it’s time,” he stated.

Maybe he was right.

“I’ll call and ask him.”

He nodded.

“Is there a reason why you want to take Dad to a baseball game?” I queried.

“Only that, if he’s been thinkin’ on shit, and sees that your relationship hasn’t been healthy, and sees at this time in your life, you shouldn’t be weighed down with the health and welfare of a parent, maybe you should show him it’s time to be father and daughter friends. Like you’re friends with your mom.”

Friends with my dad.

Doing something fun with my dad.

“He really likes baseball,” I said quietly. “When I was young, he’d take me to games a lot.”

On this thought, one I hadn’t had in a long time, I felt something happen in my belly.

Something weird.

Warm, but not.

Because that “not” part was scared.

“I think that’s why I like hot dogs,” I shared. “Because that was the only time he’d buy me something crappy to eat and not give me shit about it. All the pressure that seemed to be there between us wasn’t at the ball field. We’d have fun. He taught me how to keep score. He explained strategy. I wasn’t really interested in it. But I was interested in being like that with my dad.”

“Then I hit on the right thing,” Axl said softly, his eyes the same on me.

“I’ll call him,” I decided to take the risk. Give in to a little hope. Think positively when I thought about my dad for the first time since I was fourteen.