“And now with the committee, and this project and everything, and us…working together,” she continued when it became obvious he wasn’t going to respond. “I’m not sure it would be a good idea for us to be…you know, involved.”
Involved was such a bland, expressionless way to describe what he’d been feeling, what he’d pictured in his mind happening between them. It wasn’t as though he’d thought very far into the future, about where a relationship might take them, but the chemistry between them had been so explosive, so volatile, he’d felt compelled to follow it.
But it was obvious now that he’d read her wrong, obvious that some remnant from the past, some spark of feeling from those summer nights so many years ago, had roared to life and was making him see things that simply were not there. A cold, dead feeling spread through him, but he steeled himself against it. After all, it wasn’t the first time.
He would do what he always did—squelch the disappointment, suppress his real feeling beneath a facade of good-natured humor. He would kid and tease—even make light of the very thing that hurt him the most. He knew just what to say, just what to do, and no one need ever know just how hard it really had been.
“Look, Marissa,” he said with a small laugh and a dismissing wave of the hand. “It’s no big deal. If you’re not interested, you’re not interested.”
“It’s just that I—”
“Hey,” he said, cutting her off. “No explanations necessary. Can’t blame a guy for trying though, right?” He turned, making a sweeping gesture with his hand, and walked with her to her car. “So how would you like to handle this with the program?” he asked, pulling the car door open for her. “Should we arrange a time to talk about it now, or would you rather give me a call?”
Marissa felt off-balance and a little confused. He’d taken her by surprise being so good-natured about everything. She’d just told him she didn’t believe they could be lovers, and he was already making jokes and moving on to business. He’d practically seduced her in the front seat of his patrol Jeep, yet now he stood there calmly talking about scheduling appointments and charting timetables as though it had meant nothing at all. Had offering to become her lover really meant that little?
Of course, she knew she should be grateful. He’d made it very easy for her. There had been no messy scene or unpleasant words, no awkwardness or embarrassment. But as unpleasant as all those things would have been, at least she would have felt it mattered to him. As it was, he had acted as if she’d just turned him down for a lunch date—not an affair. How many times did you have to enter and exit relationships with women for it to become that easy?
“Why don’t you take some time,” she said, slipping down on the seat behind the wheel and starting the car. She just wanted to get away and not think about working with him—or even seeing him again. “Study the proposal a little more, and give me a call next week. We’ll set something up then.”
Dylan watched as she pulled out of the parking lot, wondering when he was ever going to learn. He should have learned his lesson sixteen years ago—he and Marissa Wakefield just didn’t mix. He’d been foolish to think there could be something between them now. It was time he accepted there just wasn’t anything there.
He glanced down at the proposal in his hand, feeling a dull pounding in the back of his head. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
“You sound disappointed.”
“Don’t be silly,” Marissa snapped, shifting the telephone from one ear to the other. Her long Saturday morning telephone conversations with Mallory were becoming a regular thing—something they both looked forward to. “If anything, I’m relieved.”
“Hello,” Mallory called out deliberately, tapping the phone receiver noisily with her finger. “Is that my sister talking? The one I share everything with? The one who can’t hide anything from me?”
Marissa sighed, and rubbed at the tension building in the area between her eyes. Why couldn’t that “twin radar” of theirs have come with an on-off switch? “Okay, okay, maybe I was just a little disappointed—not that I wanted to get involved or start something with him in the first place, but…” Her words drifted off as she remembered how he’d carelessly waved off her concern.
Mallory waited, picturing Marissa’s scowl. “But maybe you should have found out.”
“What?” Marissa gasped, her eyes opening wide.
“Marissa, what would it have hurt?”
“Are you crazy?” Marissa demanded. “Mallory, I would think you of all people would understand what a mistake that would be. My God, we’re talking Dylan James here. Have you forgotten what he did to me? About the past, about Josh?”
“I haven’t forgotten about anything,” Mallory reminded her quietly, feeling her sister’s anger but knowing it wasn’t really directed toward her. “But that was a long time ago, for heaven’s sake. You’re both different people now, and maybe it’s time you started to come to terms with some of those feelings you still have for him.”
“I don’t have any feeling for Dylan James,” Marissa insisted, but even as she spoke she knew Mallory would know differently. She stopped and drew in another deep breath, her headache growing worse. “Not those kinds of feelings, anyway.”
“You mean you aren’t in love with him anymore?”
“How could I be in love with him? You said yourself we’re different people now. I don’t even know who the man is anymore.”
“Well, maybe you would know if you hadn’t slammed the door in his face.”
Marissa closed her eyes. It had been three days since their conversation in the parking lot, and she was sick of thinking about it. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She opened her eyes and checked the clock on the wall. Josh had volunteered to ride his bike to the post office to mail several letters for her, and she’d promised him a driving lesson in return. Knowing how excited he was about learning to drive, she assumed the trip wouldn’t take very long at all. She expected him to come bounding through the back door at any moment now, and didn’t want to be talking about Dylan when he did. “Let me grill you for a while now.”
“I haven’t exactly been grilling you,” Mallory pointed out dryly.
