by Mimi Barbour
“What would you like to drink?” Dillon asked. “A whiskey?”
Her lips almost lifted upward but not quite. “No. Water’s fine. I’m driving.”
She planned on going back tonight? Something was off kilter and he didn’t know what. He felt the same primal attraction to her but sensed that something had changed on her end.
Figured. She’d been too good to be true.
He’d texted his buddies to meet him here for some pool, and to possibly entertain Crysta’s friend, who just happened to be the woman Davey had been mooning over.
His plan to whisk Crysta away might not actually come to fruition, and this made him answer more shortly than he’d wanted. “Where ya headed?”
She seemed caught by his question and didn’t answer.
“That you have to leave?” he prompted. “I’d hoped you might be staying around Jacksonville. I leave in a few days for two months, teaching. You could both stay at my place, if you don’t have a hotel already.”
Crysta backed up, until she hit the long wooden bar with her elbow. “Oh, uh, Saint Augustine. We are going to do a ghost tour. See the old fort.” Her words sped up as if she was making the plan as she went. But why?
He ordered the burgers and the drinks. Lara headed to the restroom and he reached for Crysta’s hand.
A jolt of awareness zapped him and she jumped. At least that answered his question—she was still into him, too.
“Are you here to take me up on my offer of being special friends?” Long distance lovers held an appeal.
“Nope.” She lifted their entwined fingers, a sad smile hovering around her mouth. “To see if this was real. What we felt that night. I’ve never, and I wondered if maybe I’d imagined it, and…” Crysta averted her gaze.
Dillon sensed that she was hiding something. What did she want from him, if not some sort of relationship? He’d been trained to survive in dangerous situations and this had the hairs on his nape rising.
Retreat. Assess. “How was that fashion thing? Are you moving to New York?” He tugged his hand free and shoved it in his front pocket.
She blinked quickly, but then lifted her chin. “Hair Expo? No, I’m not.”
Was she looking for a steady boyfriend? A change of scenery? A place to live? If she thought he would be an easy mark, she was wrong. Even if she was gorgeous.
“Too bad,” he said, casual. “I like Manhattan. Central Park. Seems each major city has a green area like that with paths and entertainment—I’ve been to every state capitol in the US.”
“It sounds exciting, your job in the Navy.” She didn’t move, other than to shift her weight from her left sneaker to the right.
“My career. I’m a lieutenant. These days, even as a helo pilot, I could get as high as captain.”
She nodded, not changing expression.
“Yep. I’m only thirty. I could be in for another forty years—I’ll probably see most of Europe by then.” He laughed, not understanding what the hell he was doing. He could see she wasn’t impressed. If he had to listen to some blowhard brag about himself, he wouldn’t be happy either. “What I really want to do is go on Safari, you know, hunt lions.”
She sucked in a breath and grabbed the back of the barstool.
“Just kidding,” he said. “With a camera. Better?”
Crysta’s eyes narrowed just the slightest bit. “This was a mistake, coming here.”
“Why?” He put his foot on the bar rail and leaned his elbow on the counter. “Did you find out that I’m just a regular guy in the light of day?”
“I was hoping that you would be a regular guy.” She slipped her purse off her shoulder to the seat, the strap between her fingers. “Not someone who makes me tongue-tied. Nervous.”
She was nervous, too? Somehow that eased his mind. “Are you lying about Saint Augustine?”
“No,” she said. “Lara and I talked about what else was around here, in case we didn’t stay.”
He liked that she was honest about having a Plan B. He relaxed his guard, realizing that they were in the same boat. “Change your mind. I’ll take you on a copter ride tomorrow over the bay. Show you the naval station from the air.”
She released her grip on the strap of her purse. “That is very tempting, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why so cynical? The girl that night on the beach would jump at the chance for an adventure.” He’d been so attracted to the fact that she’d bungie-jumped and loved roller coasters and scary movies.
“That girl had to grow up.” She sent a desperate glance toward the bathroom and her missing friend.
