by Darcy Burke
“Can you talk to the psychologist?”
“She closed her practice and left Ribbon Ridge after he died. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, does it? He’s gone and we can’t bring him back.” Her gaze connected with his for a brief second, but it was enough for him to suspect that she was done talking about this.
He felt bad for asking the question in the first place. She’d already said she was tired of bad days, and here he was dredging up her brother’s suicide. Damn, he was really off his game with this one. “I think it’s time for that game of pool. Have you played before?”
Her eyes took on an attentive luster. “Yes, but not in a long time.”
“It’s like riding a bike.” He jumped down from his stool and went to select a couple of cues from the wall. He was mildly surprised when she joined him and immediately picked one up. “You know what you want?” he asked, not intending the innuendo, but enjoying the answering sparkle in her gaze.
She ran her palm along the length. God, was she doing that on purpose? He went half-hard and prayed she didn’t notice. “Looks good to me.” She strolled over to the closest pool table.
He chose a cue for himself, adjusting his jeans while his back was to her, then went back to the table. “Do you want to play eight ball? That’s the simplest, and if it’s been a while since you played, might be best.”
She narrowed her eyes at him slightly. “Are you going easy on me because you feel sorry for me after the conversation we just had?”
He laughed. “Maybe. Should I stop?”
She was quiet a moment. “No, an easy game is for the best, I think.”
He gathered the balls and racked them on the table. “Ladies first.”
Sara positioned the cue ball and broke. She immediately sank the yellow number one ball. She glanced up at him. “Lucky break.”
“Apparently. Do you know what to hit next?”
“I try to put all the solids into the pockets, if memory serves.”
“That’s right.”
She moved around the table, bending to try a shot, but then standing up and moving. “This is harder than I remember.” She leaned over again and took her shot, sending the blue ball skidding into a side pocket. Her gaze flickered surprise.
She moved to a new position on the opposite side of the table and took her time lining up for a shot. She hit the orange ball, but it didn’t go in. She straightened, though her gaze still studied the table. “Your turn.”
He touched her back lightly. “That was a great start.”
“Thanks.” She retreated to their table and sipped her drink while Dylan contemplated his shot.
He took the easiest angle first, dropping the ten ball in a corner pocket, then sank the fifteen and twelve in rapid succession. He glanced over at Sara, but she was watching the table intently. Should he miss his next shot? He didn’t want to trounce her. He also didn’t want to give her the game, both because he didn’t think she’d want him to and because the competitor in him was alive and well.
He took his time eyeing his next shot, but finally put the nine ball in a side pocket. Sara stood near the table, her hand wrapped around the upper part of her cue, which rested on the floor. Her hip was cocked at a provocative angle that drew Dylan’s eye to follow the curve of her thigh up to the sharp indentation of her trim waist and then farther up to the lacy camisole peeking out from the low V-neck of her green sweater.
“You going to play or gawk?” she asked.
He snapped his head up to find her eyes on him in a distinctly hot stare. There was a challenge and a promise in her gaze that nearly drove pool completely from his mind. Reluctantly, he forced himself to take his next shot, but just missed sinking the thirteen ball.
He walked back to their table and took a drink of beer. Sara was already taking her shot by the time he set his glass down. The number three ball slid into a corner pocket. She barely hesitated before sending the four ball into another pocket. Then she leaned down to shoot the five ball. She was shooting them in order. And doing a damned good job of it.
Before he knew it, she’d sunk five, six, and seven. Without looking at him first, she set her cue behind the eight ball and shot it mercilessly across the table, smacking the fourteen ball in the process. Nevertheless, the eight ball ricocheted off one side and rolled relentlessly into the opposite pocket.
“I’ll be damned,” he breathed. “You’re a little better than you let on.”
She looked at him sheepishly. “Sorry.”
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “You lied.”
“No, I took an advantage.” Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. “You shouldn’t have gone easy on me.”
He couldn’t suppress a grin. “Tell me about it. And though you kicked my ass, I had fun watching you do it. Now it’s revenge time. Again?”
Her gaze, alight with joy, found his. “Absolutely.”
They played two more games. He won the next, and the last was a hard-fought battle that she managed to pull off.
They sat down to finish their drinks.
“How’d you get so good at pool?” Dylan asked.
She stroked the stem of her glass. “We have a pool table.”
“I forgot.” Now he remembered playing there a few times in high school.
“And brothers.” She lifted her drink for a sip. “Though it’s probably George’s fault.”
“George?”
“He’s the bartender at the Arch and Vine. He and Dad have been friends for years and he’s quite the pool hound. Played in a league for a long time until his back started bothering him too much.”
A dark-haired woman in her thirties tentatively approached their table. “Excuse me, aren’t you Sara Archer?” She shot an apologetic glance at Dylan before fixing her attention on Sara. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I wanted to ask what’s going on with the old monastery. I heard your family is renovating it into a hotel or something? Anyway, I hope I’m not being nosy, but I wanted to ask when it’s going to open.”