Marissa smiled. “You call it what you want, I’ll call it what I want. Now tell me what’s going on with you? All I’m able to pick up are these disgustingly happy vibes. I suppose that’s because of Graywolf. How is he, by the way?”
She listened as Mallory told her about her husband and their activities on the reservation. Marissa let her mind drift back, remembering the reservation and the places Mallory described. When she’d lived in Arizona, she had spent many weekends on the “Big Res” tutoring at reservation schools, and working with the children. She was grateful now for the chance to escape into her sister’s happiness for a while, to remember the beauty of the reservation and forget all about Dylan, and the way it had felt when he’d kissed her.
“So except for this cold or flu, or whatever it is that’s got me feeling so yucky, things are going great,” Mallory concluded with a deep breath. “Although I’ll admit, they’d be going even better if I could hear about the article I’d submitted to Arizona Magazine.”
“The one on the reservation rehab center? But you just submitted it a couple of weeks ago.” Marissa not only felt her sister’s frustration, she could hear it in her voice. “Give them a chance.”
“I know, I know,” Mallory groused. “It’s just that this waiting kills me.”
“What about Graywolf? He doesn’t pick up any vibes?” Marissa asked, referring to her brother-in-law’s “special” talent—occasional flashes of precognition.
“If he does, he’s not sharing them with me,” Mallory complained.
Marissa laughed. “As if that man could keep anything from you. I hope you’re still planning to come next month for a visit?”
“We’ll be there,” Mallory assured her. “Besides, Graywolf promised Josh they would take the Jeep off-road and
let him try to drive.”
Marissa heard the back door. She turned around just as Josh came running into the kitchen, his face flushed with color and his breath coming in heavy heaves. “Speaking of driving, guess who just showed up for his lesson.”
“Makes me almost glad I live in another state,” Mallory joked. “Give him a hug for me.”
“Well?” Josh asked anxiously when Marissa had hung up the phone.
Marissa looked into his young face and felt a tight constriction around her heart. He looked young, and excited, and she loved him so much. Reaching for her purse, she slipped the strap over her shoulder. “Well, let’s do it.”
“Uh-oh,” Josh said, his hold on the steering wheel tightening and his deep voice cracking. “Now what do I do?”
Marissa stopped rubbing the sore spot on her forehead and glanced behind them. “Damn,” she muttered, surprised to see the flashing red lights from a squad car behind them. “We’re getting pulled over.”
“What did I do?” Josh asked again, panic causing his voice to raise higher.
“Nothing that I know of,” she said, glancing around.
“So what do I do now?”
“Stay calm,” she instructed, doing her best to bank down her own anxiety. “Slow down and pull over.” She pointed to a shady spot near the curb. “There. Pull over there and stop. Let’s find out what’s going on.”
Josh edged the car to a stop, but his face was awash with sweat from nerves. “What did I do?” he asked again, turning to her. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I don’t think you did anything, either,” Marissa admitted honestly, watching as the squad car pulled to a stop behind them. “It’s probably nothing at all.”
Josh gave her an uneasy look. “You’ve never been pulled over by a cop before, have you?”
“Not exactly,” she said, giving him a shrewd look. “But I don’t exactly think we have to make a run for it just yet.” She twisted around in the seat, but from the passenger’s side of the car her vision was obscured, and all she could make out was the uniformed torso of an officer approaching the driver’s side of her car. Her mind spun in a million different directions, ready to launch into a defense and offer a reasonable explanation. But when the officer bent down and peered into the car, she forgot everything.
“Dylan!” she gasped with a mixture of anger and relief. “What are you doing? You scared us half to death.”
“I suppose it would be pointless for me to ask to see an operator’s license,” he said dryly, arching a brow from behind his dark glasses and shifting his gaze from Josh to Marissa.
“Especially since you know he hasn’t got one. This is only a first lesson. Nobody ever has a license for their first lesson,” she pointed out snippily. The dark sunglasses made it impossible to tell where he was looking, and she glared up at him uneasily. “And why are you driving a squad car?”
“Mine’s in the shop,” he said, turning to Josh and giving him a pat on the shoulder. “First lesson, huh?”
“I’m getting my learner’s permit next week,” Josh said excitedly. He was visibly relieved, and he loosened the death grip he had on the wheel.
“Depending on your progress report from class,” Marissa corrected him.
“I guess the time you and Skip were pulled in for joyriding in your mother’s car last year didn’t count,” Dylan remarked sarcastically.
Josh cringed a little, looking appropriately embarrassed. “Skip did all the driving that night. I was just along for the ride.”
Dylan chuckled low. He’d discovered that without the “attitude,” Josh Wakefield had a pretty good sense of humor—clever and pretty sophisticated for a kid his age. That wasn’t something Dylan was used to seeing in the kids who were brought into the station. “You look pretty comfortable behind the wheel. How’s it going?”
“Great!” Josh replied, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. “I think I’m a natural.”
Dylan let his gaze slide across to Marissa and felt something tighten in his chest, but he did his best to cover. “You don’t look too convinced.”
Marissa jumped, realizing he was talking to her. Her hand went to the tender spot on her forehead again. Josh had hit the brake a little too hard when they’d first started out, and she’d had a painful encounter with the rearview mirror. “We’ve had our moments.”
