One Hundred Wishes

by Kelly Collins

  He fished for a card from his pocket. “I can’t wait.”

  “Neither can I.” She wasn’t talking about the interview. She was talking about seeing Dalton again.

  She went back inside and picked up her phone to text a message.

  Dalton,

  I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but the biggest was letting you walk out that door. Please come home. I miss you. I miss the gray.

  With love,

  Samantha

  She set down the phone and raced to the bathroom so she was showered and ready when he came back. If he came back.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dalton zipped toward Silver Springs on his Harley. He would have gone to Copper Creek, but it was too close and held fresh memories of his time with Samantha. Besides, he couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t end up at Chachi’s, ready to wring Todd’s neck. That little asshole was responsible for this whole shit show. Without a doubt, he posted her picture and disclosed her location.

  The crisp mountain air whipped around him as he drove too fast through the pass. Carelessness outweighed caution. His phone vibrated inside his pocket. He ignored it while he weaved between cars, taking risks that could kill him. He realized how stupidly he’d behaved. His death wouldn’t solve anything except possibly the ache in his chest since he walked out of Samantha’s cabin. He wasn’t sure he could go back to his status quo when he’d been given a taste of heaven.

  Besides, it would break his mom’s heart if he died. He knew his friends well enough to know they’d bring him back to life so they could kill him again for his stupidity.

  The driver in front of him slammed on her brakes to avoid hitting a deer. He averted disaster by a hair when he swerved right and missed eating the back end of the midsize sedan by inches. Sadly, he caught his tire on the soft shoulder and down he went. The fall wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt like a bastard.

  The denim of his jeans tore as he slid across the asphalt. The loose gravel bit into his skin. His Harley, with the momentum of a freight train, sped ahead of him, hit the guardrail, and flipped over the edge. The sound of metal crashed and crumbled as his prized possession flew over the cliff and tumbled down the embankment.

  Dalton came to rest on his back near the metal rail. He took a mental and physical inventory. He could move both legs, both arms, and all his fingers. His head was still attached and safely inside his helmet until he unbuckled the strap and tossed it aside. Once he knew he’d survived, the pain kicked in. His entire left side was on fire from his ankle to his hip. Thankfully, he’d worn his leather jacket, or else the road rash would have claimed more real estate on his body.

  “Are you okay?” An older woman rushed to his aid. “You were tailing too close. I almost hit the deer. You almost hit me.”

  She rattled off facts he couldn’t deny. He’d been tailing her.

  “I’m fine. It’s a scratch.” He glanced down at his blood-soaked, shredded jeans and groaned.

  “That’s more than a scratch.”

  “I’ll be all right.” He pulled himself up to a sitting position and leaned against the cold metal barrier.

  She peeked over the edge where his bike had taken flight. Her eyes grew big, and her face blanched almost as white as her hair. “You’re in better shape than that death mobile. I’ll never understand the attraction to motorcycles. You don’t see people riding on the outside of planes, do you? It’s not safe.”

  He didn’t want to argue with her, but in early aviation lots of people flew without being encased in tons of metal. After a closer look, he was pretty certain she’d been alive when the Wright brothers took their first flight.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry I scared you. I’m all right.” A few snowflakes dropped from the sky. “Great. Just great.” He leaned back and thunked his head on the metal. Until that point, it was the only thing that didn’t ache.

  “You need a doctor.”

  “I’ve got one.” He knew if he showed up to Doc’s like this, the old man would skin what hadn’t been skinned already.

  “My name is Agatha Guild.” She pulled on his arm to help him stand. “I’ll give you a ride. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Dalton, and I’m okay. I’ll call for help.”

  “Oh fiddlesticks, you young ones can be so stubborn. I’m taking you home.” She yanked and pulled until he had no choice but to comply or have his arm ripped from the socket. For being an antique, she was quite strong, and Dalton feared he’d lose a limb if she kept tugging.

