by Darcy Burke
She opened the door and the gurgle of the water rushing through the fountain in the middle of the circle greeted her. A soothing, familiar sound that took the edge of her frayed senses.
“Can I call you later?” he asked.
“Tomorrow.” She didn’t want to talk to him anymore tonight—she knew her limits and she was just past them. She stepped out of the truck.
“Sara?”
She turned to look at him and wished she hadn’t. Maybe she was already in love with him. “What?”
“Whatever happens, I hope you know I care a great deal for you.”
His words should’ve warmed her, right? She ought to feel encouraged or at least calmer. But she didn’t. And maybe that was just the accumulation of everything that was currently heaped on her. “You’re right though, the timing sucks. I gotta go.” She slammed the door and ran up to the house without looking back.
Inside, she went through the foyer and up the short set of stairs to the central hall, dropped her purse and jacket, and jogged down to the gym. She’d been swinging for a good several minutes and was already feeling better when Tori and Kyle came in.
“Hey there,” Tori said, looking around. “No Dylan?”
“He just dropped me off.” Sara twirled around in the swing.
Kyle dropped down onto a weight bench. “You want to talk about it?”
“Dylan?” She’d told Dylan what she planned to say, but now she considered his tactic. But no, that wasn’t her. “What do you want to know? Am I seeing him? Not formally, but yes, we have a thing.”
Tori crossed her arms as a smile tilted across her lips. “You lied to me about seeing someone.”
Sara dragged her feet to slow the swing. “We’d agreed to keep it secret. It seemed best with everything going on, especially the job.”
“Are you happy?” Kyle asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“I was. Am.” Sara gripped the heavy rope cord that held the swing and ran her hands up and down over the ridges. “I like Dylan a lot.” Too much.
Tori’s smile slipped away. “This makes things a bit awkward for the project.”
Regardless of what happened, Sara didn’t want Dylan to suffer. “It shouldn’t. He’s a great contractor. In fact, I think we should go ahead and hire him for phases two and three.”
“I don’t know if that’s wise,” Tori said, “now more than ever.”
Sara swung herself around again. “I hope it’s not because of our relationship. He’s the right guy for this. He’s already demonstrated he’s capable, and it just makes good business sense to go with the guy who’s been involved since day one. Plus, he put together a fantastic proposal for the underground pub.”
Kyle glanced over at Tori. “She makes a valid argument.” He pinned Sara with a serious stare. “But is it going to be a problem if you guys don’t work out? What then?”
Sara couldn’t answer that. It was already starting to crumble, but she wasn’t really letting herself register it. Not today. She had to limit what she let inside or she’d have a total meltdown—or more of one than she’d already had at the restaurant. “Please don’t factor my personal feelings into a business decision. I’ll handle whatever happens with Dylan. I still think he’s the right contractor.”
Tori dropped her arms to her sides and moved closer to Sara. “I have to ask, sorry, but are you being objective here? If you have feelings for the guy, how can you know he’s the best choice?”
Sara used her feet to bring the swing to a complete stop. Her initial reaction was to snipe at Tori for being unfair, but Sara had learned to measure her responses when she was spun up. She inhaled and fed oxygen to her brain in the hope that she could develop a regulated answer. “I understand why you’d question me, but please don’t. I’m being perfectly objective. And I’ll manage the situation, okay? Don’t be overprotective.” She gave both of them stern looks.
They exchanged glances, and that was enough for Sara to be done with this conversation. Needing to be alone, she stood up from the swing. “Thanks for your votes of confidence in my abilities. You both suck.”
She strode from the gym and climbed the two flights of stairs, stopping on the main floor to grab her purse and jacket. Her bedroom was at the end of the house, directly above her parents’ suite. Sara’s bedroom was one of the largest because it housed sensory equipment in a long, somewhat narrow adjoining chamber that ran beneath the front eaves. She flopped down on a pile of pillows and pulled one of her weighted blankets over herself.
She knew in her heart that Tori and Kyle were just trying to look out for her, but she was also tired of being babied. Even Dylan had rushed to help her tonight and maybe only because he’d registered that she was in meltdown mode. She had no way of knowing if he’d been prompted by something more.
Normally she would talk to Mom, but she was en route to France, unavailable. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe it was time for Sara to work through this—really manage things—on her own. She’d thought moving away would give her independence and self-reliance, but maybe this was what it really meant.
The weight of the blanket pressed into her chest and legs, grounding her. She had no idea what was going to happen with Dylan, but she resolved to deal with it head on.
Chapter Twenty
AFTER SPENDING SUNDAY dodging his mom’s calls and texts, sending several unanswered texts to Sara, and ultimately spending the afternoon at the job site, Dylan was eager to get back to his weekday routine. He appreciated the nondrama of his crew and the steady progress of working toward their daily goals.
This morning he was more than content to be framing a large pantry in the kitchen of the cottage. However, Sara was hovering at the forefront of his mind. He’d hated how things had gone on Saturday. And since she wasn’t returning his texts, he had to conclude he’d absolutely fucked everything up.
