A Dream Too Far (Summer Lake Silver Book 2)

by SJ McCoy

  He was taking her over to the Lodge at Four Mile Creek for dinner. They’d eaten at the Boathouse and at Giuseppe’s enough times that neither of them seemed special enough for tonight. He’d taken a ride over to the other side of the lake yesterday while she was working at the women’s center. The restaurant there was more upscale. He hoped she liked it.

  He turned at the sound of a tap on the door and went to see who it was.

  Ivan stood outside, smiling at him.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to check with you—you really don’t want me to drive?”

  Seymour smiled and shook his head. Ivan had been with him for a good few years now. He was a good man, a good employee—and after only a few days around Chris, he’d become a good friend.

  “Come on in while I finish getting ready.”

  Ivan only hesitated slightly before he followed him inside. Before this visit to the lake, Seymour would never have asked him. He didn’t even understand why. That was just the way things had always been. Now—thanks to Chris—they were different, and he liked it.

  “Do you want a drink?”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Part of me wants to ask you to drive. Part of me wants to not share the drive home with you.”

  Ivan smiled. “I can see that. Part of me wants to tell you to let me so that you can have a drink. I can wear my earphones on the way back and listen to my music.”

  Seymour laughed. “I know you’re not an eavesdropper, but it’s not the same, you know?”

  “I can’t say I know. But I can imagine. I can’t imagine … but then lots of people take a taxi home after a date.”

  “True. But it’s not the same as being alone, just the two of us.”

  “I understand. I just wanted to offer my services one more time. I hope it’s not out of line for me to say so, but I’m rooting for you.”

  Seymour grasped his shoulder. “Thanks, Ivan. What about you, though? You can take the night off. Have another night at the Boathouse. I’m guessing you made some friends here yourself?”

  Ivan shrugged. “I’ll probably take a walk up there if you don’t need me.”

  “You should. I’m guessing you don’t date much yourself, given how much you work.”

  “I don’t need to. Mind if I ask you something?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I heard there was a rumor that you might be buying a place here. Is there any truth to that?”

  “Maybe. How would you feel about that? It’d just be adding one more house to the rotation.”

  Ivan smiled. “But I get the idea that if you do, we’d be spending a lot more time here than anywhere else.”

  “Perhaps. Why do you ask? Do you have an interest in spending more time here? Has someone caught your eye?”

  “Maybe.”

  Seymour laughed. “I guess we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it once we’re back to the usual routine.”

  “I guess we will.” Ivan checked his watch. “Sorry, but it’s such a habit for me. You have seven minutes if you want to get out of here at your usual ten ahead of schedule.”

  Seymour chuckled. “Thanks.”

  “And final offer—do you want me to drive?”

  Seymour shook his head. “Thanks, but no. I want the time alone with her more than I want a glass of bourbon.”

  He sat for a moment when he pulled up outside Chris’s house. It amazed him how quickly this had all become familiar to him. He was driving himself. Pulling up in this quiet little street. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. He was going to miss this. He was going to miss her. But no. He’d only have to miss her for a week, then she’d come to Malibu. And when she did, they’d make plans for whatever they wanted to happen next.

  Chapter Ten

  Seymour held Chris’s hand as they walked through the lobby of the hotel. They’d arranged to meet Marianne and Clay in the bar for drinks before dinner.

  “Hey, Mrs. Benson.”

  Chris smiled at the girl sitting behind the reception desk. “Hey, Roxy. How are you?”

  “I’m good, thanks. Are you here for dinner?”

  “We are, but we’re having drinks first.”

  “Oh, okay.” Roxy smiled at Seymour. “Nice to see you, Mr. Davenport.”

  Seymour smiled and nodded at her, and they carried on to the bar.

  Chris raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you been here before? How do you know Roxy?”

  He smiled through pursed lips. “Do you really want to know?”

  She laughed. “Yes.”

  “Ivan and I came for a ride over here yesterday. I wanted to check the place out before I brought you. I wanted tonight to be special.”

  “Aww.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  He looked around when they entered the bar. “They’re not here yet. Do you want to get a table, or would you rather sit at the bar?”

  “I should have warned you. We’ll have to wait at least twenty minutes before they arrive. It’s a sister thing. I’m always ten minutes early, Marianne is always ten minutes late.”

  He laughed. “Then I suggest we get a table—unless you’d rather sit at the bar?”

  “Yes, let’s do that. I have to tell you, though, I usually sit at the bar and watch the world go by.”

  “We can do that if you’d rather?”

  “No. I don’t need to people-watch to entertain myself when I have you for company.”

  She led him to a table over the by the windows, and he pulled a chair out for her.

  He looked thoughtful as he sat down.

  “Penny for them?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

  “Go on, tell me. Something has you puzzled.”

  He met her gaze for a moment. “I’m not sure I should tell you. I just had a reaction, and I’m trying to figure out how I feel about it. I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

  “About what?”