  He managed to stand. The pain of the fall sliced through him. Each step he took was worse than the last. Bits of dirt and gravel rubbed against the denim and dug deeper into his skin.

  “Really, I can call a friend.”

  “Dalton whoever you are … I don’t want any lip from you.” She led him to her car and opened the trunk. “I don’t want you bleeding everywhere.”

  Dalton’s head shook slowly back and forth. “Agatha, I’m not riding in your trunk.”

  “Of course not.” She leaned in and grabbed a blanket. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” She covered the upholstery of the front passenger seat. He climbed inside. “Where are we going?” She buckled in and adjusted her seat. She was a tiny thing, much like Samantha, only Ms. Guild could barely see over the steering wheel.

  “I live in Aspen Cove.”

  “You don’t say.” She pulled a U-turn and headed in the opposite direction she had been traveling. “Your doctor wouldn’t happen to be Doctor Parker, would it?”

  “You know him?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, all dreamy. “I know him. He was my square dancing partner last year.”

  “Doc square dances?”

  She smiled. “A man of many talents.”

  Maybe he imagined it, but Ms. Guild seemed to imply she’d been the recipient of his talents. Then again, Dalton’s body hurt so bad, he wasn’t thinking clearly. He imagined a lot of things, like the smell of chocolate chip cookies and the sound of Samantha’s voice telling him to come home.

  He remembered the vibration in his pocket prior to the crash and pulled out his phone. There was one text message. It was from Samantha.

  Dalton,

  I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but the biggest was letting you walk out that door. Please come home. I miss you. I miss the gray.

  With love,

  Samantha

  Her message gutted him. He wanted to race back to her, but he wasn’t racing anywhere. Agatha Guild drove thirty in a fifty, which was why he was riding her ass in the first place. At least that’s the lie he told himself. He knew if she were going eighty, he would have still been on her tail. All he wanted to do was gain distance from the situation and the pain, not from Samantha.

  He thought about what he could say to her when he saw her again. He wanted to make this better, but the facts were the facts: He was an ex-felon. She was a pop star. There would never be a place for him in her life as long as the public continued to try him. The hardest thing to do was to let her go. The kindest thing to do was to let her go. He had to let her go.

  Samantha,

  We had the beginning. We had the end. I wish we’d had more of the in-between. Take care of yourself. Be true to yourself.

  With love,

  Dalton

  He hovered over the send button. When he pressed it, his heart hollowed out. He leaned his forehead on the window and watched the pine trees pass until the glass fogged and everything seemed hazy. They crawled toward Aspen Cove. The closer they got, the heavier the snow fell and the slower Agatha drove. Outside of the need to ease the pain in his leg, it didn’t matter when they arrived. There was nothing to rush toward.

  “Almost there.” Agatha pulled in front of Doc’s clinic. “Stay here.”

  For an old woman, she moved faster on her feet than she did on the road. Not wanting Doc or Sage to rush a gurney out to him, he exited the car and hobbled into the building.

  The first person
he saw was Sage, who helped him to the examination room. He limped past Doc and Agatha, who were exchanging niceties. Agatha blushed when Doc Parker told her he’d call her.

  “What happened?” Sage rushed around the room, pulling out scissors and tweezers and a metal pan.

  “I’m not pissing in that.”

  She laughed. “Wouldn’t think of asking you to. It’s for saline. We have to clean out the wounds.”

  “Agatha said you were flirting with death.” Doc walked in and washed his hands. He made quick work of cutting off Dalton’s jeans. “Flirting with pretty little brunettes would be a better choice.”

  “Like you were flirting with Agatha?” Dalton tried to tease through his pain.

  He let out a curse when Doc peeled the denim from his wound. He looked down and saw what looked like ground beef.

  “You could be with Samantha if you weren’t sitting here.” Doc yanked another piece of denim loose.

  Anyone who said quick was painless was full of shit. Dalton sucked in a fortifying breath before he replied, “Obviously, you haven’t heard the news.”

  “Heard it. Can’t say I liked it. They got it all wrong.”

