For the next two days, Dillon and Jamie did a sort of polite dance around each other. Their conversations were comfortable enough, but there was no hint of the romance Dillon was aching for.
Megan kept telling him to give Jamie time, and not to push. Dillon knew she was right, but the one taste he’d had of Jamie had him longing for more of the same. If Jamie felt the same urges, though, he hid it well.
Dillon groaned as another ridge from the lumpy sofa bed frame pressed into his back. He really needed to go apartment hunting. Not only was he working on a serious case of bed back, but he just couldn’t stand to keep living in this mess Heath called an apartment.
Not without a tetanus shot. He’d cleaned where he could, but his efforts were futile in the face of all of that filth. Dillon
