by Darcy Burke
He walked inside and scanned the interior. Spotting Cameron and Hayden in a corner booth, he made his way over and nearly tripped when he saw who was on the other side of the table—Tori and Sara.
“Hey, Dylan!” Tori gestured for him to sit.
Both seats were long enough to fit three people, and since each currently held two, he had to choose—sit next to his brother or next to Sara?
His gaze lingered on her. She’d made eye contact when he’d first approached but now she was studying her drink—another lemon drop. She looked fantastic, the ends of her blonde hair grazing her shoulder blades and her makeup accentuating the lush pink of her lips and the alluring blue of her eyes. He quickly looked at his brother before he could be caught staring and dropped down beside him.
Sara’s shot him a look, and Dylan realized he’d chosen poorly. He’d thought to avoid proximity to her by sitting across the table, but now he was looking right at her. And fighting a sudden and overwhelming desire.
Irritated at the direction of his thoughts, he turned to his brother and socked him in the arm. “What’s with the blindside?”
“My fault,” Hayden said. “Since you’re coming out with us tonight, I didn’t want there to be any weirdness. And since we’ve already decided about the job . . . ”
Hell. The job. Of course. “You convened at a sports bar on a Saturday night to work?”
Tori flashed him a grin. “We Archers know how to do things right—plus, we grew up in brewpubs so this feels natural.”
“But we didn’t want to meet at the Arch and Vine,” Hayden said, referring to their flagship pub in Ribbon Ridge. “This at least gets us partway to Portland so we can get our evening started.”
Dylan snuck a look at Sara, but she was still engrossed in her drink. That was twice now that Hayden had mentioned them going out. Was that awkward for her to hear? He shouldn’t care . . . they didn’t owe each other anything, but he was surprised to find that it bothered him.
“Are you going to tell him or what?” Cameron asked.
It seemed Cameron knew about the job before Dylan. He tried not to let that irritate him even further. He really hated that they’d surprised him like this. His head had been wired for a guys’ night out, not a work meeting involving his favorite one-night stand.
Favorite? Hell yes.
“You’ve got the job,” Tori said, smiling.
Dylan felt a surge of adrenaline but tamped it back. “The entire job?”
“Just phase one,” Hayden answered, exchanging a brief glace with Tori. “For now. You’re definitely not out of the running for the next phases.”
Dylan couldn’t help feeling disappointed, which was silly. Phase one was a great opportunity, and his guys would have months of work now. Plus, he’d be on-site and could continue to lobby for the rest of the job. And show them how right he and his team were for it.
He glanced at Sara again. She hadn’t said a word since he’d arrived.
“Thank you,” Dylan said. “I appreciate the opportunity, and I’ll make sure you have no doubt that we’re the best choice for phases two and three.”
Tori lifted her beer. “Excellent. We should toast.”
Sara finally spoke. “He doesn’t have a glass.” She reached over to the empty pint glass sitting beside the nearly empty pitcher and poured him the rest of the IPA. “Here.” She slid it over to him.
He took it from her, his fingers connecting with hers and driving a jolt of awareness straight to the pit of his belly. “Thanks.”
“To phase one,” Tori said.
“To phase one,” Hayden answered and they all drank.
Dylan took a long pull on his beer before setting it back on the table. “Do me a favor though; next time you have a meeting, can you let me know about it in advance instead of ambushing me?”
“I told them it was a bad idea,” Sara said, casting him an apologetic glance that made him like her even more. Damn.
Hayden nodded. “So you did. You’re the boss now,” he said to Dylan.
“Ha, not really. I answer to you guys.” Including Sara.
“Speaking of meetings,” Tori said, leaning forward, “I’d like to meet at the site trailer Monday morning at eight thirty to review the plans and permits and whatnot.”
The conversation turned to project business for the next fifteen minutes as they finished their beers and Sara nursed her lemon drop. She contributed to the discussion—clearly taking her job as phase-one manager quite seriously and damn if that wasn’t sexy as hell—but Dylan sensed there was something off about her tonight.
