by Brenda Novak
“One of the things I’ve been thinking about is someday opening my own European café.”
“And for that you’d need to go to some sort of culinary school?”
“One that does baking and pastry.”
“They have that in Portland?”
“They do. I looked it up online yesterday.”
“I’m sure they have one in L.A., too.” He kissed her neck, the corner of her mouth and, pressed against his body and his erection, Dakota felt the stirring of sexual desire. The fact that he’d be leaving in two weeks created a sense of urgency that made her desperate to take advantage of every hour they had left.
“Probably,” she conceded.
“But that isn’t good enough for you?”
“Nope.” She couldn’t go to L.A., not if she hoped to start her own life. She’d wind up being Braden’s nanny, since that was what she really wanted, anyway, and then she’d stay for Braden’s sake even after Tyson’s eye began to wander and he started to bring other women to the house. But she wouldn’t allow herself to suffer the kind of heartbreak that would cause, wouldn’t allow their relationship to come to that.
I’m going out with some respect and dignity, remember? It was the one thing she’d promised herself the night she’d given him her virginity.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Because…”
“I want to make love.” She pulled off the T-shirt she was wearing, which succeeded in distracting him.
Turning her toward the moonlight, he smiled as he ran his fingers over her ever so lightly, creating gooseflesh in his wake. “But we have a small problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Your body is saying yes.” He continued his tantalizing exploration. “But…”
“What?”
He stopped toying with her and lifted her chin so she had to look him in the eye. “You’re acting a little remote. Are you sure you’re okay, that you’re ready for this after…everything you’ve been through?”
She guided his hand back to her. “I’m ready. Just do it hard and fast, so I can’t feel anything else.”
“Dakota…” His voice held concern, even hesitancy, but a wild hunger had taken hold of her, making her more brazen than she’d ever been. Sliding her hand inside his briefs, she made sure he couldn’t remember that he was having reservations, let alone what those reservations might be.
“Now or never,” she whispered.
And he gave her exactly what she wanted without further argument.
* * *
IT WAS MORNING, but Dakota finally seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Getting out of bed so he wouldn’t disturb her, Tyson pulled on a pair of basketball shorts and went to get Braden, who was jabbering in the next room.
“Hey, buddy, what are you doing up so early?” he asked.
Braden answered with a big smile that showed his only tooth, and Tyson began to wonder how it was that his son got cuter every day. “Come on, I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.”
Plopping onto his behind, Braden lifted his arms, and Tyson grabbed hold of him and swung him up in the air, chuckling when he squealed in delight. “You like that, eh?” he said, tossing him up again.
Braden’s wide-eyed, “I’m too excited to breathe” expression made Tyson laugh and, when he caught his son, he impulsively kissed his round cheek. Braden smelled good. And his skin was so incredibly soft.
Something constricted in Tyson’s chest. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his lips against his son’s cheek again. Now that he’d had a taste of kissing a baby, his baby, he knew there was nothing that could compare to it. “You’re addictive,” he murmured, holding his son close.
Braden responded by placing a very wet kiss on Tyson’s chin, but somehow Tyson didn’t find it distasteful. It fact, it made the funny feeling in his chest grow stronger.
“Who would’ve thought I’d ever be so happy to see you?” he said with a grin, and suddenly he didn’t feel so angry at Rachelle. She’d changed his life, all right. But now it felt like she’d changed it for the better.
The doorbell sounded reminding Tyson that he’d set up an early appointment with his trainer. Carrying Braden with him, he dashed downstairs, taking them two at a time so he could reach the door before Lance could wake Dakota. He swung open the door just as Lance was raising his hand to knock.
The trainer’s eyebrows shot up, and Tyson imagined himself as Lance was seeing him—standing there without a shirt or shoes, his hair sticking up all over, and holding a baby. “I thought we were hitting it hard this morning,” Lance said.
“We are. It won’t take me long to feed this guy.”
“Isn’t Dakota here to take care of him?”
“She is, but…I’m sure you heard about her father. She needs a little time to get back on her feet.”
Obviously irritated, Lance glanced back at his car, then at the mat at his feet before finally summoning what he wanted to say. “I can appreciate that, Tyson. I really like Dakota, wish her the best. But I have a full day at the vet clinic. I can’t come out here in the mornings if you’re not going to be ready. You’ve been off a week already. Aren’t you interested in playing this season?”
The warmth and tenderness Tyson had felt only a few moments earlier disappeared, leaving cold fear in his gut. “Of course I’m interested in playing. That’s who I am, what I do.”
“It takes a lot of focus and drive to get beyond this kind of injury. I’ve been as understanding as possible, but now that your problems with Rachelle are behind you, you need to hit it hard. That knee’s not ready for the abuse it has to take. If you don’t get serious, your football days could be over.”