“What happened?” He reached for her hand again. “Anything I can help with?”
“You’ve done enough.”
Dillon felt as if something precious was slipping away, just out of his reach. He tugged her to him and his mouth found hers. He kissed her passionately.
She responded to his touch, her soft skin heating beneath his fingertips, her mouth parting slightly to allow his tongue entrance. Her low moan at the back of her throat made him wrap his fingers in the silky strands of hair at the back of her head, and she melted into him.
No other woman had ever been his match like this—how could she leave to look at some old fort?
“I’ll take you flying,” he whispered against her pliant mouth. She brought her hand up his arm to his shoulder, and around his neck. Long, slender fingers warm on his skin. “You said you wanted to see what it was like.”
“Not now.” She leaned back, slipping free of his embrace. “Things have changed.” Crysta gave a brittle smile. “Your career sounds awesome. I hope that things really go your way, so you won’t have to work so hard.” She leaned against the chair, deceptively casual. “Do you worry that you’ll ever get lonely?”
“No.” The word fell flat. “I’m not interested in family, and I told you why.” He stared at her hard, trying to figure her out. That night on the beach, she’d felt the same way.
“Yes, you did.”
Lara returned from the restroom just as the burgers came out from the kitchen, delivered by Red himself—Irish from his red hair to his love of drink.
Crysta pressed her fingers to her mouth and then shook her head at Lara though Lara hadn’t spoken. “If we leave now, we can be home just after midnight.”
Lara hummed and looked longingly toward the cheeseburger. She pulled a twenty from the side of her purse and put it on the bar. “Any chance we can get these to go?”
“Sure,” Crysta said. “Grab extra napkins.”
“Stay here and eat,” Dillon commanded. “I won’t bite, Crysta. I don’t know what just happened.”
“Nothing happened. Nothing is going to happen. I want to go home.” She fished her keys from the inside of her purse and dangled them from her forefinger. “Never mind, Lara. I will buy you dinner on the road. Let’s go.”
Dillon was powerless to keep her there against her will.
Powerless, unless he kissed her again and made her tell him what was going on—the truth. He would spend the rest of his life kissing her, if that is what it took to keep her in his life.
His friends came in, rowdy and ready to party, just as Crysta and Lara left. He had no explanation for the incredible sense of loss that overwhelmed him.
Chapter Five
“What did you do to scare them off?” Mack asked, looking from Dillon to the bar door. Crysta and Lara were gone, leaving their burgers behind.
Crysta’s long legs couldn’t get her out of there fast enough. What had he said? What had he done?
“I kissed her,” Dillon said. “Offered to take her in the copter, and flying over the bay.”
Chapman picked a fry off Crysta’s plate and popped it in his mouth. “Sounds fine to me. You said she likes that stuff.”
“Maybe she just said that to get your attention. Chicks are weird.” Mack slapped Dillon on the shoulder, commiserating.
“She’s not like that. She’s been b
ungie jumping and white-water rafting.” A kindred adventurous soul.
“I forgot how hot she was.” Chapman took another fry.
“I like Lara.” Davey settled himself in front of what would have been Lara’s dinner and picked up the burger in two hands. “Call and see if they’ll come back.”
“She drove over four hours to get here and instead of staying to even finish dinner she’s driving four hours home—unless they decide on Saint Augustine instead. I don’t understand.” His jaw clenched so hard he heard a molar crack.
“I would have given her anything, even a kidney,” Chapman declared.
She hadn’t asked for anything. “I don’t know what that was all about. But I do know that I’m not going to let a woman ruin my night.” He pushed away from the stool. “Let’s play some pool.”
“Like every other weekend?” Mack asked, not hiding his sarcasm.
“Yeah.” Dillon stood at the bar before his plate, swallowing down what tasted like hurt. Rejection. Loss.
“Perfect.” Chapman waved to the bartender. “Can I get a Sam Adams?”
