by Layla Hagen
“Am I about to be scolded?” I asked, closing the door behind me.
“Scolded?” Josie asked, elbowing Isabelle. “What did you do to the poor girl that she thinks we’re gonna scold her?”
“Nothing,” Isabelle replied, looking miffed. They were each sitting on a Pilates mat cross-legged.
“Dylan said you sort of warned him against asking me out,” I explained while rolling out a mat for myself.
“There was no ‘sort of’ about it. I straight up told him not to do it. I see it worked well,” Isabelle said with a laugh. “Dylan’s a good guy, I promise. He’s just been hurt.”
“And now he’s got a super thick defensive wall around him,” Josie added.
“But you did convince him to take a puppy home, so maybe he’s starting to mellow. I love him, by the way. We named him Loki.”
I looked between them, shaking my head. “I see this session is going to be even less productive than usual, huh?”
Isabelle stood ramrod straight. “No, no. Let’s show Josie that Pilates kicks ass.”
To my surprise, the girls did focus on the exercises. They didn’t talk at all, and I wondered if they could coordinate their schedules to train at the same time. Josie was a good influence on Isabelle.
While we did crunches, I mulled over Josie’s words. Could I get through Dylan’s defensive wall? I wanted to, but I was afraid to try. No, it was better to enjoy what we had. It was easier at any rate.
The three of us were pretty sweaty by the time we were done. Half my hair fell from my bun, so I pulled it back in a ponytail as we went to the front desk. Josie wanted to sign up for one-on-one trainings too, but she and Isabelle had vastly different schedules, so there was no way they could come together.
We headed straight to the reception desk. Shauna stepped aside from the computer so I could look at the schedule.
“Brother, what are you still doing here?” I heard Isabelle ask. I looked up to find Dylan between his sisters. He was clearly done with his workout, rocking a suit again, holding the jacket over his shoulder with two fingers. He was way too sexy.
“I just finished,” he replied.
Isabelle narrowed her eyes. “A likely tale. You were waiting for us, weren’t you?”
“Mel, I forgot to warn you earlier: don’t listen to them.”
“Why? They’re only saying good things,” I said with a wink.
He looked from Isabelle to Josie, then back to me. “Then, by all means, listen.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mel
On Friday evening, Dylan was picking me up at six from home. After my last session, I stopped by the shelter, and Charlotte and I had a bit too much fun playing around with the pups. As was typical, I arrived home too late, so I threw on a black tank top and a short skirt that fit me like a glove. I put on gladiator-style sandals with golden straps and didn’t bother styling my hair. It was a humid evening, so it was pretty curly, and I knew better than to try to tame it. I called it my summer look. I glanced at myself in the huge mirror I’d glued to the bathroom door.
My phone pinged while I twirled once.
Charlotte: I want a picture.
Like a good friend, I took a selfie in the mirror and sent it to her. We’d done this since our NYU days: sending pics to one another before going out on a date. Charlotte had always been a rock in my life. When Dad got sick, she brought us home-cooked meals for months.
Charlotte: ROAR. Go knock that wall down.
I laughed, feeling a bit silly. I was looking forward to tonight so much. I’d told Charlotte about my conversation with Isabelle and Josie, and since then, she insisted on using the phrase “knock that wall down.” But I didn’t have such unrealistic expectations. I wanted to enjoy my time with Dylan while it lasted. And that was the key, to keep in mind that this was temporary, not forever—because Dylan didn’t do forever.
I took one last glance at myself in the mirror. I was happy with the results. I looked ready for a date.
As I slung my purse on my shoulder, my phone rang. It was probably Dylan, telling me he'd arrived.
It was Dad. Smiling, I answered. "Hey, Dad, how are you?"
"Darling, sorry to spring this on you, but I made a mess in the kitchen."
"Oh no! What happened?"
"I dropped a lot of the jars, and now I'm surrounded by pieces of glass. I'm even afraid to move because it might ruin the wheelchair tires."
"Oh no, no, no. Is Buddy around too? Can you keep him away from the glass?”