Cameron set his empty pint glass on the table. “Enough business for a Saturday night, people.” He looked at Hayden and Dylan. “Ready to go? I thought we’d stop in for a bite at Urban Farmer.”
“Mmm, yum,” Tori said. “I’d invite myself but it’s clear you guys are on the prowl and I have a date with a soaker tub.” She glanced around. “Who’s picking this up?”
Sara pulled her wallet from her purse. “I got it. Business expense.”
“Absolutely,” Hayden said, looking at Dylan with a gaze that clearly implied, “Let’s go.”
Dylan stood from the table. “Guys, I think I’m going to pass tonight.”
Cameron slid out from the booth. “No, you can’t. You have to come. I insist.”
Dylan gave him a wry smile. “Insist all you like.”
“Come on, dude.” Hayden straightened his shirt as he stood. “You just scored a major project—you need to celebrate.”
Maybe, but cruising for his next one-night stand had lost its appeal. His gaze dropped to Sara’s head. No, it wasn’t because of her. He just wasn’t in the mood. “Thanks, but I’m good. Really.”
“I’ll wait here with Sara for the bill,” Tori said. “You guys go ahead.”
Dylan saw an opening and he took it. “I think I’m going to hang out and play some pool. I’ll wait with Sara.”
Her gaze shot up, but only briefly so that he couldn’t tell what she thought of that.
Tori shrugged. “Cool.”
Sara stood so that Tori could exit the booth.
“We’ll walk you out,” Hayden said to Tori and the trio left.
Sara sank back into the booth. “You don’t have to wait with me.”
“It’s no trouble. I really am going to play some pool. You want to play with me?” What the hell was he doing?
She looked up at him, her blue eyes contemplative.
“It’s just pool,” Dylan said. “Come on, I’ll tell the server we’re heading to the back.”
Without waiting for her response, he went over to the bar and told the bartender they were moving. When he turned around, she had her lemon drop in hand and was walking to the back of the building where a half-dozen pool tables were ringed by bar-height tables and stools. A handful of large flat-screen TVs were mounted high on the walls and showed either a basketball game or a highlight show.
She set her drink down on a table and scooted onto the barstool, hanging her purse over the back. He joined her.
“I really am sorry about the blindside. Tori and Hayden thought it would be fun, despite my insistence that it wasn’t very professional.”
“It’s okay.” Maybe Fate was trying to tell them not to be professional. Whoa, Dylan, keep that shit to yourself. “I don’t tend to like surprises.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I like routine. Probably because I didn’t have much of one when I was younger. Moving back and forth—weekdays at one place, most weekends at the other.”
“That must’ve been tough. I can’t function without routine.”
The server arrived at their table with a beer for him and another lemon drop for her.
“I hope you don’t mind that I ordered you another drink.”
“On my tab?” She laughed.
“Actually, I paid for these already,” he said, arching a brow.
She lifted her glass in toast. “Touché.”
<
br /> He set his beer down after taking a drink. “Is this weird? I probably shouldn’t be fraternizing with the boss.”
“I’m not really your boss.”
“Hmmm. You decided whether to hire me. You’ll give me direction since you’re managing phase one. And you’ll evaluate my work. Sounds like you’re my boss.” He couldn’t resist winking at her.
“You put it like that . . . ” She looked down at her drink and twirled the stem between her fingers. They never stopped moving along the glass. He saw a faint ridge along the stem and figured it was a sensory thing. She peered over at him. “Yeah, maybe this is weird.”
The boss-employee thing. The one-night stand. His smoldering desire for her. The fact that he’d ditched a guys’ night out in favor of hanging with her.
“Not weird.” Not fine either. What the hell was it? Excruciating, he decided. Time to change the subject. He really didn’t want things to be awkward. Regardless of their past, he liked her and he wanted to be friends—as much as a boss and employee could be friends. “You seemed a little pensive earlier. Is everything all right? Wait, I think I know. You weren’t in favor of hiring me, were you?”