  Dalton hissed as Doc flushed the abraded skin with saline, then went to work with the tweezers. “Dammit Doc, do you have to dig to my spleen?”

  Doc turned to Sage. “Make the necessary calls.”

  Dalton tried to rise from the table. “Don’t call anyone.” He didn’t want anyone to make a big deal out of this. The faster he could become invisible, the better. He couldn’t be invisible if Sage sent out the 4-1-1 on his 9-1-1.

  Doc’s cuff to the side of his head was swift and uncomfortable. He still had great reflexes for an old fart. “You don’t get to make the rules inside my clinic.” He jabbed a little deeper and came out with a pebble that pinged when it hit the metal pan.

  He glanced at Sage and shook his head, hoping she’d heed his request. “Really, Sage, I’ll be fine.”

  His plea fell on deaf ears as she left the room.

  “Agatha says your bike is at the bottom of a ravine. Trying to kill yourself?”

  “No, trying to put some space between me and the press.”

  “Now, listen here, son.”

  Dalton groaned. “I’m all ears.”

  “It’s about the only thing you have left. Too bad you’re not using what’s between them.” Doc found a rhythm, and the ping of pebbles in the pan became the backdrop to his lesson. “Do you like her?”

  “Samantha? What’s not to like?”

  “Did you tell her about your past?” Doc dropped the tweezers into the basin and flushed Dalton’s injury with more saline.

  “She heard it from the press first.”

  “And?”

  “After I explained, it was okay.”

  “I knew I liked that girl.”

  “Don’t you get it? We can’t be together. We knew going in there was an expiration date.”

  “You’re wrong. The only true expiration date is sour milk and death. The rest is logistics.”

  “We come from different worlds.”

  Doc slathered soothing salve on the raw skin and wrapped gauze around Dalton’s leg from ankle to hip. He tugged tight for emphasis. Not because he needed to but because he wanted Dalton’s attention.

  “Puppy brains.” He shook his head. “She comes from your world. You think she came here to be Indigo?” Doc reached into the cabinet and pulled out a pair of scrub pants. “She came here to find herself again. Go show her who she is and show the world who you are.” When Dalton opened his mouth to argue, Doc pulled a cherry Life Saver from his pocket and popped it into Dalton’s mouth. “Get dressed. I think I hear your mother coming.”

  As he struggled into the pair of scrubs, his mother burst through the door. Ben, Sage, Bowie, Cannon, and Katie, carrying Sahara, followed her. Dalton craned his neck to see if Samantha came after. She didn’t. Why would she? They were no longer a thing.

  Disappointment filled his empty heart. After everyone reprimanded him for his carelessness, Cannon led him outside to his truck.

  “Sheriff Cooper called in some favors. The Silver Springs Police Department is going to get what’s left of your bike.” They drove down Main Street to Lake Circle, but instead of turning right toward Dalton’s cabin, Cannon pulled up close to the steps in front of the bed and breakfast.

  “What are you doing? Just take me home.”

  “No can do. I’ve been given directions from Sage. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble I’d be in if I didn’t follow instructions?”

  “You’re so whipped.” Dalton looked around before he climbed slowly out of the truck. He didn’t want to attract unwanted publicity to the bed and breakfast.

  Cannon looked past him. “They’re still camped out in front of Samantha’s cabin. They can’t see you here.”

  It seemed an accurate statement. If he couldn’t see them because of the bend in the road, then most likely they wouldn’t see him. “Is she okay? Is she safe?”

  “Okay is a relative term, but she’s safe.”

  Dalton limped up the steps.

  “Why am I here?” He stepped into the unusually darkened room.

  In the shadows, a silhouette moved in his direction.

  “Because I needed to see you.” Samantha rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She filled the cold, cavernous hole in his heart with her warmth and presence.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “What were you thinking?” She stepped back to take inventory of him. When Sage called and said Dalton had laid his bike down on the highway, she’d nearly had heart failure. She’d only just found him. There was no way she was losing him.

