Snapshot (Lessons in Love Book 2)

Ipromised I’d stop doing this. One-night stands don’t lead to happily ever after. Get that through your head, Lennox.

But fuck, Dex makes my knees weak. His body looks like it was carved from marble. And I love that this close, I have to look up to see his eyes. A few feet away, his hazel eyes look more tan than green. But from this angle, where he’s so close that I can feel the warmth coming off his body, his eyes are clearly emerald. Completely hypnotizing.

There’s also the small matter that I accidentally grazed his dick, and from what I gathered, even the tip seems like it’d be overwhelming. Now he’s inviting me to strip down naked and hop into his fancy shower.

Where’s the crime, Lennox? You’re single. He’s…well, actually. Perhaps I should confirm.

“Be honest. Are you single?” I ask Dex.

His eyes were on my lips. Now, they’ve dipped a little lower, landing on my chest. “Yes,” he answers without hesitation.

“But I mean really single. So, no wife, no girlfriend, but also no hopeful girl you’ve been chatting up that’s waiting by her phone, expecting you to call her tonight?”

He laughs. “No. Definitely no one I’m calling each night. Well, my grandma. But I usually just text her goodnight.”

My face melts into a goofy, bemused smile. “You text your grandma goodnight? Aww.”

He laughs but rolls his eyes. “She worries and likes to know I’m alive. But yeah, maybe we can add that to your list of unattractive things. I’m a total grandma’s boy.”

“No, that’s pretty attractive, actually. Definitely not my usual type.”

If Charlie has a grandmother, she’s Ursula, and she’s torturing unsuspecting mermaids as we speak. Well, I can only assume. He never introduced me to his family. After I dumped him for cheating on me, he spent days begging me to forgive him, but my mother taught me better than to believe his bullshit. His apologies weren’t genuine. He was just frustrated that he couldn’t have his way.

Once he knew it was really over, he grew mean. One time, in a weed-laced, drunken stupor, he told me I was always his placeholder girl anyway. The girl you keep around until you find the girl you actually want to keep.

That hurt.

I mean, it was probably the first honest thing he ever told me.

But it hurt.

“So the shower is a little complicated,” Dex says, leading me to the corner of his bathroom. “There are two nozzles. One for each showerhead. But the water gets hot fast, so please be careful. Don’t crank the handles all the way.”

“Did you seriously just ‘mansplain’ turning on a shower to me?”

“I was just—” He stops, holding up his hands, a smile breaking free from his pretend-offended expression. “Wow. You’re just a little shit starter, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m trouble. Feel free to kick me out.”

His laugh tapers off to a breathy chuckle. “No, Trouble, that’s okay. I think I’ll keep you. I’ll leave you to shower in peace. But just know if you scald yourself, the ‘I told you so’ I give you will be loud and relentless.”

“I thought you were going to stay and watch.”

He licks his lips and tries to control his grin. “It was just playful flirting, Lennox. I don’t think I could watch you and not…” He clears his throat. “Anyway, I’ll be right outside in the bedroom. Maybe I’ll go sign up for a Netflix account.” He winks, and I burst out laughing. A laugh that brews deep from my belly and overflows.

Oh, I’m definitely in trouble. He’s so sexy. So flirty. Funny. Protective. Charming. Sexy again. I just want to rub up against his body like a cat and make him my favorite scratching post.

Once he disappears from view, I peel off my stained bralette and toss it in the sink to soak with my lace blouse. I yank down my shorts, which are probably unsalvageable. Fucking Charlie. And it’s not like I can replace them. I struck gold at the thrift store. These are my favorite summer shorts.

I kick them aside, walk into Dex’s enormous shower, and turn both handles. I yelp when the water goes from cool to burning within seconds. I’d dart to the other side, but there are two rain showerheads overhead, spanning the entire shower. I have to endure the boiling downpour as I lunge for the handles and turn them to half-mast.

I cradle my shoulders, now an angry red, until the water feels safely warm. Then, I grab the shampoo and deposit a large dollop into my hand. I take a little sniff. Definitely something fancier than I use. I usually go with Garnier Fructis, whatever scent is on clearance at Walmart. Dex uses something from a salon, I’m sure of it. This smells like lavender and tea tree oil. In fact, Dex’s shower, much like his house, is a little over the top. It has features similar to my parents’ old house.

My mom poured over the design of their new build. Dad happily indulged in every single upgrade, especially in the bathroom. All the countertops were granite, top-tier finishings for the handles and faucets, and marbled tile laid on top of heated floors. And the tub. Mom loves baths, which is why Dad insisted she go with a jetted tub so large it looked like they shoved a full-size hot tub into the corner of their master bathroom.