“Actually, I wasn’t at first.” He’d been kidding, and hearing her admit it felt like a kick to the gut. Something must’ve reflected in his reaction. “No, no. It’s not you, it’s me.” She smiled. “I’m really screwing this up. What I mean to say is that I was worried the . . . our . . . that night would get in the way. But I realized that was dumb. We’re consenting adults and we both said we’re good with this. I think you’re going to do an amazing job and I’m looking forward to working with you.”
He sat back against the stool in relief. “That’s good to hear. I want you to be comfortable with this.”
“I am. I’m just preoccupied with my mom and my dad. Things are really tough for them right now.”
“I’m sure.”
The server showed up again, this time with potato skins and spinach-artichoke dip.
Sara plucked up a tortilla chip and swept it into the dip. “I’m actually starving. And this is my favorite dip.”
“But no Archer brew.” Dylan nodded at Sara’s drink. “Do you only drink the family beer?”
She shook her head. “I rarely drink beer at all. Only if it’s got a bunch of fruit in it.” She laughed. “Much to my dad’s chagrin.”
Dylan smiled at the irony. Her father was one of the best microbrewers in the state and she practically never drank it. “I’m a fan of the Nock. And the Longbow. And I really like the Robin Hood in the summer.”
She squinted an eye at him. “Are there any you don’t like?”
He laughed. “Probably not.”
“My dad’s always brewing new stuff. You should come over some time and sample the kegs.” Her face darkened and she scooped up her glass for a long drink.
He leaned forward, setting his elbow on the table. “What’s wrong?”
She looked to the side of him for a moment before answering, like she was gathering her words. “Dad actually hasn’t brewed anything in a long time. Not since before . . . ”
Before her brother had killed himself. Sorrow lined her face, and he recognized the expression as the one she’d been wearing when he’d first come to the table. She was sad. Had something happened today? “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but if you ever do, I’m happy to listen.”
“My dad was pretty upset this morning. It’s hard to watch him struggle like that. You look to your parents for strength . . . ” Her voice trailed off and her eyes shuttered, like she was closing up inside.
He rushed to bring her back from her dark thoughts. “I think you probably have plenty of strength all on your own.” How did he know that? He wasn’t sure, but he just did.
She glanced up at him as she dipped another chip. “Thanks. Why didn’t you go out with Cameron and Hayden?”
He blinked at her, not knowing what to say, which was asinine. He didn’t have to tell her the truth—that he’d jumped at the chance to just hang here with her. “I just didn’t feel like going out. Some of the clubs they hit aren’t my scene.”
“I hear you. That night I met you at Sidewinders, my assistant tried to get me to go out to a club in town—totally not my thing.”
He was glad she’d gone to Sidewinders, but he didn’t say so. In fact, he decided to drive the conversation in a new direction—one that didn’t continually remind him of the amazing night they’d spent together. “You aren’t the only one who had a rough morning. I found out my ex is getting married.”
She put her fingers back around the stem of her glass and stroked the ridge. “Oh. You aren’t still . . .?” Though she didn’t finish, the question was clear in her gaze.
“In love with her? No.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I loved her for a long time.”
Where had that come from? He hadn’t ever told anyone that.
Sara cocked her head to the side, clearly interested. “Really? Why did you marry her? Or did the falling out of love part happen afterward?”
He couldn’t pinpoint an exact time. “We were high school sweethearts who probably should’ve broken up when we went to different colleges. I should’ve realized after we took a ‘break’ during our junior year that we weren’t meant for the long haul. But we got married anyway. She hated being away from her family when I was in the military, and that was pretty much all it took to end it for good.”
“I still can’t believe she walked away from your domestic skills.” She gave him a playful smile. “But she knew what she signed up for when she married a military guy, so that’s her bad, in my opinion.”
He laughed. “I like your assessment. Honestly, I was relieved.” He paused. “Wow, that makes me sound like a bit of an asshole, doesn’t it?”
