by Sierra Hill
And since returning to San Diego, the stress of the school board and suspension had put such a strain on her both physically and mentally, she could barely function, much less eat.
Sloane had yet to hear from the administration or the Superintendent on whether she was cleared of any wrong doing, and if her suspension would be lifted. The wait was driving her mad.
It was tormenting her knowing that her future hung in the balance and in the hands of the school administration. The media had been hounding her for over a week, trying to get answers and details to their sordid questions. Even in line at the grocery store, the cashier gave Sloane her own version of what she would’ve done had it been her fiancé who got caught and arrested. Everyone’s an expert.
Sloane spent her days sleeping, surfing or watching Netflix, avoiding any gossip and rumors by not watching the news or interacting with any of her teacher friends. The only people she had any sort of conversations with were Trista, who cheerfully filled her in on current events, and her parents. Otherwise, she secluded herself in her home and became a twenty-four-year-old hermit.
Sloane reluctantly acknowledged her mother’s comment.
“I know, Mother. But I’m sure you can imagine that food is not exactly at the top of my list of priorities right now.”
Her mother clucked her tongue, pushing a tray of croissants in Sloane’s direction.
“Well, perhaps you have more than the school board situation on your mind. Hmm?”
Sloane jerked her eyes toward her mother, who wore a knowing grin.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
There was the patting of the hand again. “Oh, Sloane. I don’t know why you feel the need to keep it a secret from us, darling. We can see right through you, and it’s painfully obvious that you’ve been missing someone.”
Her brows pinched together inquisitively. Her mother was not wrong, of course, but she wasn’t right about who she assumed Sloane missed. Sloane shook her head to deny her mother’s comment.
“Sorry to disappoint, but I do not miss, Blaine one bit, Mother.”
Darla let out a small chirp of laughter. “Of course not dear. I didn’t mean you missed Blaine, darling. I meant that you miss Dylan.”
Now Sloane was in complete surprise. She had no idea her mother was clairvoyant.
Not once had she ever mentioned Dylan’s name, either while she was in Boston, or after she returned home. When Sloane had spoken about him, it was in general reference to the work he was doing on the bar. She’d called him the “electrician,” feeling foolish, but protective of their relationship. She’d never once mentioned his name – or good Lord – the fact that she’d been sleeping with him. Her mother would have had a complete hissy fit, and probably need a Botox injection to eliminate the wrinkles that would pop up over her concern.
So how in the world did her mother know about him?
Sloane sensed his presence even before she felt the warmth of his touch on her shoulders. Or heard the low vibration of his voice in her ears.
“Hello, Sloane.”
Sloane’s head whipped around as she tried to get a good look at what was obviously some sort of apparition. She had slurped down that mimosa pretty quickly on an empty stomach. Maybe she was already tipsy and hallucinating.
Because there was no other explanation as to why Dylan Hemmons would be standing in front of her, at her parents’ country club during Sunday brunch.
She expelled a gasp when she turned to find Dylan, dressed in a suit coat and tie, standing behind her seat.
“Oh my God. Wh-what are you doing here?”
It came out as an accusation. Definitely not her intention, but she was justified and confused at the incongruous nature of his appearance.
The only answer she received to her question was the all-too-brief kiss he placed on her cheek. He quickly turned to shake hands with her father, and then gave her mother a hug in greeting.
And what was that look on her mother’s face? Sloane thought it might signal elation.
“Thank you for inviting me, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald. This is a beautiful establishment.”
Sloane watched in amazement, feeling like she was suspended in some sort of third dimensional time-zone, as Dylan took the seat across the table from her. His actions and words made his appearance seem so normal, like he was a regular guest or member of the elite club.
Dylan was a chameleon, fitting in perfectly in his suit and dress slacks, his gelled hair styled back away from his face, his sculpted biceps bulging underneath the fabric of his jacket. Even though she’d rarely seen him in anything other than T-shirt and jeans, Dylan looked unbelievably hot dressed up in fancy attire.
Her mother’s unusually high, flirty voice brought Sloane out of her head and back to the reason for her shock.
“Dylan, I’m so glad you could join us today. I was just telling Sloane that she’s just not been herself since she returned from Boston. She’s not eating. She’s mopey. Perhaps your presence will remind her what it feels like to enjoy life again.”
Sloane glared at her mother and was about to make a snide remark when she felt a pair of size twelve shoes wrap around her bare legs underneath the table. Her gaze veered from her mother’s devious face and landed on Dylan’s, who wore a smirk a mile wide.
“Well, I’ll do my best. Hopefully she’ll be open to being my tour guide while I’m out here. Since I’ve never been to San Diego, I’d love to have her give me the inside scoop on all the best attractions.”
The way Dylan emphasized the words inside and attractions had Sloane blushing from the dirty thoughts that raced through her mind. And if the heated intensity of his stare was any indication, Dylan was thinking the exact same things.
“So what do you say, Sloane?”
“Uh – what?” She was caught daydreaming about what Dylan would look like naked and dripping wet after a day of surfing.
His laughter stroked her skin like a feathered touch and sent shivers ricocheting down between her legs. Dylan knew exactly what he was doing to her. And in front of her parents, that jerk.