Their new house doesn’t have a single bathtub. Just a shower, but Mom never complains or dwells on what they had…then lost.

Knock, knock.

I spin to see Dex standing just outside of the shower with his hand over his eyes. He points to the left with his free hand. “Towel and a shirt you can borrow. I’m going to grab your dirty clothes.” I know he’s not looking at me naked because he thinks he’s pointing to the sink, where he left a folded towel and T-shirt on top. He’s actually gesturing to the door that I’m assuming the toilet is behind.

“Thanks,” I say, poking my head out of the shower so he can hear me. “I’ll just be another minute.”

I wait until he disappears from the bathroom before I tiptoe to the sink. I’m dripping water everywhere, so after I pat my body down and sop up the excess from my hair, I clean his bathroom floor using the towel to mop up the trail I left.

I have no underwear, so I pray this T-shirt is long enough. It looks new. It’s folded very flat, the way shirts are only once when they are fresh out of the factory. Once I shake it out, I’m pleasantly surprised to see a logo I recognize. Discover Dives? Excited to ask Dex how he has a T-shirt from the dive shop, I pull the shirt on overhead. It’s a literal dress on me.

After scurrying out of the bathroom and through the closet, I find Dex lounging on his bed. He has one hand tucked behind his head as he scrolls through his phone. I let myself admire him for about ten seconds before asking, “Hey, how do you know Discover Dives?” I point to the logo of a hammerhead shark on the chest of my T-shirt.

His eyes lift and brighten, matching my enthusiasm. “You know it? I own it. I’ll be running classes soon. That shirt was with some leftover inventory I found in boxes last week. It’s smaller than my other shirts. I thought it’d fit you better.”

“You’re kidding me. You’re the new owner? That’s…wow. Small world.” Looking up at his vaulted ceiling and the elegant crown molding that covers every inch of his enormous bedroom, a realization washes over me. “I would’ve never guessed you owned a dive shop.”

“Why?” Dex sits up, setting one foot on the ground so he can face me.

“I didn’t get the impression from Jacob that dive instructors made a ton of money.” I rotate my wrist, gesturing around his room. “And you have a really nice place.”

“They don’t. My old job did,” he mumbles. I wait, but he seems unwilling to elaborate.

“Oh.”

“You knew the old owner? I think my grandma and him were good friends back in the day.”

I nod. “Jacob Hayes.”

After joining Dex on the bed, I remind myself I don’t have underwear on and to keep my thighs clamped tightly shut. If I relax my legs, this man is going to get much more than a peep show. He’d get a full-on, front-row seat to my at-home, DIY Brazilian wax job.

“Jacob used to come into the restaurant I worked at. I was only seventeen, and the restaurant wouldn’t give me the good shifts because I couldn’t legally bartend yet. My family had just gone through some tough times, and I needed cash. So, Jacob hired me at the dive shop.” I smile at the memory. “He paid me under the table to stock inventory, reserve the pool at the rec center for classes, return customer calls when their equipment was in, that sort of thing. Jacob was the only reason I had some new clothes and gas money my senior year.”

Dex smiles. “Seems like a nice enough guy.”

“Nice guy? Jacob was…was…” I search my brain for the right word. How the hell do I sum up Jacob Hayes? “Legendary. That’s the best way to describe him. Everybody loved him. He was always smiling. And he had the best stories. He literally traveled the world diving and sailing. It sucked when he passed away a few years ago. Everybody tried to pitch in and keep the shop running in his honor, but we just couldn’t hold it together. I was too young and wasn’t certified to teach. Mel moved to Cali. Sanders is even more broke than I am, not to mention he’s in a very committed relationship with his bong. And Delilah got married and had twins. She didn’t have time to run the shop.” I hold up my hands, shaking them around. “I’m droning on but what I mean to say is, I’m so glad someone bought it. It’s a really special place.”

“It sounds like I have big shoes to fill.”

I widen my eyes. “Huge.”

“Why didn’t his kids do something with it?” Dex asks.

Shaking my head, I shrug. “As far as I know, no kids. No wife. Just a life full of adventure.”

“I see.” Dex’s eyes shift down and to the left like he’s debating something. After a quick moment of contemplation, he places his hand on my knee. “So, what’s been your favorite place to dive?”