“Judging from that knot on your forehead, I’d say some were better than others,” he said, his voice growing serious. “Uh, just so you’ll know. Josh really should have his permit before he gets behind the wheel. It’s a violation to drive without it—even for lessons—which for most people would normally be no big deal. But for Josh, technically it’s also a violation of his probation.”
Marissa’s face fell. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Dylan shrugged. “Like I said, it’s no big deal. Just something you should be aware of.”
“Oh,” Marissa mumbled, her frown deepening. Josh had been after her for weeks for driving lessons, and frankly, she’d been glad it was something she could do for him. It never occurred to her they would be breaking the law. “Is that why you pulled us over?”
Dylan faltered just a little. He’d been asking himself the same question. It would have been a whole lot easier just to let them pass. After all, the woman had made it very clear she had no interest in him beyond the scope of their business together. It wasn’t as if he needed to invent excuses to see her any longer.
But the fact was he’d been concerned when he’d seen them drive by. Josh was on probation, and driving without a license might be a technicality, but it was just the kind of technicality that could prove explosive when mixed with an overzealous patrol office. And Dylan had realized as he watched the teen maneuvering the car slowly down the street that he didn’t want that to happen, didn’t want something to interfere with the progress Josh had made.
Josh Wakefield might have been a giant pain in the butt for him and the department for the last two years, but the kid honestly seemed to be changing. Dylan was beginning to think Josh just might be one of the lucky kids who really could straighten out, who really might make it.
And for some reason, Dylan was also discovering that whether Josh Wakefield made it or not mattered very much to him.
“Just being careful,” he explained, noticing how the shape of Marissa’s blue-green eyes was almost the same as Josh’s dark brown ones. “It could maybe be a problem if you were pulled over by someone else—a California Highway Patrol or a unit from another jurisdiction—someone who wasn’t up on the situation. I just wouldn’t like to see things get sticky, or anything like that.”
“I see,” Marissa said to the reflection of herself in his dark glasses, wondering whether or not he was even looking at her. She felt uneasy, but not because of the glasses. Without being aware of it, Dylan’s actions were very close to being paternal—a father protecting his son. “Thank you.”
“Actually, it just occurred to me,” he added thoughtfully, turning to Josh. “Something you might do in the meantime—I mean, until you officially get your permit, that is. You know the old creek road, down by the fairgrounds?”
“Sure,” Josh said, nodding. “We used to go out there all the time to…” He stopped abruptly, grinning sheepishly. “Well…I know the place.”
“Yeah.” Dylan laughed, aware that the secluded area was a popular spot for late-night drag races and keg parties. “I thought you might. Anyway…” He tilted his head, glancing back to Marissa. “It’s pretty deserted out there, nobody around, nothing much to run into. No nosy cops.” He stopped and gave her a little smile. “Not a bad place to practice.”
“Well,” Marissa mumbled. Was he smiling at her or Josh? “Maybe we’ll give it a try.”
“Good.” He took a step back, straightening just a little, then stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into the top pocket of his shirt, flipping back the buttoned flap and pulling out a small clump. “What do you think of this?
”
Josh’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the ratty mass of color. “What is that? A black gnat?”
Dylan’s eyes widened with surprise behind the sunglasses. “Damn, you’re good.”
“Hey, I wasn’t three-time junior fly champion at the county fair for nothing, you know,” Josh said, reaching out the car window and taking the fly from Dylan, then examining it closely. “Under-ten division.”
Marissa watched as Josh and Dylan studied the fly, discussing the weight, the size and the materials used. Again she was struck by not only the remarkable physical resemblance between father and son, but by the similarities in their personalities, as well. They had the same dry, selfdeprecating wit, and both used that good-natured humor to ease themselves out of awkward situations.
She thought of Dylan and the conversation they’d had in the parking lot of the courthouse earlier in the week. His nonchalance and casual remarks had certainly eased what could—or should—have been an awkward situation between them. Had that been his way of coping with an unpleasant moment, or was it that his feelings about her were really that casual?
She shook her head. It was moot now, anyway. The ground rules had all been laid out. From now on it would be strictly business between them—no more, no less. And she knew better than anyone else, that was all it ever could be.
“I’m heading up toward Fiddle Town next week,” Dylan said to Josh, slipping the fly back into his pocket. “To that spot I told you about. Thought I’d test it out, see if I have any luck.” He hesitated a moment, then shrugged. “Interested in coming along?”
Josh turned to Marissa, his eyes wide with excitement. “Can I?”
* * *
Dylan reached into his tackle box, past the neatly assorted trays of flies and lures, to the set of small silver clippers he kept in the bottom of the box. Finding them, he straightened up, tying off his line with a neat doubt knot and snipping it free of the spool.
The sun beat down on his back, scorching his bare skin, a marked contrast to the frigid chill of the stream, whose waters flowed with the runoff of last winter’s snowpack. But Dylan ignored the sun’s searing heat, just like he ignored the water’s icy bite. The morning had been too good, too productive, to worry about sunburn or soaking feet. Especially since he was well on his way to catching his limit.
Father Figure Page 11
