Summer Nights

by Sanders, Jill

  “What did you tell her?” Zoey asked.

  “I told her that you were the major shareholder keeping this place open.” Elle chuckled.

  “You didn’t!” she said slightly louder, earning her a poke in the ribs from Hannah.

  “I did,” Elle said. She added after a moment, “I thought it would keep her off your back for a while. Our records are public domain, after all.”

  “Why don’t we just fire her?” Hannah whispered.

  “Because, unless you can find someone else to fill her place, we’re stuck. Besides, Brent and Isaac are pleased with her work. We want to keep them happy most of all. We can’t afford to lose either of them over this.”

  “Agreed.” Hannah nodded.

  “Besides, I’m curious what she’ll do next. I mean, it’s almost like watching a spider weave its web,” Zoey joked.

  “I doubt she’s smart enough to have a plan,” Hannah said under her breath, gaining everyone’s attention. “What? I’ve run into her. She doesn’t come across as the evil-genius type.”

  Zoey scanned the crowd and noticed that the three brothers were missing. Then she remembered that they were on security duty. “I’m going to go get some air, then head up and finish my search. I’ll fill you all in when you get done.”

  “Okay.” Elle squeezed her arm.

  “Good job.” Zoey hugged Hannah. “She’s amazing, and everyone is loving the show.” Everyone in the dining hall was glued to the performance.

  Stepping out into the cooler night air, she took a few breaths.

  “Nice night.” The deep voice had her wincing and wishing she’d checked around before stepping outside.

  “Yes.” She turned to Dean. The man moved from the shadows, tossing down a cigarette butt onto the ground. She wanted to berate him about the butt as he joined her but held back.

  “So, how about a walk?” he asked.

  She had been planning on taking a short stroll by herself to think through everything she’d found out, but now she wanted to head back up to her rooms to continue the internet search and pack for her day tomorrow.

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” She started to move on but stopped. “You’re missing the show.”

  “I’m on my break.” He looked down at his watch. “We’re serving champagne and cake after.”

  “Of course you are.” She sighed. “Hannah thinks of everything.”

  “You’ve been busy around here.”

  “Yes, all of us have.” He was good looking, but the man who filled her mind was on a date with Ryan at the moment. As she thought more about it, she realized they were perfect for one another: they both surrounded themselves in lies and deceit. Feeling defeated, she allowed Dean to move closer to her.

  “I like your hair up.” He brushed a fingertip down her cheek.

  “Thanks.” She suddenly realized how tall he was—taller than Dylan by about an inch. Dylan’s shoulders were broader and more muscular, or at least she thought so from what she’d seen of Dean.

  “I really want to kiss you,” Dean said, his hand moving smoothly around to cup the back of her head, nudging her a step forward as he leaned closer.

  She didn’t know what to do or say. It was more instinct that had her hands going to his chest and stopping him. The smell of cigarettes floating in the air still.

  “Thanks, but . . . I’m seeing someone,” she started, not knowing if it was true or not. After all, Dylan hadn’t given her any commitments or promises. Not to mention he’d lied to her about who he was. Still, she was thankful when Dean moved back a step.

  “Too bad.” He sighed. “Why am I always too late?” He shook his head. “No harm?”

  “No.” She smiled at him, and he grinned back.

  “Whoever he is, he’s a lucky man,” he said before he turned toward the back door and disappeared through it.

  She was temporarily blinded by the bright lights as he opened the door but relaxed as the darkness once again enclosed her.

  “Yes, I am.” A voice caused her to jump and turn around.

  With those words, Dylan emerged from the darkness. Her mind instantly compared the two men. Where Dean had been smooth, Dylan was almost predatory.

  “How . . .” she started to say, but he didn’t stop until she was in his arms and his lips had covered hers.

  She relaxed into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of him next to her again. It was hard to explain, but he felt like home. She ran her hands over those shoulders she’d dreamed about all week.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said against her skin. “I know I just saw you earlier today, but it’s been almost a full week since I’ve gotten to kiss you like this.” His hands tugged her hair loose.