I point to my chest, trying to act casual. But his large hand on my knee has me wanting to jump right out of my skin. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I don’t have one. I just pitched in at the shop. I’ve never been scuba diving. I can swim. I just don’t do ocean stuff.”

Dex stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What do you mean you don’t do ‘ocean stuff?’”

I feel like I was pretty clear. I don’t like the ocean and I don’t want to get scuba certified. My top five worst fears go like this: One, getting eaten by a shark. Two, getting bitten by a shark and then bleeding to death in the ocean. Three, being pulled to the ocean floor by a giant octopus and being squeezed to death. Four, getting eaten by a shark again. Five, getting mistaken for a seal and an orca crushing my bones like I’m a doggie chew toy.

“I’m just more of a pool kind of girl. Where there are no sharks.”

“Oh, you’re one of those,” he says, squeezing my knee. I don’t appreciate his nonchalance at my paralyzing fear, but his hand is inching higher up my leg, and my brain has gone too fuzzy to snap back with something sassy. “Lennox, you have a much higher chance of drowning in the ocean than encountering an aggressive shark. And if by some miraculous chance a shark bit you, I promise it’d be only once—accidental or exploratory. Most bite victims survive.”

“Wow.” Now, it’s my turn to stare at him like he’s crazy.

He notices my vexed expression and asks, “What?”

“Oh, I’m just picturing what the coroner’s face would look like as they write ‘accidental’ or ‘exploratory’ nibble as the cause of death in my file.”

He laughs and gently pats my mid-thigh, sending tingles up my spine. “You can’t let irrational fear keep you out of the ocean.”

“Oh, I can. And I do.”

“Certify with me,” he insists.

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t afford it. And let me reiterate…I don’t want to.”

“Free of charge. I’m new to instruction, and I could use the help. You can be my practice student and give me feedback on how I’m doing as a teacher. In exchange, I’ll pay for your certs, get you custom-fitted equipment, and everything else you need. What do you say?”

It becomes abundantly clear that Dex understands exactly how good-looking he is and the effect he has on women. He purposely ducks his head and looks up at me through his thick, dark lashes. He even goes as far as batting them a bit. “I’ll give you private lessons, and we’ll take baby steps. We don’t even have to do your open water cert in the ocean. We could do a lake if you prefer.”

I drop my jaw. “Lakes are worse. That’s where man-eating saltwater crocodiles live. I assure you, their bites would not be accidental.”

“Man-eating saltwater crocodiles?” he asks in disbelief. “How much time are you spending watching the SyFy network?”

I start counting the killer marine animal movies I’ve binged on the SyFy network in my head but lose track around eight. “Not a lot.”

Dex laughs. “Listen, Lennox. There’s a whole other world down there. It’s unbelievable. When you’re diving, it makes all your actual problems seem so small. There’s a peaceful harmony in the ocean that is so intricately perfect that you start thinking that humans don’t know what the fuck they’re doing up here. When I’m fed up with this world, I find solace in the one below. It’s a freedom you can’t explain.” He holds my gaze. “You just have to experience it.”

I swear he could tell me to jump off a bridge or take a nap in a bonfire with that look on his face, and I’d do it.

“Okay, fine,” I say. “Teeny, tiny baby steps. One lesson to start. And I want actual reports with statistics about the unlikeliness of a shark encounter before I even consider getting in the ocean.”

“You got it,” he replies quickly, a triumphant smile on his face.

I push against his shoulder. “Well, see? There you go. Already filling the big shoes. Jacob could never get me to agree to a lesson. He tried.”

“Ah, well good to know you like me more than Jacob Hayes. I’m honored.”

I flash him a smartass smirk. “I didn’t say I like you more. I’m just implying you’re way more persuasive.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

He drags his tongue over his dark pink lips, wetting them, causing a wave of desire to shoot up my thighs. I shouldn’t. I promised myself that from here on out, I’d only go for guys who ask me out like cordial gentlemen. Three dates, then they get dessert. It’s not because I’m a prude. I’m just trying to weed out the assholes and heartbreakers.

But Dex is so tempting that it’s hard to find my self-control at the moment. I’m no match. He’s tall, muscular, tan, with raven-colored hair. His dark hair makes his light eyes pop. I’m such a sucker for hazel eyes. Weak for deep dimples. Completely powerless for a man who’s witty and smirks like that.

I don’t believe in instant love. But I do believe in chemistry. And yes, I believe it’s chemical. Like a physical feeling. Stupid, giddy, butterfly tingles. The kind of overwhelming attraction that makes all reason leave your brain. Two people are either destined to have it or not. Love takes time to grow, but chemistry explodes right out of the gate.