  “I’m fine.” He limped forward and cupped her cheek. “Better now that you’re here. I’m so sorry.”

  Cannon cleared his throat behind them. “That would be my cue to leave.” He backed up toward the door. “Sage says the last guest room is yours to use. She also said she’d bring home dinner.”

  Samantha and Dalton tried to stifle their groans, but it was hard to silence the sound of terror. “Man, I need to teach that woman how to cook.”

  Cannon laughed. “Been there, tried that. What we need is one of those places that sells prepared meals for the busy family.”

  Samantha’s eyes brightened in the dim light. “That’s a brilliant idea. I wonder if there are enough people in Aspen Cove to keep it open?” She imagined the town could figure it out. They managed to keep a bakery, a bar, and a diner in business.

  Cannon left them alone. They stood in the middle of the living room, staring at each other.

  “Let’s get you to bed.” Samantha led Dalton down the hallway. He moved slowly, favoring his left side. He inched onto the bed and sighed when he was settled.

  “How did you get here without being seen?” He shifted to his right to get comfortable. His left side was on fire. She could feel the heat rising from his skin.

  “Katie choreographed it all. She contacted the sheriff, who had his deputy distract the reporters while I snuck out the back door. Real cloak-and-dagger kind of stuff.” She laughed at how she’d hunkered down and ran from cabin to cabin until she cleared the deck and dove inside the opened back door to the bed and breakfast. Cannon closed the blinds, and she waited and worried. “If you weren’t already shredded to pieces, I’d skin you alive myself. You left me.”

  “I’m sorry. I was trying to protect you. I still want to protect you.”

  Samantha climbed onto the bed and curled up next to his body. She was careful to stay away from the left side he favored. “I know, and I love that you wanted to save me. I can’t remember a time when anyone gave up something for me, but I don’t want you to give me up to save me. I don’t want to give you up.”

  “You know you can’t keep me. You’ve said so yourself.”

  “What if I could? Would you want me to?”

  He wrapped his arm around her and tugged her tight against his chest
. “Yes. I’ll always want you.”

  She tilted her face toward his, and he kissed her softly and slowly. A lingering kiss that said he was happy to see her.

  “We’ll figure it out.” She had no idea how it could work, but she had to find a way. She knew the press would hound her. They would also hound him. That’s what worried her the most. She’d signed up for it. He hadn’t.

  His past and his presence could ruin her career. Maybe it already had. The headlines were full of stories and pictures. The latest one was of her and Sage and Katie giving the press the finger. Right next to it was Dalton’s mug shot, but she cared less about her career than she did about his privacy.

  “You need to rest.” She reached for the quilt folded at the foot of the bed. He hissed as she pulled it over him. “I’m sorry. How bad is it?”

  “I’ll survive.”

  “What can I do to ease your pain?” Her hand ran up and down his chest until it settled on the waistband of the scrubs Doc had sent him home in.

  His beautiful blue eyes turned from blue to a stormy, gunmetal gray. “Don’t tease an injured man.”

  Her hand slipped below the elastic band and stroked the length of him. “Maybe if I made you feel good somewhere else, you’d forget how much you actually hurt.” When he opened his mouth, she gripped him tighter. Instead of a rebuttal, she got the sweet moan of pleasure.

  “Let me make you feel better, Dalton. Let me take your pain away, if only for a minute.” She didn’t wait for permission. She carefully inched his pants down and gasped at the extent of his injuries. Gauze covered him from hip to ankle. “Oh honey, I had no idea it was this bad.” Her fingers skimmed the bandage. “Maybe I shouldn’t touch you.”

  “Please,” he begged. “Touch me.” He lifted his hips. “Samantha. Touch me.”

  She started at his lips and kissed her way down his body. She wasn’t sure if it was the wisest thing to do, but his throaty hum of pleasure told her it was the best thing to do. Hovering over his silky hard length, her tongue darted out for a taste.