Her smile crept back. “No, I think I understand. How’d you find out about her getting married?”
He took another drink and leaned back against the stool. “Would you believe my stepmother is still close with my ex-mother-in-law?”
Her eyes rounded and one side of her mouth ticked up. “No. That’s awful.”
“It’s bizarre, for sure. But Jess and I were together for more than ten years, off and on. I guess it’s to be expected that they would be friends.”
“I suppose. Still weird, though. Does your stepmother realize that?”
“I doubt it. She doesn’t realize much.” He pressed his lips together. “That’s not fair. She’s a good person; she just doesn’t get too involved in my life. Which is fine.”
“I don’t know, being BFFs with your ex-mother-in-law seems pretty involved. At least in your former life.” Sara sipped her lemon drop. “I’m firmly on your side for this one.”
He shifted, unsure of how to respond. He was used to being alone, liked being alone. He decided he was overthinking the hell out of an innocuous statement. He held up his beer. “I propose a toast. To forgetting about our lousy mornings.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
They clinked glasses and dove into the food for a minute or two.
“You know,” she said, “I’m getting kind of tired of lousy mornings. Since I went back to live at home, it’s like this horrible weight of sadness just hangs over everything. I’m not sure how much more I can handle.” She flicked a worried look at him, like maybe she was afraid she was sharing too much. She wasn’t. He liked hearing her talk. About anything really, but especially to unburden herself. He sensed she didn’t get much of an opportunity to do that right now.
“I didn’t realize you’d moved back to Ribbon Ridge.”
She nodded. “Not permanently, but for now, while I’m managing the project and to be there for my mom. I go to my condo once in a while, but only for a night here and there. I miss being on my own. Independence was the reason I moved away in the first place.”
Dylan thought of his own need to get out of town. “I get you. I couldn’t wait to get to U-Dub and then I enro
lled in ROTC with the intent of joining the army and getting far away from Ribbon Ridge.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Restless, I guess. When I went from spending weekdays at my mom’s to spending them at my dad’s in high school, it was a . . . weird adjustment.”
“How?”
He thought of the awkwardness of intruding on his dad’s family, invading their daily routine, which was precisely how it had felt. They loved him, welcomed him, but he was a piece of a different puzzle—one he wondered if he’d ever find. “My room was my dad’s office. I slept on the sofa bed. I never really felt like I lived there, but it was important enough for me to go to West Valley High—for the football program—so I put up with it.”
“That doesn’t sound like fun,” she said softly.
He inwardly cringed, wishing he hadn’t shared so much. “Is it too late to ask for Vegas Rules again?”
She returned his smile. “Not at all. Guess that means it’s your turn to ask me something.”
Heat sparked in his groin as the first question popped into his head: Will you let me make love to you again? No way was he going to ask that. Since he’d overshared, he decided to go for broke. “Why did Alex kill himself?”
Her hand flexed, her fingers tugging her sleeve up over her hand. She didn’t immediately answer and Dylan worried he’d overstepped. Why had he asked such a personal question anyway? Because he felt comfortable with her—like they were friends. An apology formed on his lips when she said, “Actually, it’s a bit of a mystery. None of us saw it coming.”
She looked out at the pool tables where a few games had started up. “He was sick. He’d always been sick. He was the one born with the most problems. He was the smallest, stayed in the NICU the longest, suffered several infections, and had terrible respiratory issues that became chronic lung disease.” Dylan vaguely remembered this from their reality show, which had detailed their miraculous conception—via fertility drugs—and birth. “He was oxygen dependent and apparently very depressed,” Sara continued. “We all knew he was seeing a psychologist, but we didn’t understand how bad off he really was. He tried taking antidepressants but suffered a reaction that caused a lung infection. Honestly, he hid the symptoms of his depression really well. Or we were all just too self-involved to notice.” She wore a vague frown, almost akin to befuddlement, like she was going over in her mind how they all could’ve missed the clues.
