by Jami Alden
Sadie gave him an almost imperceptible shake of her head. He took that to mean dessert wouldn't be any improvement over dinner.
"None for me. I'm stuffed," he said and pushed back from the table. "I'm going to go finish unpacking."
"Thanks June, I'm good too." Sadie said and stood as well. "I need to get the mares their dinner."
He followed her silently from the house, and instead of going left toward his cabin he hooked a right and followed her into the barn.
It was dark and cool inside and smelled of horses and fresh hay. Half a dozen mares hung their heads over the doors of their stall, whickering as Sadie started to pull a bale of hay off a stack in the corner.
"Let me help," he said and went to take it from her.
"I've got it," she said and swung the heavy cube away from him. She reached in her back pocket, pulled out a small folding knife and used it to cut the twine. "Despite the fact I'll never be running this place, I'm capable of throwing the horses a little hay."
She pulled a couple flakes from the bale and tossed them over the door of the first stall.
"Sorry if I brought up a sore subject."
"It's not like it's anything I haven't heard. It's no secret Dad always wished I'd been a boy."
It was the first he'd ever heard of it, surprising given they'd spent plenty of time together growing up. Then again, he realized with a pinch of shame, he hadn't spent a whole lot of time asking Sadie about herself. He'd mostly just wanted her help getting his math and science homework finished as quickly as possible.
He reminded himself that most teenage boys were as selfish and clueless as he'd been, but that didn't stop the little ache in his chest at the thought of Sadie growing up knowing that in her father's eyes she somehow fell short.
He watched as she finished distributing the hay and paused next to one of the mares, a pretty little bay with a white star on her forehead. She snuffled and stuck her muzzle in Sadie's cupped palm.
"Would you want to run this place?" he said and moved next to her. His palm itched to run down the pale length of her arm to see if her skin was as silky smooth as it looked. He reached out and patted the mare's warm neck instead.
She shrugged. "Not really. My interests have always lain elsewhere. But it would be nice to be worthy of consideration. Not have the decision made for me." She gave her head a little shake. "It's just so weird being back here. It brings up all these things I thought I got over a long time ago. And at the same time, I feel like such a different person, with such a different life, it's almost like visiting another planet."
"I know what you mean," he said. “It's nice being back, seeing my family and all, but compared to how I've been living all these years, it's all just so... normal."
She turned to him with a little smile. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
He shrugged. "Not bad. Just not something I think I could ever get used to."
"It might take some time, but I'm sure you'd make the adjustment."
Just the thought of having to make such an adjustment sent a shock of fear through him. "How can I be normal when—" he started and snapped his lips closed.
She gave him a long, probing look. "When what?"
When I can't escape the nightmares and the questions about whether anything we do out there is worth it. When I feel like if I don't get back out there soon, I'm going to lose my fucking mind?
His chest got tight, his stomach twisted with the irrational thought that she was somehow seeing all the dark and twisty going on underneath his skull.
He took a step back and forced a smile. "Nothing. I better get going," he said and looked pointedly at his watch. "I told JT I'd meet him and some other people at the Last Chance."
The blatant lie came easily to his lips. Whatever guilt over that or the disappointment that flashed in her eyes was overpowered by the sudden compulsion to get away from her before he did something stupid.
Like give into the urge to lean down and kiss those soft, parted lips. Like fall under the spell of those dark, knowing eyes that beckoned him to share too much.
Chapter 5
Sadie watched Dylan's taillights disappear through her office window. She ignored the pit in her stomach, calling herself all kinds of stupid for feeling a little stab of hurt that he hadn't invited her to join him at the Last Chance bar.
So he didn't want her to crash his man-date with JT. So what? It wasn't like she and Dylan were particularly close. It wasn't like when she invited him to move out to the ranch, she expected he would become her new bestie.
Even when back in high school, when they'd spent a couple afternoons a week together either here or at the school library, they'd been what she would describe as friendly, not really friends.
When Dylan went out, it was with a decidedly different crowd, populated by his football and basketball teammates and the cheerleaders who pranced around school in their tight sweaters and skirts just barely covering their asses. They might have ended up at some of the same parties, but that was never any of Dylan's doing.
The only time he sought her out was when he needed something from her. In high school it had been help with homework. Now it was a place to live.
Once again, Dylan needed something from her, and she was only too happy to provide it.
She gave herself a mental smack at the thought that painted her as a sap and him as a user.
Admit it. The only reason you're feeling so sour over this is that you were hoping there were some other needs Dylan would want you to serve.
She hated to admit it, even to herself. She'd had some silly fantasy that Dylan would take a look at her grown up self and deem her worthy of the same attention he seemed to have no trouble bestowing on nearly every other single woman between the ages of twenty-two and thirty-five who passed through his orbit. And when he'd taken her up on her offer to rent the cabin, she couldn't deny a little thrill of hope that proximity might push him over the edge.
But so far if it had occurred to him that she was mere yards away every single night, he hadn't given any indication.
She tore her thoughts away from Dylan and JT and the women they were no doubt charming the pants off right this very minute and forced herself to focus on the hours of work that lay ahead of her before she could go to bed tonight.