Dad’s German shepherd liked to butt his nose into anything.
“He’s in the yard, so he’s safe.”
“Let me think.” I paused a moment. “Well, just stay put, and I'm going to drop by and clean it up, okay? But I'm at home now, so it's going to take me about fifty minutes."
"I'm sorry. But my neighbors are on vacation, and I don't have the phone number of the couple who moved across the street."
"Don't worry, Dad. I'll be there as soon as possible. Okay?"
"Sure. I can keep myself occupied on YouTube." He sure could. Dad had embraced technology more and more over the past few years.
After hanging up, I called Dylan. I didn't want to cancel on him. Maybe we could meet up later in the city. He answered on the fourth ring.
"Hey, did you leave your office yet?" I asked.
"Yes. The GPS says I’ll be there in ten minutes."
"Can we meet later? Dad called me. I have to go over to his place. He's dropped some jars, and he can't move around until I clean it up."
"Is he hurt?" Dylan asked. The concern in his voice warmed my insides.
"No, no, he's not. But if he tries to maneuver the wheelchair out of the mess alone, he might make even more of a mess."
"I'll pick you up in a few minutes, and we can drive there."
I blinked rapidly, stunned. "You don't have to do that. I'll take the train. It's okay. We can catch up later."
"Mel, I'll pick you up. It sounds like you might need a hand there. I'll help you."
I had no idea what to say. I had not been expecting this at all. "Wow. Okay. If you're sure."
"Okay. I'll be there in ten."
"Thanks.”
I was still a bit in disbelief as I hung up. I couldn't believe he wanted to come with me. Who did that?
I walked outside a few minutes later, smiling when he stopped his BMW in front of me. He was at the wheel.
“You really didn’t have to do this,” I said as I opened the door.
“Get in the car, Mel.”
Biting my lip, I slid into the passenger seat, fearing this was our last date. I was sure Dylan didn’t want to deal with these types of interruptions and complications.
“Thanks. What were your plans for tonight?” I asked. He said he wanted to surprise me, and I was still wondering what he had in mind.
"I'm not telling you. We'll do it another time."
"Later this evening?" I asked hopefully.
He shook his head, focusing on the street. "No, it has to be at a specific time. Can you punch your dad's address into the GPS?"
"Sure." While I did it, I mulled over his words. He must've had some restaurant reservations, even though it was a bit early.
Then it hit me.
I pressed enter on the address, looking at Dylan out of the corner of my eye.
"Does this plan of yours have anything to do with a sunset?" I asked.
He grinned. "It's difficult to surprise you. Anyone told you that before?"
Well, no one tried before, I thought.
I smiled, looking out the window.
"What's that? I can see you smiling," he said.
I shrugged. "Nothing. I'm feeling terrific about myself. That my sunset thingy is captivating.”
"You are captivating, Mel."
“Is that so?” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, seeing him in a different light. Dylan was focused and hardworking, and I felt like he could do with a time-out now and
then. “I have a list of things I want to explore in New York.”
“Why? You’ve lived here since college, right?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t get to explore very much. I was broke in college, so I only did things that were free or super cheap. Once I started working, I was always like ‘Oh, I’ll see this another time. I live here, after all.’ And after my accident, I suddenly wanted to see and experience everything. Want me to share my list with you?”
“Sure. But only if you’re my guide.”
I grinned. “Hell yes.”
I took out my phone, pulling up the list. We discussed it all the way to my dad’s house, which was in a quiet suburb way out of the city.
“Did your dad move here after his stroke?” Dylan asked.
“No, it’s the house he bought when he moved to New York. It’s much smaller than the house I grew up in, with only one bedroom, but it has a small yard. I made it wheelchair accessible after his stroke. We were lucky it was all on one level, but there were still a few steps to replace with a ramp at the entrance, and we had to redo the bathroom completely.”
“That’s a lot of work.”
“It is. On the bright side, I know so much about renovations now that I could flip houses as a side hustle.”