“Not for another year at least,” Dylan said, eyeing Sara who seemed a little nervous. “How did you know she was Sara Archer?”
The woman blushed a pale pink. “I used to watch the show, and, well, the Archers are local celebrities, right? Anyway, a friend of a friend used Sara for a baby shower a year or so ago and raved about her.” She looked at Sara. “I was wondering if you planned to do events at the monastery. It’s such a pretty location.”
Sara perked up. “Who’s your friend of a friend?”
The woman moved closer to the table, her face lighting up. “Shelby Clark. I’m Jemma Rodriguez.”
“Hi, Jemma, nice to meet you.” Sara offered her hand and Jemma took it. “We will be offering events at the new facility. I’m not quite at liberty to say much right now, but if you give me your number, I’ll be in touch when I can disclose more.”
Jemma smiled broadly then dug into her purse. “Here’s my card. I’m so happy I saw you sitting here and that I had the nerve to talk to you.”
Sara blushed slightly. “I’m glad you did, too, thanks.”
“I’ll talk to you soon!” Jemma gave a little wave and walked away.
Sara turned and tucked the card into her purse hanging from the back of her chair.
“Does that happen often?” Dylan asked. “People recognizing you from the TV show?”
“It used to, not so much anymore.”
“How was doing the show? Surreal?” Shoot, just because he would’ve found it odd didn’t mean she did.
She rolled her eyes, pulling a grin from him. “God, yes. I was pretty uncomfortable. Not filming the show, but with the attention that came from it. We basically had no secrets, and that’s hard as an adolescent girl.”
He could well imagine how difficult it must have been, particularly for her. “How’d you guys end up on TV?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but it had something to do with an old friend of my parents. He thought our family was inspi
ring or something.”
Dylan polished off his beer. He could go for another, but knew she’d hit her two-drink limit.
“I suppose we should go?” Her gaze connected with his in silent question. He couldn’t tell if it was an invitation or an innocent query, like, “I’m up for more if you are.” His body most definitely was, but no way was he tapping that again. Two nights could easily turn into three, and then things weren’t simple anymore. Dylan preferred—no, he needed—simple, particularly given their work relationship.
“Tonight’s Vegas Rules can’t be like last time,” he said.
She nodded sharply. “Of course not.” She pulled her purse from the back of her chair and withdrew her wallet.
He waved at her to put it back. “I got this, remember?”
“I still have to pay for the first round from earlier.”
“Actually, you don’t. I got that too.”
She pursed her lips. “You shouldn’t have.”
“If I’d known what an independent-minded woman you are, I never would’ve done it. You can buy next time—and I’ll order a giant, expensive steak.”
She laughed as she stood up from the table.
He jumped to his feet, grinning. The evening had been fun, casual—even with the undercurrent of attraction simmering between them. Shit, he’d just implied they should do it again. He wasn’t sure he could endure another evening like this with her, knowing it was going to end with them apart. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
She preceded him and he struggled to keep his hand from touching her lower back. Outside, she walked toward her car, parked just a few spaces from his truck in the lot. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed it when he’d arrived. She unlocked it with her remote and then turned to face him, her backside grazing her driver door. “Did you change your mind about meeting Hayden and Cameron?”
He wasn’t in the mood to hook up with a stranger. Problem was, after spending time with Sara, he wanted to hook up. With her. Which he could not do. Damn, he needed to sever this attraction once and for all. Maybe he should meet them. “Yeah, I think I will.”
“Oh.” Hell, she sounded disappointed. “Tell my brother to behave.”
“No sage advice for me?” He really needed to stop flirting with her. Like now.
“Something tells me you don’t know how to behave.”
“If you only knew how well I was behaving right now, you’d give me a medal.” He stepped back before he succumbed to impulse and brushed his thumb over her lips and tasted her mouth. “But like you said, no fraternizing. See you, Sara.”
Her blue eyes were dark and intense in the lamplight bathing them. “See you.”
She turned and opened the door. With a final, heated glance she got into her car and started the engine. He didn’t move until she pulled out of the spot and drove away.
Chapter Eight
AFTER SPENDING SATURDAY night and Sunday at her condo, Sara pulled into the dusty lot at the monastery for Monday morning’s meeting. She was early on purpose so she could enjoy a few minutes of solitude. Alex had chosen such a beautiful place—she could almost feel his presence.
However, her plan was foiled as Tori drove in and parked beside her. “Hey,” she said, climbing out of the gold Prius their parents kept for when their children visited from out of town. “Where were you yesterday?”
“At home—Mom knew where I was.”
“Alone?” Tori’s question dripped with insinuation. “Or did you take Dylan back to your place?” Her accompanying wink said she was kidding, but Sara nearly choked considering she’d actually done that not too long ago.
“Yep, that’s me. Picking guys up in bars and taking them home.” She fought the urge to giggle. Tori would be shocked, and it was almost worth spilling the beans in order to see her reaction.
Except Sara hadn’t taken him home. He’d gone out with his brother and Hayden and probably gone home with someone else. She’d moped about it all day yesterday. Even yoga hadn’t been able to keep her mind off wondering what might’ve happened if they hadn’t agreed to keep things professional.