  “Okay. You said you usually sit at the bar for twenty minutes while you wait for your sister. My reaction …? I didn’t like that idea. I don’t like to think of all the guys seeing a beautiful woman and trying their luck.”

  She laughed. “It’s only me. Most of the guys around here are my sons’ friends. I know everyone. Everyone knows me.”

  “I guess, but this is a resort town. I’m sure there are visitors passing through who’d love to get to know the beautiful woman sitting alone at the bar.”

  She nodded reluctantly. She wouldn’t deny that it happened on occasion—or that she’d enjoyed some fun conversations that way. “I don’t think it’s anything out of the ordinary. I’d guess that scenario plays out in bars all over the world every night of the week.”

  “I’d have to agree with you.” He gave her a resigned smile. “I’m sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “For the fact that I don’t like the idea of guys hitting on you when I’m not here to fend them off.”

  He looked so serious, she had to smile. “I’m a big girl, Seymour. I can fend them off all by myself.”

  “I didn’t think for one second that you can’t. I’m being a little more selfish than that. I don’t want anyone hitting on my lady.” Her heart raced as he held her gaze. His eyes were a deep green. “Is that wrong of me?”

  “No. It’s rather sweet of you.”

  “But …?”

  She shook her head. “There’s no but. I’m surprised you feel that way about me.”

  “Surprised?”

  She nodded. “Your lady?”

  He reached across and took hold of her hand. “I’d like you to be. If you want to? I’m surprised at myself, I suppose. I didn’t think I’d feel this way this soon.” He dropped his gaze then looked into her eyes again. “Am I making this difficult? Would you rather change the subject, forget I said that, keep this light and …?”

  Chris drew in a deep breath
and let it out slowly before she spoke. “No. It’s scary, but I don’t want to back away from it. I like the idea of being your lady—even if we don’t know what that might look like. You don’t need to worry about me going off with other guys I meet sitting at the bar, though. That’s not my style.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply—”

  She squeezed his hand. “I know you didn’t. I’m trying to reassure you, not chastise you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So, if I were your lady, what would that look like?”

  He smiled. “I think the first step is for you to come visit me next weekend. Come and see me in my life—instead of just on vacation—so that you know what you’re letting yourself in for.”

  She laughed. “You make it sound like you might be a vampire who lives in an old creepy mansion.”

  He laughed with her. “I’m not quite that bad. But you should come. I want you to come and stay with me.”

  A wave of heat washed through her. “Stay with you?”

  His eyes twinkled as he nodded. “That’s what I’d like. But if that doesn’t feel right, it’s a big house—there’s lots of room.”

  “I think I’d like to stay with you.”

  He leaned across and surprised her by landing a kiss on her lips. “I’d like that, too. And if you feel like you can put up with me after that, then I’ve been thinking about looking for a place of my own here.”

  “Your own house?”

  He nodded.

  “So, you want me to stay with you, but you don’t want to stay with me?”

  “I wouldn’t invite myself.”

  She smiled. “Well, this is me inviting you. Unless my place isn’t grand enough for you.” She raised an eyebrow at him. She wasn’t stupid. She knew he had more money than she could even imagine. But that wasn’t the point. Money didn’t mean much to her. Yes, it could make life comfortable—but she was comfortable enough just the way she was. If that wasn’t enough for Seymour, then maybe they should figure that out now.

  He laughed. “I love your place. It feels good; it feels like you. And since I’m coming here to be around you, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  “Good answer.”

  He smiled, but she could tell that something was bothering him. “Go on, say it.”

  “It hasn’t come up between us yet, but it’ll have to at some point.”

  “What?”

  “The whole money thing. If I’m honest, when I’ve dated in the past, there’s always been a question in the back of my mind about whether they were only interested in my money.”

  Chris pursed her lips, but he held a hand up to stop her before she spoke.

  “With you, I’m more concerned that you might reject me because of it.”

  That made her laugh. “I wouldn’t reject you because of it. I admire that you’re able to do so well for yourself. But I have to be honest. I’m not interested in what’s in here.” She tapped on his wallet which he’d set down on the table. “Only what’s in here.” She tapped her finger on the side of his head. “I’m interested in you for who you are, not for what you have.”

  He smiled and caught her hand, placing it over his heart where he covered it with his own. “I want to win you over with what’s in here.” His eyes burned a deep, intense green as he looked into hers, making her tummy flip over as shivers chased each other down her spine.

  She nodded. “You already have.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Seymour felt as though his heart was buzzing in his chest. He hadn’t been sure that he was winning her over at all—not beyond enjoying a short time together and flirting around the edges of a possible physical relationship. To hear her say that he already had, made him happy.

  He came back down to earth when he saw Clay McAdam walk in. The woman by his side was unmistakably Chris’s sister. A little taller, a little leaner, but the resemblance between them was hard to miss. Clay caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. Seymour knew that he’d have questions. He also knew that he’d wait to get him alone before he asked them.

  “Here they are.” Chris waved at them.

