“Do you need any help?”
He couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping his throat. “I beg your pardon.”
She motioned. “With the steps.” Her eyes met his, and he caught the hint of defiance in them that seemed to be saying, You won’t dismiss me with that good ol’ boy indifference.
He looked her up and down, allowing himself a quick pause on the curve of her hips and long legs before flickering back to her face. An amused grin tugged at his lips. “Dressed like that?”
She put a hand on her hip, challenge simmering in her eyes. “Do you want my help or not?”
His blood zinged excitement through his veins. What was it about this woman that made him feel so totally and completely alive? He cocked an eyebrow. “All right, Sie,” he murmured. “Let’s see what ya got.” He pointed to his toolbox. “There’s a chisel in the top tray. Would you get it for me?”
“Sure.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her walk. Her movements were fluid, graceful, her hair bouncing on her shoulders as she went. A couple of seconds later, she returned, handing it to him.
“Thanks,” he said offhandedly.
“What’re you using it for?”
She seemed genuinely interested in what he was doing. “For this.” He began chipping away the wood. “The stringer’s off. I’m trying to make it level so the stairs won’t be crooked.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that wouldn’t be good. I can see the actors now.” She stretched her neck, her voice going lofty as she straightened to her full height and held out her arms in a grand motion as she began quoting, “‘Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.’” She giggled, placing her hand over her mouth. “Because he fell and busted his head during the first scene of the second act.”
He couldn’t help but snigger. “Impressive,” he grunted. “Which play was that from?”
“Macbeth, of course. Bennie’s favorite. Well, second to The Merchant of Venice, that is. But audiences usually prefer Macbeth’s paranoia to Shylock’s demand for a pound of Antonio’s flesh.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Since when did you become an expert on Shakespeare? The girl I knew hated Bennie’s plays.”
“Still do,” she muttered. “But you can’t live with Bennie and not soak a little of it in.” She sighed like she was having some inner dialogue with herself. Then she motioned. “Don’t let me keep you from working.” She looked up at the darkening clouds. “You don’t have much time before the bottom falls out.”
He pursed his lips. “About forty-five minutes, I’m guessing.”
Her eyes widened, then a playful smile tugged at her lips. “Nah, thirty minutes. Tops.”
He felt himself grin, a genuine one this time. “What’s the wager?” When they were kids, they used to lie on the grass and watch the thunderclouds roll in, taking bets on when the first drops of rain would fall. “A kiss?” he said softly, searching her face. That had most often been the prize Dalton wanted. Her jaw dropped as she clenched her hands, making him think he’d pushed too far. But then she laughed.
“I guess I set myself up for that one, huh?”
He nodded. “Pretty much.”
She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “How about a walk instead?”
“A walk?” he asked dubiously.
“If I win, we take a walk together. Down by old man Shutter’s place. I’ve been wanting to go back there, but I’m afraid to go by myself … with the snakes.” She made a face. “And who knows what other creatures rustling around in the grass.”
“To the swimming hole?” He broke into a large smile. “You up for a little skinny dipping, Sie?”
Her face turned beet red as she held up a finger. “No, just a walk. My skinny-dipping days are definitely over.” She straightened her shoulders, a prim look molding over her features. “I’m a changed woman now.”
“Too bad,” he murmured. “Okay, a walk it is, if you win. Which I highly doubt.” He grinned. “I’ll be sure and carry a big stick to ward off the snakes.” He gave her a meaningful look. “And any boogey men we might encounter.”
She grunted, but he caught the smile in her eyes. He didn’t know what had changed in the past few hours, but it was like the old Sierra was returning … his Sierra. He tipped his head, his tone going musing. “Let’s see …” He put a finger to his lips. “What do I want? Other than a kiss, of course?” Her eyes connected with his sending a jolt of adrenaline through him. “If I win, we go into Charleston for a nice dinner.” And maybe a walk on the beach afterwards, he added to himself.
She rocked back. “I—I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He shrugged. “A kiss or dinner. Your choice.”
She laughed, giving him an admiring look. “All right, wise guy. You’re on. For dinner … that is.” She pulled her phone from her back pocket. “Time starts now.”
“I see how you are.”
“What?”
“We’ve spent a good three to five minutes talking about it. You have to deduct that from the time.”
“Fine,” she sniffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re so picky.”
“Just keeping you honest.” How easy it was for them to fall back into their old banter.
She made a flourish with her hand. “Chop, chop. Slow poke.” She looked at the clouds, her eyes dancing wickedly. “I feel the rain coming on,” she drawled. “You’re sooo gonna lose this one.”
He returned to his task, even though his mind was no longer on it, but on the captivating redhead standing beside him. Sierra had always been a beautiful woman, but she’d really come into her own. Regardless of how their little wager turned out, Dalton would get to spend time with her. He almost hoped Sierra won because he’d love to have her all to himself at the swimming hole. Memories came rushing back. Her skin glistening like ivory in the pale moonlight, her red hair spilling down her back. The feel of her in his arms as the cool water lapped around them. The fire that raged through him when their lips connected. Rein it in, boy, he told himself. It was a simple walk. And while Sierra seemed different right this moment that didn’t mean things would stay this way. There was still her life in New York and her hotshot boyfriend to consider.