  “How long were you standing there?” she asked, a little breathless.

  “Long enough to see you shoot him down.” He chuckled. “Thank god. I’d hate to have to bust the guy’s nose.”

  She pulled back with a frown. “Why would you bust his nose?”

  Dylan smiled quickly. “For hitting on my woman.”

  His woman? Did she want to be his woman? Her first emotion was anger at being likened to his possession, but then she saw the humor in his eyes and relaxed slightly. She knew the pain of being with a man who lied. Her mother had suffered through years filled with lies. Did she want that for herself? No. Lies had brought her nothing but pain in the past and would continue to do so if she allowed them to.

  She shoved him slightly and took a few steps away from the building, heading down the main path toward the front. She could have gone through the hallways but needed the fresh air instead. Dylan easily fell in step with her and rested his arm over her shoulders.

  “So, I hear you have the next two days off?” he asked.

  “I do,” she said, looking up at him. “I’m not your woman,” she added for good measure.

  He smiled down at her. “I’ll be your man.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  She stopped in the middle of the pathway and turned toward him. “What makes you think I want you?” Her eyes ran over him as his name, his real one, circled in her mind. Dylan Costa. Somehow it sounded better than Dylan Rhodes.

  “You just blew off tall, dark, and broody for me,” he answered.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe I was talking about someone else?”

  He surprised her by stepping closer and kissing her again. “God, I’ve missed the feel and taste of you,” he said into her hair.

  She sank into his embrace for a moment, enjoying it—momentarily forgetting about his lies and the pain they had caused her and just taking in the feel of him holding her.

  “I work tomorrow, but I have Monday off.” He leaned back to look down at her. “Play hooky and spend the day with me?”

  She thought about her plans to veg all weekend, alone. What if she found out more about the brothers? What would that mean to her? Maybe if they spent the day together, she’d have an opportunity to catch him in a lie or maybe even get a confession out of him.

  “What do you have planned?” she asked, tilting her head.

  He smiled. “I’ll think of something.” He took her hand and started walking again.

  Since most of the guests were inside the dining hall enjoying the show, the pathways were empty, and Zoey didn’t care if they walked hand in hand. After all, if she was going to play the game, she needed to convince him that she trusted him.

  “Your mother came back for more zip-lining.”

  “I know.” She groaned. “I’m afraid you’ve turned her into an adrenaline junkie.”

  He chuckled. “She’s still on the beginner course for now. But something tells me that she’ll be on the advanced course before too long.”

  They entered the front entrance to the building together.

  “Zoey.” Julie rushed after her as they started heading up the stairs. The shorter woman was a little winded. “Sorry,” she said, glancing between Dylan and Zoey. “Your father’s on the phone.”

 
Zoey tensed and dropped Dylan’s hand. “Have him leave a message.”

  “He won’t,” she said. “He’s been on hold for almost ten minutes. He says it’s urgent.” She moved closer. “It sounds bad—he keeps trailing off.”

  Zoey sighed and glanced at Dylan. “I’ll take it in my office.” She started for the stairs. She’d been avoiding his calls. It had been almost five years since she’d last seen the man. To be honest, she didn’t know why all of a sudden he was calling her so much. She’d believed that he’d forgotten all about her and Scar, that they were better off because of his silence.

  “I’ll see you Monday,” Dylan called out.

  She waved and continued down the hallway.

  She answered the flashing line on the phone. “Hello?”

  “Zoey?” Her father’s voice sounded faint.

  “Yes.” She pushed the phone up to her ear so she could hear better.

  “I was hoping to do this in person.” And the line went so quiet that she wondered if he’d hung up. “I’m so sorry about leaving you and Scarlett the way I did.” She waited, knowing that a simple apology wouldn’t cover the pain and hurt that he’d caused. “I had hoped to have more time, but it just wasn’t in the cards for me. Bridgette left me.”

  She smothered a laugh. “I’m surprised it lasted this long.”