***
Crysta was so upset that she had to pull over at a rest stop and hand Lara the keys. “He is not interested in a family.”
“I heard from the bathroom. I’m sorry.” Lara got behind the wheel and started the engine. “But maybe if he knew about the baby he would change his mind.”
“I don’t think so. And I have no right to ask him to do it. His mom resented raising him and I just can’t do that to him. Talk about repeating old patterns.”
“You broke yours.”
“Yeah, after years of therapy.” Hot tears coursed down her cheeks, dropping from her chin to her lap. She’d dressed for confidence, to wow him—and he’d wanted her. She felt it. But lust and desire were a poor replacement for love. And, with each passing day, she knew that’s what she needed.
“Should we go to Saint Augustine, for real?” Lara asked. “It’s only half an hour away and we might as well have some fun. I mean, I’m sorry that your heart is breaking…why is your heart breaking, by the way? Do you care for him?”
Crysta waved her hand in confusion. “I don’t know. I am feeling everything in techno color and I hate it. I much prefer tidy emotions to be taken out when I want them.”
Lara snorted. “Plug in Saint Augustine.”
Sniffing, Crysta pulled it up on the GPS. “Okay. We might as well stay over and check it out. Since when do you get to be so bossy?”
“Since I’m your new life partner. I won’t put out, but I will take out the trash when you get too big to do it.”
Crysta burst into laughter.
“Besides, nothing cheers you up more than a scary story. And, what can be more scary than a hearse tour through a cemetery at midnight?”
“Now you’re talking.” Anything to forget the feel of Dillon’s arms around her, and the questioning look in his eyes.
***
“That was the least scary tour I’ve ever been on,” Crysta complained as they checked into a very inexpensive motel about midnight. “I squinted and squinted but I didn’t see a single orb.”
Lara giggled, her cheeks rosy with wine and from flirting with the lanky tour guide, who had insisted the cemetery was loaded with ghosts.
“He just wanted to help you hold your camera.” Crysta opened their room and rushed her friend inside, closing the door behind them and throwing the bolt.
“He was soooo cute!” Lara flopped down on her back on top of the bedspread. There were two full-sized beds, a television with rabbit ears, a cracked yellowed mirror over a sink, then the toilet and shower.
“He was all right.” He did not flirt at all with Crysta and she had to wonder if she was putting off some maternal pheromone.
“He didn’t believe that your birthday was on Halloween but you showed him,” Lara drawled, her eyes closing. She kicked off her boots with a thunk to the thin carpeted floor.
Born on Halloween, it had seemed like her personal holiday. No matter what else had been going on there was always candy and treats—even if it not directly for her. She couldn’t remember how many times her birthday had been forgotten, and yet somehow, she still always got sweets. Elementary school had been extremely painful until she’d learned to pretend that it was all for her.
Once at whatever home she was in, the fantasy was over.
Ghosts weren’t scary; people were. Lara started to snore softly and Crysta decided to let her friend sleep. She was too wired to even lie down.
Tension streaked across her shoulders. She thought of Dillon’s large, capable hands on her body and was tempted to drive back to Jacksonville. Explain everything. But then she remembered the intense dislike he’d shown regarding family and shook her head. She, in sole charge of another person? Her chest ached and she couldn’t breathe.
Lara stirred, then sat up slowly. “What’s wrong, Crysta?”
Crysta hadn’t realized she’d been crying and she quickly wiped her face with a rough tissue from the box by the sink. “So many things, it’s hard to say.”
Lara scooted over on the brown comforter and patted the mattress for Crysta to sit down. “Oh, hon. You will be okay. You both will.” She rubbed Crysta’s back. “But there is no doubt that your life is going to change.”
Crysta leaned against Lara with a speechless nod.
“Right now, you can do whatever you want, when you want. We can drive wherever and see a ghost tour. Next year this time, forget it. You’ll have to hire a babysitter—and that costs money.” Lara frowned intently. “And you have to vet these people. You don’t want just anybody watching your kid, right?”