“Are you going to be my tour guide?”
She shook her head in agreement as she glanced between all three people sitting around the table. Her mother’s smile was genuine. Her father’s face looked pleased, if not a bit protective. And Dylan’s looked eager. Like he might just jump across the table and rip off her dress right there in front of the entire country club.
She nibbled on a piece of croissant and swallowed, trying to get her heart rate under control, which was racing a hundred miles per hour.
It was clear now how much she’d missed Dylan. And not just the sex. But all of him. His fun-loving nature. His goofiness. The way he made her smile and feel protected.
The way he made her feel his love.
Although she’d been going through a devastating time over the last few weeks, uncertainty looming about the future of her career, she hadn’t felt complete. There was an empty hole in her heart that left her unbearably sullen and cold.
But five minutes after seeing Dylan again, all the worry and anxiety she’d been carrying inside seemed to dissipate. Everything felt right in her world again.
“I think that will be a lovely idea. How long will you be able to stay, Dylan?” Her mother was obviously already fast-tracking things with Dylan, based on the inflection in her voice.
Dylan flashed a crooked grin. “As long as it takes for Sloane to teach me how to ride some waves. Could be weeks before I catch on. I’m a slow learner.” He winked at her mother. What a flirt.
Her parents chuckled good-naturedly, apparently all in on the joke, as the waiter came by to take their orders. Sloane took the opportunity to stare at Dylan, trying to express all the emotions that were running rampant through her at the moment.
Happiness.
Joy.
Frustration.
Desire.
She wanted more than anything to get out of there so she could take
him back to her place. So they could be alone. She’d slap him upside the head for showing up without warning, and then she’d get him naked and tease him mercilessly for his unexpected visit. And then…
“Sweetheart, Dylan told us that you’ve been doing a wonderful job managing the bar and have really put a lot of sweat equity into reestablishing it,” her father’s gentle voice stated. “We’re so proud of your business acumen and initiative, darling.”
Sloane flapped her hand in the air. “Oh, it’s nothing. Dylan and his crew have done all the major work. It looks so much better than it did. And the staff there is so competent. Uncle Patsy did a great job hiring a strong team. I trust them implicitly.”
“Your modesty is too much, Sloane. You deserve much more credit than you’re giving yourself.”
Dylan leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, giving his attention to her father. “Sloane worked her fingers to the bone cleaning that place up. She spent long, grueling hours behind the bar, in the kitchen, and in the office learning about the business and finding ways to turn the place around. I know for a fact that her staff loves her and wants her back. They miss her.”
Dylan’s eyes flashed to Sloane’s and she saw the truth of his statement. He wanted her back. He missed her. And the guilt of her leaving him without warning ate her up inside.
Her father leaned over and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze and a pat on the back. “Well, we have no doubt that if this thing with the school board doesn’t go in the direction she wants, she has her new business to fall back on. And we’re proud of her either way.”
Oh shit. No, don’t bring that up.
Sloane immediately saw the change in Dylan’s features as he considered the implication in her father’s words. Sloane had intentionally kept all the ugly business of what had happened with Blaine and the investigation a secret from Dylan. She didn’t want Dylan to know what a fool she’d been and how her ignorance and naïveté had helped to create the monster that was her life.
She saw in his eyes that Dylan decided to let it go for now and leave the question for later about her father’s comment.
But his hooded eyes told her he wouldn’t forget about it. And as soon as she told him, she knew in her heart it would be goodbye.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Since he’d taken a cab to the country club earlier, Dylan hitched a ride with Sloane back to her home. Not surprising, she’d been relatively quiet through the remainder of their brunch, with the majority of the conversation transpiring between himself, Darla and Eamon. Sloane sat silently observing their exchange, offering up answers to questions only when directly asked.
After meeting Darla in her gallery the day before, and explaining who he was and why he wanted to talk to Sloane, (and reassuring her that he wasn’t some creepy stalker), she’d invited him to join them for brunch. He’d also shown her pictures of some of his sculptures he’d created, in which she seemed very interested.
Although a bit apprehensive about Sloane feeling ambushed, Dylan knew there had to be a reason why she’d not returned any of his calls since she left. It was obviously something bigger than she let on and it must have been a game changer if it was enough to interfere with her teaching job. When her father mentioned the investigation and hearing, Dylan shoved that topic away for later.
He would get to the bottom of it while he was out here, but in the meantime, Dylan needed to break the deafening silence between them. He needed to make her smile. It was purely for selfish reasons, because he’d missed the gorgeous smile on her face.
“Hey, you wanna hear a joke about my dick?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Dylan observed Sloane sit in a shroud of tight silence. They were at a red light, and Sloane’s fingers tapped a rhythmic beat against her steering wheel, even though no music played, a weary expression across her tanned skin. The California sun gave her a healthy, beautiful glow. Her blond hair was pulled to the side in a braid, cascading over her right shoulder, covering a portion of her face. But he saw the gleam in her eye as she turned to face him, her teeth biting down on her lower lip. She looked both amused and ready to strangle him.
“Sure. Okay.”