  Her father’s sigh assured her that her words had landed on the mark.

  “I’ve changed things around. I only wish that I could help out more, but she took most of it. There isn’t a lot left over. You and Scarlett have taken such good care of your mother. I’m so proud of what you two have done. I want you to know that.”

  Suddenly her mind snapped to what this phone call meant. “Dad?” She held the phone closer. “What’s wrong?”

  “Tell your sister I love her and I’m so proud of her, and . . .” There was a long pause. “Tell your mother that I never really stopped loving her.”

  “Dad?” Her voice rose slightly. “Where are you?”

  “I’m going to hand the phone over; they’ll explain everything.” His voice had grown even softer. “I love you.”

  Zoey waited as the phone changed hands. A woman’s voice came on the line. “Ms. Rowlett?”

  “Yes?” She hadn’t realized tears were sliding down her cheeks.

  “I’m Elicia Rodriguez, your father’s nurse here at Saint Mary’s Hospice Care. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but he’s been trying to get ahold of you for a few weeks now.” Zoey thought of all the unanswered messages she’d gotten from him. “Your father was diagnosed with stage-four cancer a little over a month ago. We expect him to pass in the next few hours.”

  The phone slipped from her fingers and landed on the desk as Zoey’s knees went numb, and she crashed down hard in the chair.

  CHAPTER NINE

  When Dylan walked into his room after leaving Zoey, he found the space empty. His brothers were still at the event or were making the rounds somewhere, no doubt still looking for their father or any clues.

  The problem was, now he was full of energy and didn’t want to be stuck in the small room. He couldn’t help it; being that close to Zoey had sent him into overdrive. He paced for about a minute before finally giving up and heading out into the night. He had too much sexual frustration pent up—the only way to expel it was by being with Zoey, or by taking a long hike. He didn’t know where he would end up, only that he couldn’t stand being cooped up.

  Luckily, he was heading down the stairs at the same time Zoey was heading up.

  “Hey.” His timing was perfect. Then she glanced up, and he could see that something was wrong. He was beside her quickly, her shoulders gripped in his hands, as if he could draw her pain away with sheer force. “What is it?”

  “It’s . . . my father,” she said softly. “He’s . . . terminal. They said he’d been holding on, waiting to talk to me. The nurse seemed to think it would be soon. Within the hour. I think he might be gone.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said as she buried her face into his shoulders.

  “No.” She shook her head. “He left us, years ago. He made his choice.” She gripped his shoulders as he held on to her. “Why should it matter to me?”

  “Because he’s your father,” he said, glancing up as a group of employees came into the main lobby.

  Taking her hand, he guided her up the stairs, toward the private staircase that would lead them to the staff rooms.

  He was thankful that she didn’t argue with him about going into her space. Instead she unlocked the door with her code, and he followed her inside.

  They stepped into a full apartment; the space was bigger than he’d imagined. A small living room with a gourmet kitchen sat off toward the side. A long hallway led off to what he assumed were their shared bedrooms and bathrooms.

  Zoey walked over to the sofa and sat down, her eyes going to the large dark windows. He moved over and sat next to her, taking her hands in his.

  “Where is he?” he asked.

  “A hospice in Vegas,” she answered. “His second wife left him shortly after he was diagnosed with stage-four cancer.”

  The lost look in her eyes almost undid him. He’d been missing his father for a few months now, worried about the man who had acted more like a brother than a father. Now, looking at the sadness in her eyes, he felt guilty for even being concerned for the man-child his father was. His father was no doubt holed up in some five-star hotel, sipping drinks by the pool and flirting with women half his age, while hers had suffered, and probably died, alone.

  “Have you told Scarlett or your mother yet?” he asked. Her eyes slid closed, and he allowed her a moment to breathe.

  “God, I . . .” Her eyes opened, and he watched them fill with tears.

  “Hey.” He pulled her closer and held on to her, smoothing her hair with a hand. He’d do anything at this point to comfort her.

