Under Locke(37)

Work was easy but it seemed even easier when Dex wasn’t within thirty feet. I managed to read my books in peace during my lunch break and got to know my coworkers when there was downtime. I couldn't really ask for much more.



So it was completely unexpected on Friday afternoon to be sitting in the back during my break, reading the book I’d picked up the day before, and hear, “What are you readin’?” coming from the doorway.



I looked up to see Dex standing there, hands shoved into his pockets, black hair going in a million different directions without his ball cap on. My eyes went from the text below me and back to him a couple of times before I answered vaguely. “A book from the library.” It was a historical romance novel, so I’d rather tell him that in detail in oh, a million years.



Right then, in that moment, Dex The Dick grinned. Grinned. And sweet mother of God, it was devastating. So completely catastrophic I just stood there and absorbed the nuclear bomb going off in front of me, defenseless.



His eyes glittered at the same time his eyebrows shot up. “The library?”



I liked the way he drew out the pronunciation, so I nodded.



“The public library?” he asked slowly.



“Yes,” I drew out the consonant.



His lips quirked on the corners. “They still have those?”



“They still have those,” I confirmed, glancing back down at my book, shutting it carefully after memorizing the page number. I swallowed hard and reminded myself to let my old resentment finish trickling away. Dex was obviously trying, so I could too.



“And you go to libraries?” he asked just as slow as he had a moment before.



Was he antagonizing me? I didn't think so. The up-tilt of his lips made it seem like he was more entertained and curious than just simply being a cruel jerk.



I held up the back cover of the novel I’d just been reading since there wasn’t a picture on it. “I like free stuff.”



Dex grinned wide again.



Holy crap. Those were rare.



“Babe, I can’t even remember the last time I read a book that wasn’t for school, much less the last time I went into a library without my ma forcin' me,” he admitted.



For some reason, the image of a Baby Dex with super blue eyes and crazy black hair pitching a fit as he was carried into the library by his mom, flashed through my head and it made me snort. That was probably the last time someone had forced him to do anything.



“Maybe you should go to the library then,” I told him. “They have all kinds of stuff you can check out.” Something nudged at me right then. It was the indulgent smile he gave me when I first told him about where I'd gotten the novel. Smart ass. I smiled slowly, feeling that familiar verbal geyser of crap ready to sprout out of my mouth and unable to control it. “Like picture books if the ones with words don’t work for you.”



Silence.



And then Dex tilted his head back and laughed so loud it made me smile even though I didn’t think he would appreciate it. To be honest, I was surprised that the tease came out of my mouth. Unintentional and all, but still, it was like tap dancing on ice with him. How thin was the ice? I’d never know. “All right, I probably deserved that, Ritz.”



Score one for Team Iris. If I could high-fived myself without looking crazy, I would have .



But luckily for both Dex and I, he started speaking again. “Come up front. We’re pullin' straws.”



“For what?” I asked him carefully. The last thing I needed or wanted was to pull straws to see who had to clean a backed up toilet.



He waved me forward, waiting until I was off my chair and at his side before explaining. “I didn't tell you about the conventions we go to?”



Pssh. I could have pointed out that he didn't really tell me anything period but I kept the comment to myself. “Nope,” I replied.



Dex shrugged like the absence of information wasn’t a big deal. “We hit up tattoo expos a couple times a year, and the next one is two weeks away in Houston.” He shot me a look as we walked down the hall toward the empty reception area. “We’re pullin’ straws to see who’s goin’ this time.”



That didn’t exactly sound like a bad thing. “But I just work the front desk,” I told him like he didn’t already know that.



Slim, who had wheeled his chair to sit in the middle of the shop like usual, was being nosey—also as usual—and listening in on our conversation. “Consider it a learning experience,” he claimed. “We always need help doing other stuff anyway.”



I thought about it for a second, and then shrugged. It’s not like I had anything else to do and if it was technically a part of my job, a job that I might not have for too much longer, then it'd be fine. “All right then.”