Tyson wanted to argue with Lance, wanted to tell him that he was taking his career seriously. But he’d let himself be distracted by a sexy woman and a cute baby. When had being with Dakota and Braden become more important than playing football? What was wrong with him? Neutralizing the threat of Rachelle’s accusations and retaining his endorsements had lulled him into believing everything was fine. But if he wasn’t careful, he could still lose his career, and once it was gone, it would most likely be gone for good. Second chances didn’t come often in the NFL.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“So are we going running?” Lance asked.
Tyson heard Dakota’s step on the stairs and glanced over at her. Her hair was as mussed as his was, but she’d taken the time to dress a little better. She had on a pair of knee-length cutoffs and a simple tank. With her golden skin and oh-so-kissable mouth, she looked great. Better than great. The sight of her brought images of last night, which had been memorable indeed. But he had to put his relationship with her, and everything else that had happened this summer, behind him. It was time to get back to work.
“We’re going running,” he said and stifled the impulse to kiss her good morning as she came to get Braden.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Grandpa Garnier: If you’re gonna go, go like hell.
If your mind’s not made up, don’t use your spurs.
DAKOTA WASN’T SURE what had changed, but she sensed a difference in Tyson ever since that day he’d gone running with Lance. He rarely touched her or Braden, didn’t come to her bed at night or lead her to his, rarely even talked to her if he could help it and spent all his time working out, studying football clips or taking care of business in the office. She wasn’t sure what kind of business he had, since he hadn’t seemed too involved in it before and it was the off-season, but she suspected it had to do with investments of some sort, which he’d apparently decided to manage himself.
He was polite when they happened to bump into each other, but he didn’t make any sexual advances. And he started spending a lot of time away—at Gabe’s house in town, she realized when she overheard him talking with Lance a few days later. He and Gabe had been training together, trying to get Tyson’s knee back in shape.
Dakota couldn’t understand what had caused such an abrupt reversal in their relationship, especially when she was beginning to feel so close to him, but it was as if all the tenderness and concern he’d shown her and his son had simply disappeared. He was the man he’d been when they first met: angry, although she didn’t understand the reason now that Rachelle was no longer a problem, determined and withdrawn.
Finally Dakota called her best friend, Rita Long. She spoke to Rita barely two or three times a year since Rita had married and moved to Seattle, but Dakota didn’t know where else to turn. She needed to talk to someone. She felt so isolated, so alone. She’d been expecting to lose Tyson when he went to California, not before.
“Tell me this is a good call,” Rita said as soon as she heard Dakota’s voice.
“A good call?” Dakota echoed in confusion.
“I rarely hear from you anymore, so I’m guessing you’ve got big news. Are you getting married?”
Dakota managed a laugh. “That’s the only thing you’d consider a good call?”
“No, but you’ve needed a decent, loving man for years. After everything you’ve done for your father, you deserve to find one.”
Dakota remembered Tyson brushing past her so impersonally this morning and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Sorry, no wedding.”
There was a long pause. “Is everything okay, Kody?”
Squeezing her eyes closed at the sound of her old nickname, Dakota thought of her father and all that had—and hadn’t—transpired since she and Rita were in high school together. “My father passed away two weeks ago, Rita.”
“Oh no…I’m so sorry. I know—” her voice broke “—I know you really loved him. I liked the old guy, too.”
Rita didn’t know about the violence of the past few years. That was part of the reason Dakota had drifted away from her best friend. She’d been too busy trying to deal with her own problems, knew there was nothing Rita could do but feel sorry for her. Now it was suddenly like old times, as if nothing had changed at all, which somehow prompted her to tell Rita the truth—that Skelton’s death was a suicide, which she hadn’t told anyone else, including Tyson.
“Your poor dad,” Rita said. “Who can blame him? He was in so much pain. But I have lots of good memories of him. Remember when he dressed up like a chauffeur and drove us on our prom date?”
Dakota smiled at the memory, glad her friend had missed the worst of Skelton’s downfall. “I do.”
Rita sniffed. “So what are you going to do now?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Have you met anyone? Is there any reason to stay in Dundee?”
Dakota shoved an image of Tyson out of her mind. He wouldn’t be in Dundee much longer. “No. I want to leave. I just don’t know where to go.”
“Why don’t you come here?” Rita asked, her voice filled with enthusiasm. “I have a big home with plenty of room. And there are a lot of young, single guys who sell alarm systems for my husband. We could introduce you to some of them. When you’re ready,” she added.
“I don’t want to lean on you,” Dakota said. “I—I need to establish my own life.”
“An extended visit won’t get in the way of that,” Rita argued. “Coming to Seattle will simply give you time to heal, to plan your future.”
Dakota remembered the excitement she’d felt at the possibility of seeing California and knew Washington was probably just as nice. Maybe she’d even settle there, find a job, get a cheap apartment and eventually start culinary school.
“Do you think there are good job opportunities up there?”
“You could always work for Tim, if you want. His business is growing so fast, he needs a dependable office manager. The woman he has now is mostly retired and puts in twenty hours a week, max. And the pay’s not bad.”
She’d be with Rita again, too, get to know Rita’s husband, Tim, and her little girl, Meggie.
“Do they have any culinary schools in Seattle?” she asked.