“Wait, you did it yourself?”
“Most of it, yeah. It was too expensive to hire contractors for everything.”
Dylan looked at me intently without saying anything.
I fidgeted in my seat. What is he thinking?
A few minutes later, we arrived at Dad’s house. I loved his place. It was cozy, and the small yard in the back was shielded from the neighbors' view by evergreen trees I planted myself.
Dad was in the kitchen, watching his phone. There was glass all around him.
"You're up to shenanigans again, Dad," I said, startling him a little. When he watched his videos, he was so absorbed he didn't hear anything else around him.
"Mel, you're here." He glanced at Dylan. "With a friend?"
"Yes, Dad. This is Dylan. He helped me get you that medicine. I told you about him, remember?"
"Thank you, Dylan. That was very kind of you."
"No problem, sir." He was looking at the splintered glass.
“Call me Martin.” After a few seconds, he added, “Sorry about this, kids. I’m not even sure how it happened. I tried to set the jars on the counter. After I knocked down the first, the rest fell like dominos. I’m usually not this clumsy, right, Mel, honey? Tell him your dad is not an old fart.”
"Dad, don’t worry about anything. And no, you’re not a klutz.” Winking at him, I glanced at Dylan and continued. “I'm going to get some cleaning supplies. The most important part is to take the glass away."
Dylan nodded.
I went into the small cupboard where Dad kept all the cleaning supplies and brought a broom. When I returned to the kitchen, I noticed Dylan had already picked up some of the bigger pieces of glass and thrown them in the trash. He’d rolled up his sleeves, revealing those mouthwatering forearms. He caught me checking him out and winked at me.
Grinning, I cleaned the rest of the shards and then brought the mop, washing the stickiness off the floor as well as the countertop. I also cleaned the wheelchair because the wheels smelled like pickles.
“Did you try to rearrange the cabinets again?” I asked Dad. He did that from time to time.
“Yes,” he replied guiltily. “I took them all out and put them on the counter, but I put them too close to the edge.”
The jars had been filled with pickles and jams, so it was all a bit stinky and sticky. I opened the door to the backyard to let in some fresh air. Dad’s dog, Buddy, came in.
“Oh, Dylan, can you keep him occupied so he doesn't cut himself if there are any little pieces of glass left? I want to vacuum up the rest."
"Sure. What’s his name?”
“Buddy,” Dad said.
I smiled, watching him stroke Buddy’s belly and pat him on the head. For someone who thought he wasn't an animal person, he sure had a way with dogs.
Once I was done cleaning up, I told Dad, "Okay, I think you can move freely now."
"Thanks. I was starving."
“I can heat your dinner," I offered. "What do you have?"
"Tuna steak."
“We could order in and have dinner together,” Dylan said.
Oh, wow. I didn’t expect this in a million years.
“That would be great,” Dad said. “Honey, the Chinese restaurant is our best bet. They deliver very quickly. I want the chicken with vegetables, without soy sauce. The menu is on the fridge.”
“I already know what I want. Dylan, take a look and tell me what sounds good.”
Glancing at the fridge, Dylan studied the menu. “I’ll take shrimp with vegetables.”
“Okay.”
I had their number saved in my phone, so I called them right away. They promised to deliver in twenty minutes. After hanging up, I heard Dad ask Dylan, "What is going on between you and my daughter?"
Oh crap. Dad wasn't used to me coming here with anyone. I couldn't even remember the last time I came here with a friend—forget about bringing anyone I dated. The last guy who’d been here was Elliot, and he’d thought Dad was a burden. The guys I’d gone out with after the breakup weren’t any better. One made it clear he didn’t want to get involved with someone who had such a huge responsibility. Whatever. The other one just stopped calling. Good riddance. If they thought my dad was a burden, I didn't need them in my life. He was a good man, and I liked taking care of him.
"Your daughter is my trainer at the gym. And I was going to take her out tonight."
"Where, if I may ask?"
Dylan grinned. I looked over my shoulder, trying to overhear. He caught me in the act.