She looked around, frowning. “I think I need to hire a landscaper to spruce this place up before the play. What do you think?”
He glanced around. “Yeah, it couldn’t hurt. I could put you in touch with one of my guys.”
Her eyes widened in surprise before an appreciative smile curved her lips. “Thanks.”
The moment got slow as their eyes locked. Dalton was almost to his feet, about to pull her into her arms when she broke the connection. “Oh, I almost forgot. I need to snap a few pictures.” Her words rushed out.
“Pictures?” He scratched his head. Sierra was squirrel jumping from topic to topic so fast it was hard to keep up.
She held up her phone. “Say cheese.” She snapped the picture before he had a chance to smile. Then she turned and began taking pictures of the area.
“What’s that for?”
“There. That should do it,” she said to herself, then turned back to him as she shoved her phone in her back pocket. “I’m meeting with a few tourist companies tomorrow. Hopefully, they’ll be able to sell some tickets.” She paused. “We really need it.”
The catch in her voice jumped out at him. “Need it for what?”
She blinked. “Huh?” She chuckled looking embarrassed. “Oh, it’s nothing.”
But he noticed the slight crease in her forehead, could tell by the way she held her mouth that something was wrong. He frowned. “What’re you not telling me?”
“Nothing,” she said with a half laugh. “Geez. You always take one little thing I say and blow it out of proportion.”
Did he? Sierra had certainly accused him of that enough when they were together. He studied her. No, he wasn’t off track. Someth
ing was wrong.
He rose to his feet. “Sie? What is it?” For an instant, the years turned back and he felt the same intense connection that had always been between them—as strong as the tide pulling the waves into the shore.
She offered a strained smile. “I could never keep anything from you.” He was surprised to see tears glistening in her eyes. There was an expression on her face he couldn’t decipher—pain, regret?
His voice went soft as he touched her arm. “What is it?” For a second, he thought she might refuse to answer but then her shoulders sagged.
“Bennie took out a loan against the mansion to fund this stupid theater.” The vehemence in her voice cut like a blade through the moist air.
“What?” He’d always thought Bennie was smart with her money. This seemed out of character for her. Sure, she loved the theater and was a little eccentric, especially when she was getting into her roles. But putting herself in hock? Not something he would’ve expected.
“She’s behind on her payments … twenty-two thousand dollars to be exact. If she doesn’t get it caught up in the next few weeks, the bank will foreclose.” Her voice trembled. “And we’ll lose the mansion.”
He shook his head. “Which bank is it?”
“The bank where Nadine works.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Anyway, that’s why I came back.” She motioned at the stage. “Why I’m getting involved in all this. And why I’m staying for the next four weeks.”
Hope percolated in his chest. He loved hearing Sierra say out loud that she was staying four weeks. He stopped short when he saw tears brimming in her eyes. “Hey.” He touched her arm. “It’ll be all right.”
She nodded, biting her lower lip.
It took everything in him to keep from pulling her into his arms. His heart was both broken and whole. She was here, right in front of him. And yet, she was no longer his. But still he craved her like a drowning man did air. If he pushed too hard, she’d run the other direction.
A slight smile touched her lips, then she let out an embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry to burden you with my problems.”
He shrugged. “No problem. That’s what friends are for.”
She cocked her head. “Is that what we are?”
“We were friends first, weren’t we?” The friendship thing would work. Put her at ease.
Her eyes softened. “Yes, we were.”
“’Friends at first, friends at last’ Isn’t that how the saying goes?” Okay, that was a little much. A beat stretched between them as he sought for the right words to fill the silence.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. Her eyes met his, and he saw a yearning that whispered to his soul. It gave him cause to hope that all wasn’t lost between them. Anticipation tingled over his skin. They were at a crossroads. He could only hope and pray that things would sway in his favor. Otherwise, he was headed for major heartbreak. And he didn’t know if his heart could handle it again. He motioned with his head. “Come on. Let’s sit down. I believe it’s time for the two of us to have a nice, long talk.” Talking was good. Talking implied friendship … understanding, the two of them connecting on an emotional level, rather than the physical.
She looked hesitant at first pursing her lips together. Time seemed to stand still as she reached a decision. Finally, she nodded. “Yes, it’s time.”
Chapter 14
Nothing’s going to happen between me and Dalton. We’re just talking. Old friends are allowed that privilege, right? And that’s all we are. Friends.
Even as the thoughts flitted through her mind, Sierra knew they were lies. She’d come out here for the express purpose of finding Dalton, had even taken a shower and dressed in clothes she knew he’d like. Wore her hair super curly like he liked it.
Ever since her conversation with Nadine, she’d been in turmoil, had spent a solid hour pacing back and forth in her bedroom. If what Nadine said was true … about Dalton no longer drinking, then she’d made a huge mistake by leaving him. At first, she was so fighting mad at Nadine she could hardly see straight. Nadine had played a large part in her fleeing to New York. Heck, Nadine even gave her the money to get established. She’d trusted Nadine’s judgment, believed her when she told Sierra she’d end up just like her mother if she stayed here with Dalton.