And if my hunch is right, Dex and I most definitely have chemistry.

I place my hand on his knee with no hesitation. My fingertips are on the warpath up his thighs, telling him exactly what’s on my mind. “My hair is getting your shirt all wet,” I say in a cracked whisper that’s mostly from nerves, but it comes out sort of dangerously sexy. I roll with it. “Maybe you should take it back now.”

I close my eyes and put my mouth on his, but instead of full, warm lips fervently kissing me back, I feel him pull away.

“Wait,” he says.

Dex has fantastic reflexes. He dodges my kiss and catches my hand so quickly that, at first, I don’t even register it’s his rejection. “That was me trying to Netflix and chill.” I try to sound playful, but now the nerves bubbling under my skin aren’t from desire. It’s from embarrassment.

“I’m flattered. I really am. But I’m serious about the diving stuff.”

“Is there a no-sex oath for scuba divers I’m unaware of?”

He laughs, which makes me relax a little. I really like the way he laughs. It starts with his eyes first. They crinkle in the corners, and then his lips catch up, spreading into that charming grin. Then there’s the rich baritone of the sound.

“Look, if I can be honest, I haven’t made a lot of friends here. I normally don’t have much in common with people, but you’re easy to talk to. I like you.”

“Those are all good things, right?”

“Yeah, great things.” His expression turns solemn, and I know he’s about to say something I don’t agree with. “But in my experience, sex is the best way to fuck up a budding friendship. And I guess what I’m saying is, as much as I’d like to see you naked, I think I’d prefer to see you again tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s actually…nice. We can go slow. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression here.” The flood of excitement returns, making the hairs rise on the back of my neck. I thought Dex would be a fun night, but now he’s saying all this stuff about seeing me tomorrow. What are the chances that he’s actually a freaking decent guy? Thank you, universe. I was due for a little good luck. “I’m not usually a hook-up kind of girl. I think I kind of got caught up in the moment. But, full transparency, I’m a relationship junkie. So, it’s great if you want to slow down, hang out tomorrow first, and see where things go⁠—”

“I’m not,” Dex interrupts. He sucks in his lips, a look of remorse on his face. “I’m sorry. I’m not a relationship junkie, to borrow your words.”

This conversation is giving me whiplash. Hope, then bitter disappointment swinging like a pendulum back and forth with every verbal exchange. “Oh, so you meant see me naked or see me tomorrow.”

“Right.”

An uncomfortable ache balloons in my chest to the point it might burst. I’ve had guys pretend to like me, sleep with me, and then never call again. But this is a brand-new form of rejection. It was a little sneaky, and quite frankly, I feel led on. But maybe I led myself on. I knocked on his door. Asked to use his shower. Climbed on his bed. I’m the one who misread every single sign.

“It’s nothing personal. I’m just not dating right now. And I don’t want to be another guy to waste your time.”

I raise my brows at him. Oh, come on. That seems like a lazy lie. A guy who looks like him is never not dating. But it’s not my business.

“Okay. Well, thanks for your honesty.” I show him a clipped smile.

He rubs his palms nervously against his jeans. “Are you leaving now?”

Turning my head slowly, I gawk as I meet his eyes. I try to scoff, but what comes out is an incredulous cackle. “Wait a minute, you’re going to turn me down and boot me out of your bedroom wearing nothing but a thin T-shirt? I didn’t kick your cat, man. All I did was try to kiss you. I meant that to be flattering, at least.”

He laughs in relief. “Oh shit, no. I’m not kicking you out. I just thought you’d be pissed at me. You’re not about to storm out and cancel all the scuba stuff?”

I draw in a small breath, then release it with gusto. “No. If I cancel the scuba stuff, it’s because I will forever be deathly afraid of sharks.”

He smirks at me. “Oh, come on, Trouble. I swear on my life I won’t let a shark eat you.”

“Promise?”

He nods once. “Promise.”

“Then, we’re cool, Dex.” I make a fist with my free hand and hold it out to him. “Friends?”

He taps his knuckles to mine, his charming grin sweet and relieved. “Friends.”

There’s a heavy ball of humiliation sinking deep into my gut. I can almost hear the thud as it settles into the pit of my stomach like a lead cannonball hitting the ocean floor. Hope squashed. Feelings unreturned. Chemistry snuffed right out. But it’s okay. I cope how I always cope.

If I pretend like it’s not a big deal…

Eventually, it just won’t feel like such a big deal.