“Eh, never mind. It’s too long.”
Silence permeated the car, until her giggle burst out like it had been lodged in her throat and someone had just done the Heimlich. Dylan sat still, admiring the perfect sound of her laughter, watching as her eyes gleamed with mirth. Her hands flew from the steering wheel to cover her face, a fit of laughter causing her body to shake and tremble.
Taking the opportunity in front of him, Dylan leaned over and removed her hands, entwining his fingers in hers before placing his lips on hers. The kiss was only meant to be a sweet kiss. Of gratitude. Of happiness over seeing her again.
But the hunger caused by her absence over the last few weeks, and the incredible need that had built up inside him, turned the kiss into something heavy. Something savage. An inferno ready to consume him – flesh, body and soul.
Sloane pulled away first. Either from the intensity of the kiss or from the blare of the horn from the car behind them. Either way, Dylan’s chest rose and fell with the quick tempo of his pulse. He noticed Sloane’s lips were pursed in a tight line, her profile stoic, her pert nose wrinkled, as if she’d just discovered a foul smell.
“Shit…I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”
He wasn’t really apologizing for the kiss, only for his inability to control his impulse to devour her whenever he was around her.
It had never been this way with any other woman. Since he’d first become involved with Sloane, he’d told himself it was short-term. He was quenching a thirst. She was getting whatever she needed out of it, and so was he. It should have been the easiest fling he’d ever had.
But then emotions got involved. And then he’d come to the realization that he may be in love with her. There was no rhyme or reason why this could have happened in the short time that it did.
When all was said and done, they shouldn’t have made a good match. It made no sense to him. They were polar opposites. She was an educated, beautiful, California girl. He was a tough former Marine from Southie.
They were from the proverbial other side of the tracks. Those things never worked. Sloane should be sticking her nose up in the air at him. It was he who stunk like the white trash he was. He wasn’t good enough to even be breathing the same air as Sloane Fitzgerald.
Dylan exhaled a sigh, throwing his head back against the cushioned headrest. He closed his eyes to block out the mid-day sun that was practically blinding him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Sloane squeeze his thigh.
“Are you going to enlighten me on why you’re here? And how you became acquainted with my parents? You guys sure seemed chummy.”
Her voice was soft, with a smile hidden there for good measure. He supposed she could’ve been downright mad at him for just showing up so unexpectedly. But from what he could tell, she seemed almost relieved. Dare he say, happy to see him?
Her sweet and reassuring gesture on his leg sent sparks of electricity up his body. His dick immediately took the directive, hardening against the zipper of his new trousers. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but her fingers began a slow ascent up toward the bulge in his pants, which was growing painfully hard the closer she got.
“Mmm, Sloane. I like where this is heading. But if you want me to answer your question in a coherent manner, you best stop what you’re doing. I didn’t come all the way out to California just to get you in bed.”
Her hand planted firmly across the material in front of his pants, the scoffing sound she made timed perfectly with the tight squeeze she gave his erection.
“Fine. But technically we aren’t in bed, we’re in my car. And I want to touch you. Right. Now.”
Dylan groaned as he looked down at her slim fingers, gently massaging him. God, how easily he capitulated to this woman. He was under her
spell with no antidote to save him.
How stupid could a man have to be to put an end to this type of erotic torture? A beautiful woman willing to stroke him in a moving vehicle? That was a wet dream waiting to happen. Giving in to her demands to get in his pants was a no-brainer.
Dylan slid his seat back and unzipped, bringing his slacks and boxers down past his hips in one swift motion to allow her access. Sloane wasted no time, wrapping her fingers tightly around his shaft and stroking him from base to tip. A deep, low moan left his chest. Damn, it had been weeks since he’d felt this good.
Sure, he’d jerked himself off in the shower daily since she’d left him, as he recalled how wet she was for him every time they were together. How much her sexy little breaths turned him on when she gasped right before she came. Or how the sweet moans she made when he pushed inside her made him even harder.
But none of those memories held a candle to the real thing. To the sight of her hand sliding up and down his hard cock, twisting and roping it as she went, her finger circling the tip, smoothing the pre-cum across the top of his head and using it as lubrication. Dylan bent his head and watched through hooded eyes.
Two could play at this game. Dylan reached an outstretched arm over the console, and slid his hand under the hem of her dress. He grinned through gritted teeth as he felt her satiny-smooth skin break out in shivers as he inched the dress up to her panties. Dipping his fingers, he touched the cotton panel of her panties. They were soaked through.
“Your body needs me so bad right now, doesn’t it? Needs me to fill you. To make you mine again.” He roughly shoved two fingers deep inside her as she screamed his name. God, he loved the sound of that.
Dylan had been so enthralled with her reaction, and her continued ministrations, he hadn’t realized they’d ended up in her driveway, pulled up next to a small house, in what looked to be a quiet little cul-de-sac. Without thought of time or place, he undid his seatbelt, at the exact moment she undid hers, and he reached over to lift her up so she straddled his lap. Ripping her panties down to her ankles, he shoved her skirt up to her midriff, yanked the car seat back as far as it could go, and slammed into her.