  Seymour watched her hug her sister and Clay before he shook hands with them both. He’d met Marianne briefly that night in LA, but this felt like their first introduction. It was obvious that Clay was very much in love with her.

  Once they were seated and the server had taken their order, Clay grinned at him. “It’s good to see you. I’m glad you finally found your way up here.”

  Seymour smiled at Chris. “So am I. I can see why you like it so much here.”

  Clay laughed. “It’s a beautiful place—with beautiful women.”

  Chris made a face at him. “You wouldn’t know if every other woman in town were as ugly as sin. You’ve only had eyes for Marianne since the day you first came.”

  “You’re right.” He smiled at Marianne. “Can I tell them?”

  Chris cocked her head to one side—telling Seymour that she was genuinely puzzled about what they might have to say. At first, he’d thought it was a deliberate move to indicate that she had a question, but in the time that he’d known her, he’d come to realize that it was an unconscious movement she made when she was trying to understand.

  Marianne smiled at her. “I’ll bet Chris can guess.”

  “Guess what?”

  “That we finally set a date for the wedding.”

  Chris clapped her hands together happily. “That’s wonderful! When?”

  “The end of next month,” said Clay. He turned to Seymour. “I hope you’ll be able to come?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “We’re not exactly having a wedding party, but I imagine you wouldn’t mind escorting the sister of the bride?”

  He looked at Chris. “I’d love to—if she wants me.”

  She smiled at him. “I’d like that a lot.”

  “Good, that’s settled then,” said Marianne with a smile. “Now I know what I’m doing with the seating.”

  “Will you be back here in the meantime?” asked Clay.

  Seymour looked at Chris. “I’ll have to wait and see if I’m invited.”

  “You are. We just need to figure out when.”

  “And are you coming to the dinner?” Clay asked Chris.

  As her head cocked to one side again, Seymour’s heart sank. He hadn’t invited Chris to the fundraiser dinner he was hosting in a couple of weeks. Not because he didn’t want her there, only because of her insistence on playing things by ear.

  Clay caught on and shot him an apologetic look. Marianne either didn’t realize what was going on or was less forgiving. “Which dinner?”

  Seymour smiled at her and then at Chris. “The one Chris doesn’t know about yet, but that I’d like her to attend.”

  She didn’t seem put out. “If you’d like me to attend, then you’ll have to tell me when and where.”

  “It’s a couple of weeks away. It’s an annual fundraiser dinner that we host in LA.”

  She nodded. “What do you raise funds for?”

  He hadn’t told her about his charity work yet. He looked at Clay. He was the voice; Seymour preferred to work behind the scenes as much as possible and maximize the numbers.

  “Don’t tell me he hasn’t told you about any of it?” Clay asked Chris.

  “Nope.” She smiled at him. “We’ve covered a lot of ground in a short time, but I’m sure there’s lots we haven’t told each other about yet.”

  “He’s too modest. This guy,” he punched Seymour’s shoulder, “is the brains behind some of the biggest children’s charities in the country. You know I’ve worked with Oscar for the last few years? Well, it was his Uncle Seymour who set that up. And even aside from the kids, he’s probably raised more money for addiction recovery charities than any other person in the country.”

  Seymour didn’t know what reaction he expected from Chris. He didn’t like to make a big deal out of the charity work he did. It wasn’t about how people s
aw him; it was about the contribution he could make. What he didn’t expect was for Chris to look so … so … he couldn’t even put a word to the look on her face. Horrified was maybe too strong—maybe. Shocked was probably closer.

  Marianne covered the awkward silence that ensued. “That’s great. And here I was thinking that you were one of those men who was only interested in making the rich richer.”

  Her words might have sounded harsh, but she gave him an apologetic smile that told him she was just saying the first words that came into her head to give Chris a moment to pull herself together.

  “A lot of people see me that way. And I don’t make the effort to show them how they’re wrong. I don’t make money—for myself, my investors, or my charities—to impress anyone. I do it for how it feels to me.”

  He caught Chris’s eye. “Of course, some people’s opinions matter more than others.”

  She smiled. “I think it’s amazing. I really do. I just had no idea that you were involved in addiction recovery work.”

  He chuckled. “If you talk to my daughter, she’d tell you that my involvement runs a lot deeper than fundraising.”

  Her smile disappeared again at that. Damn. He seemed to be screwing up every time he opened his mouth tonight.

  Marianne got to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me a moment?”

  Chris got up and went with her to the ladies’ room.

  Seymour blew out a sigh and looked at Clay.

  “Hell, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw a grenade in the conversation. I thought I was asking an innocent question about the dinner. I assumed you two would have talked about the fundraising.”

  “Nope. It never came up.”

  “You know why she reacted the way she did, don’t you?”

  “No again.”

  “Damn! I’m sorry. Her husband. He was an alcoholic.”

  Seymour nodded. She’d told him only that her husband had died young. “That’s what killed him?”

  Clay nodded. “And from what I understand, made her and the boys’ lives hell before it did.”

  “Thanks for filling me in.”