He’d meant what he said, that what they shared had progressed past “benefits.” He liked her. A lot. Cared for her like he hadn’t cared for anyone in a long time. But he also meant what he’d said about the timing being bad. For both of them. Her life was incredibly convoluted right now, and he only added another layer of difficulty. And if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted that added complexity either. Honestly, her family scared the hell out of him. He didn’t do families. His mom had one thing right—he was a loner and he preferred it that way. He didn’t disappoint anyone, and no one disappointed him.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He slipped his hammer into his belt and withdrew his phone. A shaft of disappointment shot through him when he saw it was Kyle and not Sara.
KYLE: Can you come up to the office for a quick meeting with me and Tori?
Now what? Were they going to fire him outright for his dickish behavior? No, he doubted Sara had told them about that. He just didn’t see her throwing him under the bus. He texted back, Be right there, and he left the cottage. With his and Sara’s secret outed, anxiety splintered through him. This was why he didn’t want a relationship. It overcomplicated everything.
A few minutes later he walked into the trailer. Tori was seated behind her desk while Kyle stood leaning against the counter of the tiny kitchenette behind her.
“What’s up?” Dylan asked. They looked circumspect, which only heightened his defensiveness. Was he about to fight for his job?
“We wanted to talk to you about the project,” Kyle said.
Apparently, yes. His stomach clenched. His worst fears were realized: that his inability to keep his hands to himself was about to cost him something very important.
Tori coughed as she clasped her hands together on the top of the desk. “It’s time for us to hire someone for the next phases.”
He assumed it wouldn’t be him, but since they were starting with that, maybe he’d at least get to finish the cottage. Wait, they wouldn’t really have fired him from the cottage would they? Dylan hated that his heart was speeding up.
“We’ve talked
at length—with Derek and Hayden too,” Kyle said, pushing away from the counter and dropping his hands to his sides, “and we’ve decided to hire you.”
Dylan’s jaw dropped but he quickly snapped it shut. Nice one, Westcott. “Wow, that’s great. Thanks.”
Tori’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You seem surprised.”
Was there any point in trying to dodge the issue? “Well, yeah. I’m sure you can imagine why.”
Kyle stepped forward until he was standing next to his sister’s chair. They looked like a mob boss and her enforcer or something. “Sara. We’re concerned about that. We’d actually like to ask you to step back from her while you’re working on the project.”
“Don’t you think that’s her decision?” Hadn’t he just been thinking that long-term relationships weren’t his thing? Now he was being asked to break things off. But not by the person who mattered. The whole thing tasted bad. “What’s between me and Sara is just that—between me and Sara.”
Tori stood up. “We get how this looks and we sort of feel like a-holes asking, but you don’t know Sara like we do. This has been a really tough time for our family, and with Mom gone,” she exchanged glances with Kyle who nodded slightly, “it’s just a crappy situation. Sara doesn’t always know when to step away. It’s sort of the nature of sensory processing disorder.”
A little of Dylan’s ire dissipated. He got that they cared about their sister, even appreciated them for it, but the whole conversation still felt weird. Maybe that was because it was a family-oriented discussion that required him to bare parts of himself or see parts of other people he preferred to ignore.
“We can’t control you or Sara—and we don’t want to,” Kyle said. “But we’d be seriously derelict in our sibling duties if we didn’t look out for her.”
Dylan wondered what she’d think of that. She’d told him one of the reasons she’d left Ribbon Ridge was to establish her own sense of self, to prove that she could manage things independently. And she’d absolutely nailed it when she’d said her siblings would stick their noses in her business.
Tori nodded. “We love her more than anything, and we’ll do anything to protect her.”
Dylan got that. He might be the odd guy out in his families, but he loved his brothers and sister and he’d do anything for them too. “I hear what you’re saying, but you’re going to have to trust Sara to make the best choice for herself. Can you do that?”
They looked at each other. “We can,” Tori said. “But if you take this job and things turn ugly between you and her . . . you have to understand that we’ll do whatever is necessary to preserve our family’s well-being.” Tori blinked as if she were fighting back tears. “It’s the most important thing.”
Damn, it was so easy to forget they’d lost their brother, an integral part of their family and their lives, not even four months ago. “I understand.”
“This isn’t a threat.” Kyle’s blue-green eyes were piercing in their intensity. “It’s just a fact. So think long and hard about what’s important here, to all of us.”
Fuck. If he pursued a relationship with Sara and it tanked, the one thing he counted on for stability and fulfillment, his work, would be an utter disaster. Plus, he will have screwed up her life in the process, which was sufficiently complicated all on its own. Which only left one alternative—calling things off now.
“Thanks for the opportunity. I’ll think about what you said.” He nodded at them, then turned to go.
“We’ll talk later this week about specifics.” Tori’s voice had lost any semblance of the emotion she’d shown earlier. Back to business. “I need to select an engineer soon, and I’d like your input.”
Dylan looked back over his shoulder and summoned a smile he didn’t feel. “Sure.”
He left the trailer and started back toward the cottage. Of all the things weighing down his mind, one thing stood out: the ferocity with which the Archers loved and protected each other. Did he have that with his families? He hoped so, but because he kept them at arm’s length, he realized he’d never know.