“We can check, but I’m betting there are.”
“So you’re serious.”
“I’ll even send you a plane ticket.”
“No.” Dakota thought of the purchase offer that had come in on her trailer that morning. Surprisingly, it was a good one—full asking price, all cash, with a quick close. It wouldn’t make her rich, but it would pay off her loans, give her enough to get to Seattle and carry her until she could get a job. School would have to wait, but she’d have that to look forward to, to dream about. “I’ll come as soon as the sale of my father’s mobile home is final.”
“When will that be?”
“In a few days.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“Thanks, Rita.” Dakota smiled as she hung up. Life wasn’t all bad. She still had her best friend.
* * *
DAKOTA WAS SO NERVOUS she hovered at the top of the stairs for fifteen minutes before finding the resolve to go down. These days, Tyson usually came home after she was in bed. That was also true tonight, but she’d been listening for him. She’d heard his car pull up outside, heard the door close quietly downstairs. And now it was time to confront him. The escrow on the sale of her trailer had closed; she had the money she needed.
He must’ve heard her on the stairs. He looked up from where he sat at the table, but then he jerked his gaze away, focusing on the slice of cake he’d just cut. He’d mostly quit eating the food she made—he wasn’t home long enough to enjoy a meal—but she’d baked his favorite carrot cake, hoping he’d pause in the kitchen long enough to sit down with dessert so she could have a chance to bring up the subject that had been on her mind ever since she’d spoken to Rita four days ago.
“Do you have a second?” she asked politely.
He kept his attention on his cake. “Sure,” he said, then shoveled a big bite into his mouth.
She tried not to remember the times his eyes had warmed when they landed on her, the crooked smile that made her breathless with anticipation, the way his lips tasted when he kissed her. It didn’t matter now. That was over. Tyson was supposed to go to California next week, and because Dakota couldn’t take living under their current conditions any longer, she wanted to leave before that.
“I have—” her heart was pounding so hard, she had to pause for breath enough to speak “—a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?”
She wasn’t sure what to make of his voice. Was that wariness she heard?
She licked dry lips, willing herself to continue. She had so much hope riding on the next fifteen minutes. “Y-you’ve been pretty busy lately.”
He shoveled another bite into his mouth. “Football’s coming up.”
“Right. I can only imagine that the season will be even busier.”
A nod acknowledged her words, but he still seemed reluctant to give her much attention.
“Uh, when Rachelle had Braden, you were content to pay her child support and let her take care of him.”
At this, he lowered his fork and met her gaze. “He’s not going back to her. Ever.”
“I realize that, and I wholeheartedly support it.” She swallowed hard. “He needs someone who will be absolutely diligent in caring for him.”
One eyebrow went up. “Someone?”
“I’m just saying your lifestyle isn’t really conducive to caring for a baby.”
“I get that part.”
“So…I was thinking.” Now it was her turn to glance away. She moved over to the counter, covered the cake he’d uncovered and finally blurted out what she had to say because she was afraid she’d never get to it if she didn’t. “I would like to raise him.”
He stared at her, but didn’t say a word as she rushed to explain.
“You know I’d take excellent care of him—I’d die before I let anyone hurt him—and I’d do what you initially expected from Rachelle, only I’d go one better. I wouldn’t expect a dime. Not a single dime. I’ve found a better job, so I’ll
be able to get by. Besides that, I’d sign whatever you wanted, make sure he had everything a child needs, no matter what, and we’d never contact you. I swear. I have a little money coming in from the trailer, and we’d use it to move away. No one would be the wiser. I wouldn’t mention your name to a soul, especially the press. And you could go on with your life as if this summer never happened, as if Rachelle and Braden and me…as if we never existed. Doesn’t that sound good?”
He looked like she’d slapped him. Obviously she’d said something wrong. She scrambled, trying to figure out what that might have been so she could make it right and possibly hang on to the child she loved.
“Think about it,” she pleaded, kneeling down in front of him. “Football, football and more football. Fame. Fortune. Parties. Women. Lots of women…” Her words dwindled off because the mental image of those women was like a knife in the heart. But she’d already lost him. She didn’t want to lose Braden, too.
Tyson reached over and touched her face, his eyes deeply troubled, but she couldn’t risk giving him the chance to refuse her. Steeling herself against the pain, she pressed on. “What do you say? I mean, let’s be honest. You don’t want him. You never have. But I do.” She tapped her chest to prove her sincerity. “I’d give anything for him. Granted, I don’t have a lot right now, but I can offer you a release from the responsibility of being a father, freedom, the certainty that he will be well cared for. Those are what you want, right, Ty? I—”
“Stop it.” He stood up so fast that the chair nearly went flying.
Dakota blinked rapidly, trying to stem the tears welling in her eyes. “What, then? What do you want?”
“I—I may not be the best father, but I won’t give him up.”
“You haven’t even looked at him for eight days!”
“It’s you I haven’t been able to look at!” he said and stormed out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Grandpa Garnier: Love is like a bucking bronco. It takes
more guts and determination than most men have to hang