She heard Dylan's truck pull up sometime after eleven. She continued working until after one. When she turned out the light in the office, she noticed the lights in the cabin were blazing and wondered what he was still doing up.
None of her business, she told herself firmly and trudged upstairs.
She didn't see much of Dylan for the next several days. He'd leave a little after eight, and return after five. Some days he stayed out until well past dinner time, other days his truck pulled in at the end of the workday and he closed himself in his cabin for the night.
June continued to invite him to supper—which he wisely refused, and finally Sadie told her to let up, it was obvious he wanted his space.
Fortunately between working to get Mary's app ready to go live (she'd loved the prototype so much, she wanted to move up the release by two weeks), and all of the slack she had to pick up around the ranch, Sadie didn't have time to concern herself with Dylan's comings and goings.
Not much anyway. Though she couldn't decide which bothered her more; the nights he stayed out, leaving her to speculate on what he was doing and who he was doing it with?
Or the nights he spent holed up in his tiny cabin, so close by, so clearly wanting nothing to do with her.
###
"You look like shit!" Molly said and slid a vodka and tonic in front of her.
"Why, thank you, dear friend," Sadie said, sighing in pleasure at the first sip. Molly had been trying to get her out all week, and now that she'd sent her app out to be QA'd she figured she deserved to take Molly up on her invitation to join her at the Last Chance.
"Seriously, have you been sleeping, like, at all?" Despite Molly’s bluntness, Sa
die could see the sincere concern in her friend’s eyes. And it wasn't like it wasn't true. After several days in a row hitting the pillow well after midnight and getting up when her alarm went off at six, she was pale and bleary eyed.
Not for the first time she wondered if she should have stayed home and just gone to bed.
"Obviously my efforts with the concealer didn't pay off," she said wryly.
Molly waved a hand. "Of course, you look beautiful. You always look beautiful. But I can tell you've been working too hard." She paused took and took a sip of her drink, cocking an eyebrow. "Or maybe it's your new tenant who's keeping you up nights," she said with an exaggerated waggle of her eyebrows.
Sadie laughed softly and shook her head. "No such luck."
Molly gave a little pout. "Too bad. I was hoping at least one of us was getting laid. Josh has been working so much lately I've practically forgotten what it feels like. But he promised he'd meet me here later tonight, so hopefully..."
Sadie bit back her own theory about what was keeping Molly's fiancé from her bedroom, and it wasn't work. But she knew better than to voice her suspicions about Josh and why he was still dragging his feet after all these years. The last time she'd questioned their engagement it had been like a brick wall had dropped between her and Molly, the only time in the course of their friendship that she hadn't felt like she could be completely honest with her best friend.
She sighed took another sip of her drink, savoring the cold, bitter bite of the vodka and the warmth it spread through her belly. She loved Molly like a sister, but Molly had her issues that made her cling to Josh like a barnacle. And no one was going to be able to solve them for her.
"I know you've been busy, but I'm glad you came out tonight," Molly said and clinked her glass with Sadie's. "I missed you this week."
"I missed you too. And Brady's food," she said with a grimace.
"What did she make tonight?"
"Pork chops."
"That doesn't sound too bad."
"Imagine a perfect, beautiful pork chop, cooked until it has the texture and taste of shoe leather."
Molly wrinkled her nose in sympathy.
"Then imagine it served next to a pile of carrots that were steamed to the consistency of baby food."
"No wonder you look like you've lost weight. Maybe I should come eat June's cooking for the next month," Molly said with a mock frown.
"You don't need to lose weight," Sadie said, barely managing to suppress an eye roll. It had been like this ever since puberty hit them in the seventh grade. In Sadie's case, all it had meant was another six inches of height on her already tall for a thirteen-year-old frame.
For Molly it had meant a set of curves that would have done a playboy centerfold proud. And while she was, to Sadie's eye, not in the least bit overweight, she'd always lamented that, unlike Sadie, she didn't even come close to resembling the models in the fashion magazines they'd spent hours perusing.
"I just need to lose, like ten pounds to fit into that dress we found down in Billings." She took a sip of her vodka and soda. "But I swear, working around Brady, it's impossible. Just today he made these amazing shortribs."
Sadie closed her eyes and moaned at the imagined taste. "You know you're torturing me, right?"
"He served them over a sweet potato purée," Molly said, lowering her voice to sound like a phone sex operator. "And roasted asparagus on the side."
"Slow down," Sadie said with a mock gasp. "No, don't stop. Give me more."
"For dessert he made plum tart with homemade vanilla bean ice cream."
Sadie thumped the table and did her best Meg Ryan in the deli scene imitation as Molly laughed.
"Uh, are we interrupting a personal moment?"
Sadie froze, horrified as she recognized Dylan's voice. She felt her cheeks flame as she looked up and saw him standing with Brady next to their table, both men grinning at their obvious embarrassment.
They each pulled up a chair and plopped down. "I have to know what all that was about," Dylan said.