  “This is stupid. I hate the man,” she said again into his chest. “He left us.”

  Just then, the door to the apartment opened, and Elle, Hannah, Aubrey, and Scarlett walked in, all laughing and smiling. Until they saw him sitting there holding Zoey.

  “Oh!” Elle’s smile grew. “Sorry.” She started to back out, pulling her friends with her, and then Zoey straightened and glanced over toward the door, tears shining on her cheeks.

  “Zoey?” Scarlett rushed forward. “What’s wrong?” Her sister glared down at him as Zoey stood and hugged her.

  “Scar, it’s . . .” Zoey took a deep breath. “Dad.”

  The entire room went silent.

  “He’s dead?” Scarlett asked, searching her sister’s face.

  “I . . . don’t know. He was in the hospice and . . .”

  “Good.” Scarlett raised her chin. “His new wife can deal—”

  “She left him,” Zoey murmured.

  Scarlett was silent for a moment. “Still good—he deserved to die alone, after what he did to us.” Despite the heat in her words, Dylan could see her eyes fill; she quickly dashed the moisture away.

  “You don’t mean that.” Zoey took her by the shoulders and drew her into another hug.

  He watched the sisters. Zoey’s anger for her father was overshadowed by the loss of him, while Scarlett’s contempt for the man who’d left them was right out front.

  Dylan had never seen the two of them together before. Scarlett had almost two full inches on Zoey. Their hair was the same rich dark color, filled with lighter streaks from their time in the sun.

  “I do.” Scarlett nudged herself free from her sister’s hold. “He lied to us for years. Having an affair with Bridgette. What he did to Mom was—”

  “Unforgivable,” Zoey finished. “But the fact remains, he was our father, and a pretty good one at it for most of our childhood.”

  “For you, maybe. My first memories of him were dropping us off at day care, probably so he could go meet Bridgette.”

  Zoey sighed. “I’m going to Las Vegas.”

 
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not.”

  Zoey nodded. “It’s your choice.” She rubbed her sister’s back.

  Scarlett softened. “Have you told Mom yet?”

  “No. I’m going to go over there now.” She glanced toward the door.

  Dylan leaped in. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “When are you leaving?” Scarlett asked.

  “I’ll try to book a flight for tomorrow.” She rubbed her forehead and glanced toward Elle. “Do you think you guys can deal—”

  “Go.” Elle rushed to hug her. “Take as much time as you need. We’ve got this.”

  The other women joined the embrace as Scarlett remained off to the side.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Elle asked her.

  Dylan watched Scarlett raise her chin. “The man could never be bothered to show up to one of our school events. Not once.” She dashed a tear from her face. “He left us and our mother penniless. If it hadn’t been for our inheritance from our grandmother, we wouldn’t be here in this camp.”

  “If you change your mind—” Zoey started.

  “Mom won’t go either,” Scarlett said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “I know,” Zoey replied, then turned to him. “Ready?”

  “Yes.” They left the building in complete silence. He’d lost his mother long before he really could understand death. Sure, he grieved for the mother he didn’t remember, but it was a selfish emotion, since he had no memories of the woman.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as they climbed into a golf cart, with him at the wheel.

  “Yes,” she said after a moment. “You mentioned something about losing your mother?”

  “When I was two.” He wrapped his free arm around her.

  “I don’t even know what comes next.” She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder as he drove the dark path slowly. “Like, how to set up the funeral and everything else that comes with it.”

  “What about your mother? Won’t she want some say in that? After all, she was married to the man.”

  “No.” Zoey shook her head. “Mom won’t want anything to do with it. Not after . . . no,” she added again and looked away.

  “Then we’ll deal with it,” he said, causing her to glance up at him. “Together,” he assured her. “I did some thinking, and, well, if my boss says it’s okay for me to take a few days off”—he smiled down at her—“I can get my hands on a private plane. I have my license. All three of us do—our dad taught us to fly early on. Anyway, instead of booking a flight, I could take you to Vegas?”