It was a silly fantasy. They had to keep things professional.
“When’s the last time you went on a date, Sara?”
Tori’s question drew her attention back to the present.
“What?”
“You know, a date? With a guy? Something romantic?”
“It’s been a while. I’ve been focused on my business.”
Tori started toward the trailer. “How’s it going without you there?”
Sara walked beside her, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “All right. I miss being there, but I’m actually more into this project than I thought I would be.”
“Really?” Tori smiled. “That’s cool. I admit, it’s different designing something so personal. I’m enjoying it, too.” She paused just outside the trailer. “And hey, I get how hard it is to walk away from your life even if it’s only a car drive away.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” Sara did miss her cute condo, but she had missed things about Ribbon Ridge—the small-town businesses, the country feel, her family. “How are things in San Francisco? It seems a crime for your condo to sit empty.” Though her place was small, Tori had a prime piece of real estate.
“It’s okay.” Tori unlocked the door to the trailer as Hayden drove into the parking lot. He met them inside.
Six or seven years old, with slightly outdated décor, the office sported two desks, one small that was essentially for Dylan, and one large that Tori had commandeered for the most part, a kitchenette, a couch, and a sorry excuse for a bathroom.
Hayden set his case down on the couch and turned to Sara. “How was pool the other night, sis? I bet you creamed Dylan.”
“Naturally. But didn’t he tell you?”
“I haven’t talked to him.”
Dylan hadn’t met up with them Saturday night? Warmth spread through her, but she reminded herself he still could’ve gone out. Maybe he’d tried to find them and failed. Why was she obsessing about this? Dylan Westcott was her employee, not her boyfriend.
The sound of wheels on gravel heralded the arrival of someone else. Sara gravitated toward the window and saw that it was Derek. He hurried over to the trailer and came inside. “Morning. Where’s the coffee?”
Tori’s mouth dropped open briefly. “Crap, I forgot to set the timer on the pot. I’ll get it going.”
“Addict,” Hayden said.
Sara faced her siblings. “Before Dylan gets here, I wanted to run something by you guys. I was thinking about what to name the hotel and since it was Alex’s vision . . . what do you think of calling it The Alex?”
Tori looked up from the coffee pot and blinked at Sara. Then her lips curved into a smile. “It’s perfect.”
“Yeah, it is,” Derek said.
“Nice one, sis.” Hayden patted her on the shoulder.
Sara basked in their approval for a moment—she didn’t remember the last time she’d felt like that with them. Maybe never. “I wanted to call the wedding venue something separate—Ridgeview at The Alex.”
“Also perfect,” Derek said. “You’ve got a real knack for this. Maybe you should take over naming the beers.”
Tori sucked in a breath and went back to making the coffee.
Hayden went to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “Hey, don’t be sad. Life has to go on.”
“I know, but sometimes it’s just . . . hard.”
Hayden wrapped her into a tight hug. “It’s okay. We’re all doing the best we can.” He pulled away, his eyes alight. “As long as we’re naming things, let’s call the restaurant The Arch and Fox.” Every Archer kid had an animal associated with them. It stemmed from Christmas ornaments Mom had given them over the years. Sara’s was a kitten and Alex’s had been a fox.
Derek nodded. “And we’re on a roll.”
The sound of another vehicle drew Sara to look out the window again, but it had to be Dy
lan. They weren’t expecting anyone else. He got out of his truck and strode toward the trailer, the light breeze stirring his dark brown hair. He looked like a superhero’s alter ego whose sculpted body was covered in nondescript clothing. As if his magnificence could be cloaked.
He came into the trailer and glanced around. “Am I late?”
“Nope, right on time,” Tori said.
“Good. I was sure you’d said eight thirty.” He flicked a glance at Sara. Was there heat in his gaze or was that her imagination? She tugged the sleeve of her jacket up over her hand and worked the edges.
“We were just naming the hotel,” Derek said. He went on to tell Dylan what they’d discussed, then the meeting started in earnest as they reviewed the schedule.
They’d all taken seats around the trailer. Dylan sat behind the small desk that had been designated as his. “We’re set to start demo on Wednesday. Any of you going to help out?”
Tori shook her head. “You have fun with that. I have to fly back to San Francisco to deal with some work issues for a few days. Leaving this afternoon. So sorry.” Her crooked smile was anything but apologetic. “In fact, I should get going. I still need to pack.”
“Convenient,” Hayden said as she gathered her bag and went to the door. Tori waved a hand at him that might’ve had an extended middle finger as she left the trailer.
Dylan looked to Hayden. “Does that mean you’ll be here?”
Hayden winced. “Actually, Derek and I have a meeting at Archer, but I’ll try to stop by at some point.”
Sitting next to Hayden on the sofa, Sara smacked him on the arm. “Also convenient.” She turned to Dylan. “Can I help?”
Dylan cocked his head to the side. “I’m sure we can find something for you to do.”