No…she’d seen for herself what happened to innocents when nobody in charge was paying attention. “I don’t need to go out.”
“For sixteen years?”
“The kid can come with me.” Thinking of the awful things that had happened to her when she was young made her terrified to leave the house, or her child, alone. Not much scared her but that sure did.
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Lara patted her arm. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re right. Things will be different…but I will figure it out. And if this kid needs to be joined at my hip until, I don’t know, 40? Then so be it.”
“Pretty funny. We could do a lot of entertaining at home. And this probably isn’t the best time but since we are talking about changes…well, you’ve got to get a comfy couch. You can’t raise a child on a sofa so hard it bruises your butt.”
“You said you liked that couch!” It had taken her so long to find just the right one.
“It’s very stylish. But it is awful to sit on.”
“Honest, but true. I reached that conclusion earlier. I’ve got it for sale.”
Lara smiled. “So far, so good, then. Let’s get some sleep. And I’m really sorry that things with Dillon didn’t work out. I guess it’s time to move ahead on our own.”
And just like that, her best friend was zonked on the bed, her eyes closed. Crysta covered her with a blanket then got in her own bed.
She and Dillon had been so hot together, so good, she wasn’t surprised they’d created something magical that night. An unexpected gift.
If she thought there was any chance he’d see it that way, then she would tell him—but he had his own scars from childhood.
She understood very well why he needed to take care of himself, first. In fact, she dared anybody to understand that better. Crysta rubbed her flat stomach and closed her eyes in the cheap motel. “It’s you and me, baby. You and me.”
Chapter Six
October
“Thanks for your help, man.” Dillon dropped Davey off at his apartment, which was base housing close to the airport and on the way home for Dillon. He’d kept his truck in long-term parking, a cost the Navy reimbursed.
The last two months teaching in Arizona had gone all right—the occasional hiccup from a recruit that wasn’t keeping up with studies—but mo
stly they’d had a dedicated and talented class. The folks already had flying hours but they needed to understand the MH-60R Seahawk —which was a different animal than a jet or a plane.
“You are a great teacher. But I especially loved the weekends off, in Vegas.” Davey patted his denim-clad butt, where his wallet lived.
“How much are you up?”
Davey’s grin bordered on manic. “Five grand, thank you.”
“You can buy drinks at Red’s tonight.” Dillon had only gone to Vegas once, won a hundred at black jack, and called it good. He’d spent what little free time he had helping Martin pass the quizzes. The kid knew the information but didn’t test well. “And chicken wings, since you’re loaded.”
“I’ll call ya. I think Chapman and Mack want to go to a few parties, do some trick or treating.” Davey waved and strode into his apartment, his backpack hanging by a strap across one shoulder. They were each scheduled for a week off before getting back to their offices. What will I do with a week off?
Two months in the desert made his skin itch and he couldn’t wait to jump in the ocean and get a beach fix. But the second he opened the door to his apartment, instead of feeling glad to be home and in his own space, he was very aware of the echoing emptiness around him.
While he’d been gone, he’d barred Crysta from his daytime thoughts but she intruded in Dillon’s dreams, where he had no defense.
He went over every nuance of what she’d said, how she’d looked, and what he’d said and done. Dillon wasn’t the kind of guy to dwell in the past, but he wished he could go back and rewind time. Hold Crysta in the bar. Kiss her until she told him what she’d come all that way to say.
It was all he could think about. That, and how to fix whatever was wrong between them. It didn’t help that he knew today was her birthday. What would she do if he just showed up and surprised her?
The more he thought about it, the more he decided to just do it—he was a risk-taker, and these stakes were huge. Before he could talk himself out of it, he called the florist near her job at the salon and ordered dozens of orange roses to be delivered around three that afternoon. He planned to call her boss, Jimmi, she’d said, and ask him to let her go early so he could pick Crysta up in a limo and take her out for a night to remember. A night where he could show her that he cherished her, and not just for sex.