"I could tell you, Martin, but she's listening, and it was meant to be a surprise."
Dad burst out laughing. Right at that moment, I realized I might lose a piece of my heart to Dylan because he made my dad laugh so wholeheartedly. I hadn't heard that sound in a long time. Dad was always a positive person, not grumpy or anything, but lately, I hadn't heard him laugh as much as before. After his stroke, he pulled it together and stayed strong and determined, but as the years had gone by, I almost felt as though his limitations were weighing on him.
The restaurant delivered on time, and the three of us sat around the small kitchen table, eating directly from the carton.
“This stuff is good,” Dylan said.
“It’s some of the best Chinese takeout I’ve had in New York,” Dad said.
“How long have you been living here?” Dylan asked.
“When my girl moved to New York for college, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, so I bought this house and moved here to be closer. I worked in construction, and it was easy to find a job. Now I’ve had to find something else, obviously.”
“Mel told me. As a transcriptionist.”
“Exactly. There are many companies that offer transcription services, and the pay is decent. The best part is I can do it from home and only need a computer to do it.”
Dylan glanced at me with a smile. “So Mel got her kick-ass attitude from you.”
“I’d say so,” Dad replied proudly.
I couldn’t really believe Dylan was here, with us, and he genuinely seemed interested in Dad’s life.
“Was your recovery long?” Dylan asked.
Dad grimaced. “Yes. My Mel had her plate full with me for about a year. I couldn’t move half my body at all in the beginning, but I had a lot of physical therapy, and Mel helped me with many exercises at home too. Now I can use both hands, but my left leg is still troubling me. I can move it enough to get up from the wheelchair and move into bed or take a few steps, but nothing more.”
Dylan asked a bit more about Dad’s recovery while we ate.
Once the cartons were empty, I asked, "Do you want me to steam some fish for you to eat tomorrow?"
"You don't have t
o do that," Dad called.
"It's only going to take me ten minutes, and then tomorrow all you have to do is heat it."
"Thanks, Mel."
I took the tuna out of the fridge, washing it a bit before putting it in the steamer. I thought Dad might throw the steamer out the window when I brought it home to him. His doctors had explained it would be good for him to add steamed vegetables and fish to his diet. I wasn't a fan of it. I felt it had zero taste, and even though it was a big fad in the fitness world to eat steamed everything, it wasn't my thing. And since I was Dad's daughter, he’d passed on his love of grilled ribs smeared with barbeque sauce to me, so I’d assumed he’d take one look at the steamer and toss it away or hide it in a cupboard. But, to my astonishment, Dad was using it regularly. I'd asked him about it one day, and he'd said he intended to be around for a long time, and if eating steamed fish was what it took, he would do it.
My gaze crossed Dylan’s as he played with Buddy while talking to Dad about the most recent basketball game, and I knew that keeping this sexy man from slipping into my heart wasn’t going to be easy.
Chapter Fifteen
Dylan
After cooking him dinner, she packed everything carefully in plastic containers, putting them in the fridge. Fucking hell, this woman was something else.
"You youngsters should go. I have an online meeting with my book club, where we’ll discuss the latest James Patterson," Martin said.
Mel smiled. "Okay. When it's about James Patterson, I’ve learned there's no distracting my dad. Come on, let's go. He takes his book club meetings very seriously."
I put an arm around her shoulders as we said our goodbyes and walked out of the house. They were stiff. I massaged her neck while we walked to the car. She dipped her head back, humming lightly.
"Oh, this is good. This is so, so good."
She pouted when I had to let go to open her door. “Hey, don’t stop.”
“I’ll carry on once we’re out of the car. That’s a promise.”
After she got inside, I moved to the other door, climbing in the driver seat.
"Your dad seems to have embraced technology a lot."
“He had to. To be honest, this was a bit of a blessing for Dad since leaving the house is a bit complicated for him. And he has a pretty active social life online. He's part of multiple clubs. He also plays cards and is even in a group that solves mysteries. Don't ask."