SARA WOKE UP Monday morning feeling somewhat refreshed after spending Sunday doing yoga, watching her favorite movies, and painting her toenails. Kyle and Tori had—wisely—given her a wide berth.
Dad strolled into the kitchen and brushed a kiss against her forehead on his way to the fridge. He pulled out a bottled smoothie. “Just finished a nice ride. I was hoping to see you this morning,” he said, unscrewing the lid from his drink. “Have you decided what you’re going to do now that you’ve sold your business? I’m so proud of you for the way you handled that.”
“Thanks. I’ll be managing the wedding venue at The Alex and eventually all of the entertainment when the project is done. And I’ve actually been thinking of moving back to Ribbon Ridge.”
“Really?” Dad’s lips split in the most genuine smile she’d seen from him in months. “That’s great to hear, kitten.”
She turned on the bar stool and patted the one next to her. “What’s up?”
He came and sat, his eyes looking more alive than they’d been since before Alex had died. “I’m considering a new project—inspired by The Alex. I’ve found a property in central Oregon that I’d like to renovate. It’s actually an old farm. It’ll make a great multipurpose space—bed and breakfast, pub-slash-restaurant, and event venue. It’s a great location.”
Sara curled her hand around her cup. Was this because he wasn’t involved in this project? She felt a pang of irritation that Alex had left him out. “That’s a lot to take on.”
“Yes, but after nine brewpubs, I think I can handle it,” he said wryly.
That was true. He was a real estate developer by inheritance. The Archers had developed Ribbon Ridge, expanded their interests, and owned a great deal of commercial property that housed a variety of endeavors. But at his heart, Dad was a brewer. This sounded like some sort of midlife crisis, which he was absolutely entitled to right now, instead of a business venture.
“Why the sudden interest in this, Dad? Is it because of The Alex?”
He set his drink down and looked at the counter. “In part, I guess. With your mother gone, I just . . . I just need something to do.”
Sara’s heart ached for him. Though Mom was visibly the most upset about Alex, Sara wondered if Dad had taken his death the hardest. Sometimes she thought he maybe hadn’t faced it at all. “You can be involved at The Alex if that’s what you want.”
“It’s not what Alex wanted,” Dad said tightly. He braced his hands on the counter and stared out the windows overlooking the pool and yard below.
She touched his wrist. “Dad. I know this has been really hard for you. Tell me what I can do.”
When he turned his head to look at her, his eyes were surprisingly dry. Surprisingly? She had yet to see him cry since the day he’d found Alex. Oh, noooo. Why hadn’t she ever thought of that? Dad had been the one to find him in his bed that morning. The one who hadn’t been able to wake him. The one who’d tried, unsuccessfully, to revive him. “Do you ever want to talk about it?” She said softly, tentatively. “That day.”
He looked away from her again and shook his head. “No. That won’t help. It’s best if I don’t think about it too much.” He smiled weakly. “You’re probably right. I have plenty to keep me busy here, especially with Hayden gone.”
“You should let Kyle step in. There’s no reason not to.” She inwardly flinched waiting for his answer, knowing that Kyle was still a sore subject with him.
Dad’s expression turned weary. “There are reasons, but I won’t get into them.”
“I’ve made peace with Kyle. It’s time for you to do the same. Talk to him. I know he wants to make things right.”
“I appreciate that you’re trying to help.” His features softened. “I’ll give him a shot, okay?”
“I don’t think you’ll be sorry.” She hugged him tight. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too.” He pulled back and
looked at her. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
Sara watched him go and her phone vibrated on the counter. She reached over to pick it up and looked at the display.
TORI: Wanted you to know that Kyle and I went ahead and hired Dylan for phases two and three.
Sara stared at the phone. Had he said something? Done something? She couldn’t believe they’d offered him the job after the way they’d tried to meddle the other night.
She didn’t know what was going on, but suspected it involved overprotective siblings. Who she planned to punch in the throat.
DYLAN CUT OUT of work early Monday evening after getting a text from his dad asking him to stop by and take a look at his water heater. As the de facto family handyman, Dylan got these sorts of calls all the time. As much as he kept his family at arm’s length, he liked feeling needed. Particularly today when he was thinking—too much—about family and his place in it.
When he drove up to his dad’s house, he nearly kept going. Parked outside was a car he recognized and strove to avoid: his ex-wife’s.
He parked at the end of the driveway and turned off the engine. He sat there for a minute and then jolted to attention as Jessica came out of the house and started down the driveway toward his truck.
He climbed out of the cab and came around. She was dressed in her workout clothes but her hair and makeup were perfect, which meant she’d come from work. She always did her workouts in the morning, before she started her shift as a personal trainer.
“Hi, Dylan.” She chewed her lower lip, a telltale sign she was nervous.
“How are you, Jess? Long time, no see.”
“Just the way we like it, right?” She flashed a smile. “There’s no need to pretend, is there?”
They’d known each other too long and too well to fake anything. “What’re you doing here?”
“Dropping off a book from my mom for Angie. Book club.”
Angie went to book club with Monica too? Dylan shook his head. “Congratulations are in order, I hear. Who’s the lucky guy?”