After the anger ran its course, Sierra realized she had to take responsibility for her own actions. She’d left because she wanted to go. She wanted to prove that she could make something of herself, and she’d been terrified of Dalton’s drinking. Everything had come to a head that day she’d had the talk with Nadine. Sierra had been vulnerable, ready to act on whatever advice she was given. Especially from such a trusted source. But at the end of the day, she was accountable.
Finally, she decided that the best course of action was to face this. If her relationship with Parker was so weak that it couldn’t withstand her spending a few weeks with Dalton, then that was her answer. But even if she chose Dalton, that didn’t mean he’d choose her. They couldn’t just erase the last seven years and pick up where they’d left off, could they? And what about her obligation to Parker? She’d built a relationship with him. Well, obviously not as strong of a relationship as she’d assumed. Otherwise, they’d already be engaged. But that was beside the point.
“Waffles.”
She jerked slightly realizing Dalton was studying her. She gave him a courtesy smile. “Yeah, waffles.” Being out here with Dalton unleashed so many memories that they rushed over her like a waterfall, making her have irrational thoughts. Thoughts like throwing caution to the wind and kissing him until her need for him was satisfied. No, that was the problem. She’d never get enough of Dalton Chandler. All he had to do was flash that leisurely grin and rove over her with those smoky eyes and she’d be reduced to a puddle of goo.
He angled to face her.
“So, what should we talk about?” she began, hoping he wouldn’t bring up the topic of her leaving him. Then again, maybe it was better to get it out in the open rather than having it dangling over them. “What happened to your jaw?”
He looked surprised.
“The faint scar running along your jaw.”
“Bar fight.” He gave her a slight smile. “If you think this is bad, you should’ve seen the other guy.”
“You always were a hothead.” She assessed him. “When did you stop drinking?”
His eyes rounded. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
She clasped her hands tightly in her lap wanting to make herself small enough to be shielded from the ugliness of the past. “I figure it’s easier to just rip off the Band-Aid in one fell swoop.”
He gave her a curious look. “How did you know I stopped drinking?”
“Nadine told me.”
“I didn’t realize I’d been the hot topic of conversation,” he said dryly.
“You have no idea,” she muttered. “Is it true?” Her heart beat faster. “Are you sober?”
“Yeah, it’s true.” He looked puzzled and amused. “How about you?”
“Of course,” she said impatiently. “I haven’t touched a drop since I moved to New York. But I was never addicted like you were.” She hated how pious her words sounded, but it was true. She could take or leave alcohol, whereas it had been Dalton’s Achilles heel.
He blew out a heavy breath. “Yeah, I know.” Remorse settled into his eyes. “I’m sorry for all the crap I put you through. It was a tough time with my dad. You know, trying to find out who I was.”
Emotion thickened her throat as she swallowed, the memories of those terrible times overtaking her. “It was rough,” she admitted. “I didn’t have a clue how to deal with your destructive behavior.”
He nodded, his jaw working. “I know. I’m sorry. My old man and I were volleying for power.” He laughed humorlessly. “I was trying to show him that I was tougher than he was. If he was going to beat me, then by golly, he’d get beaten back.”
“I remember.” Dalton’s dad w
ould go into drunk rages and beat him. It had been happening since they were kids. Many a night, Dalton would sneak out of his house after his dad passed out and jog the half mile to the mansion. He’d climb up the trellis to the second story and in through her bedroom window. He’d sleep on a pallet beside her bed, just so he could be somewhere safe.
Her voice hitched, her hand clutching her neck. “That day when you insisted on driving … you were so drunk you could barely walk, much less drive. And then you took a curve too fast and we ended up in that field.” She coughed, trying to stifle the quiver in her voice. “I thought we were goners. You missed that tree by only a few inches.” His face had gone the color of chalk, his lips drawn into a tight line. She could feel the regret emanating from him. “I went to Nadine’s to see if Hal could pull us out because you were passed out cold from the booze.” She hated rehashing all this. Hated all the emotion it unearthed. Hated the accusation in her voice, but wanting to set the stage. She needed him to understand her reasoning.
His brow furrowed, his eyes darkening to a fathomless gray. “The Camaro didn’t get a scratch on it.”
“I know,” she said impatiently. “It’s the what could’ve happened that got to me.”
“I told you I was sorry and that it would never happen again.”
“I wanted to believe you, truly. But I was afraid.” Tears escaped the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Hastily, she wiped them away with her palms.
A peculiar look came into his eyes. “Is that why you left? Because you were afraid I wouldn’t stop drinking?”
“Partly.”
He swore under his breath. Then he gulped out a laugh, bringing his hand to his mouth. “You know? Deep down, I think I knew that. Only I didn’t really realize I knew it until just now.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. I lost you to the bottle. Ironic, isn’t it? Considering my old man?”
“There’s more.” The air was so dense with moisture that Sierra knew the rain wouldn’t hold off much longer. But she had to get this out, here and now. Otherwise, she’d never have the courage to bring it up again. She touched his arm. The pained look on his face clutched her stomach like a fist. “I was pregnant.”
Seeking Mr. Perfect (The Jane Austen Pact) Page 13