Sadie's vocal chords were frozen. Molly opened her mouth, but only got out a little croaking sound before she dissolved in a fit of laughter. Sadie cracked up too, laughing until tears streamed down her cheeks and she struggled to breathe.
Finally she calmed down enough to speak. She turned to Brady, whose eyes were shimmering with humor. With his grey eyes, dark hair, and chiseled face and body, he was every bit as delectable as the man sitting beside him.
But for whatever reason, he didn't make her go all awkward and tongue tied like Dylan did. "Actually," she said and drained the last of her gin and tonic, "we were talking about you."
"Me?" Brady said, looking delighted.
"Brady?" Dylan said, sounding irritated.
"Your food," Molly clarified.
"Molly was giving me today's menu highlights. I've been feeling sorely deprived living on June's cooking," Sadie explained. "I don't know if Dylan told you but ever since Dad's had to go on his low fat, low salt, low taste diet it's been pretty bad."
"We're talking worse than the shit on the shingle they used to serve in the mess hall," Dylan added.
Brady grimaced sympathetically and turned his speculative gaze on Molly. "It makes me happy to know I've been giving you such pleasure," he lingered on that last word, his grin spreading at the way Molly blushed.
"Well, since neither of us are getting laid," Sadie piped up, her tongue loosened by vodka and fatigue, "we have to get our jollies where we can."
She felt a sharp pain on her right shin and met Molly's glare with an apologetic look.
Brady opened his mouth but before he could speak, Sadie grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out to the dance floor. For a big guy he was good on his feet, expertly spinning her around the dance floor until she was out of breath and slightly lightheaded.
"You just let me know whenever you want me to help you take care of that dry spell," Brady yelled to be heard over the music.
Sadie grinned and called back, "Thanks for the offer but from what I've seen your dance card is filled up into the next decade."
"Say the word and I'll bump you right to the front of the line."
She laughed and felt herself relax for the first time in over a week. Though there was nothing behind it, it felt good to laugh and flirt with a guy, especially one as hot as Brady.
The first song ended and shifted into a slow ballad. Sadie looked up and saw that Brady had moved them across the dance floor until they were right next to Dylan and Molly.
She tilted her chin and caught the calculating look in his eyes as they lit on the back of her friend's head. "Whatever you're thinking, I'd advise against it."
He gave her a wink. "You know I love to fuck with her."
Sadie wasn't sure exactly what was going on between those two. But for Brady's part, she was pretty sure removing the "with" from his statement would make it more truthful.
He tapped Dylan on the shoulder, ignoring Molly's protests as he pulled her tight against his chest.
The butterflies kicked into overdrive as Dylan did the same to her. "You sure you want to do this? Last time we danced I nearly crippled you," she said, her tone light even as she inwardly cringed at the memory of how that night her suddenly awkward legs tangled with his and sent them crashing to the floor.
"I just need to remember to keep a firmer lead," he said, and she thought her heart was going to explode out of her ribs when he pulled her even closer. Close enough that her breasts pressed against the front of his shirt, that she could feel the muscles of his thighs bunching against hers with every step.
She kept her gaze squarely on the pearl snap button as she concentrated on the rhythm of the two step, praying he didn't feel the way her nipples had gone tight inside her bra. Jesus, she'd already admitted how hard up she was. He didn't need it spelled out that she was hard up for him.
###
This was why he'd stayed away, Dylan thought as the feel of Sadie's body pr
essed against him sent heat sizzling through him. It hadn't taken more than a friendly hug and that one disastrous dance for him to know that he enjoyed touching Sadie entirely too much.
Then there was that night in the barn, when he'd been nearly overcome by the urge to kiss her, along with that weird feeling in his gut that he could tell her anything, and he'd known he needed to stay away, for his own good as well as hers.
He should get away from her now, he knew. But he couldn't seem to tear himself away. It's just a dance, he told himself. Why not enjoy the feel of her moving against him, the fresh, flowery smell of her blocking out the aromas of spilled beer and crushed peanuts that permeated the bar.
His hand slid down her slender back, pressing her closer. His lids drifted lower at soft weight of her tits pressing against his chest.
Oh, Christ, her nipples were hard. He felt an answering hardness strain against his fly.
Talk about being hard up, he thought with a little smile. If Sadie was hard up, it couldn't be for lack of opportunity.
On the next step, her thigh brushed the inside of his and he felt himself grow another inch. He had to get his mind off of sex.
Even as he had the thought, he couldn't stop the question from popping from his mouth. "So how long has it been?"
She stumbled in surprise. He caught her around the waist and steadied her, wishing he had a time machine to go back two minutes and stuff a sock in his mouth.
He wanted to blame the beer, but really he knew it was temporary stupidity caused by all the blood in his body heading south.
"That's kind of a personal question," she said with a choked little laugh.
"You're the one who brought it up."
She tilted her head back and gave him a wry smile. "Touché."
"So?" he didn't know it was so damn important, but his curiosity had him like a dog with a bone.
"Let's see, it's the middle of July," she said, and looked up at the ceiling like she was doing the math in her head. "That makes it about two and a half years, give or take a week."
