"See, there's another question."
She laughed at the teasing light in his eyes. "You don't like the question, because you don't want to answer, but I really wish you would. I'm curious."
"I don't have a great answer. I guess I like bringing something old and dead back to life. I see a lot of destruction in my line of work. Restoring old cars feels like something positive." He shrugged. "It's hard to explain."
"Actually, you explained it really well." She was touched that he'd given her a real answer. "But I do know that your love of cars started long before you were a firefighter."
"That's true. I bought my first junk heap of a vehicle because I wanted my own ride, and my parents were not interested in dishing out money for cars. There were too many of us for that. So if I wanted my own wheels, I had to find them. I liked it so much that I helped Hunter and Ian out, so they could get mobile. It became a hobby that I kept up long after I could afford to buy a new car. But now it also provides a nice change of pace from breaking down burning buildings with a sledgehammer and shooting streams of water at a blazing fire."
"I understand. Sometimes it's nice to escape into another world."
"What's your other world?"
"Me? I don't know. I mostly work these days." She finished her wine and then wished she'd taken longer to sip it, because now she should probably go.
"Do you want another drink? How about a burger?" he asked. "I haven't had dinner yet, have you? And Brady's still makes the best bacon cheeseburger you've ever had."
"I've never understood the appeal of bacon on a burger, but I could eat," she said, surprised by the unexpected invitation. In her past experience with Dylan, he was usually ready to get rid of her as fast as possible.
"Let's grab a table."
"Okay." She felt a little flustered, but as she followed him across the room to an empty table, she reminded herself that this was not a date.
Although, it was kind of starting to feel like one.
Four
Tori had changed a lot, Dylan thought. She'd grown out of her braces and glasses and was strikingly pretty with long, thick, brown hair that ran down past her shoulders and big, bright, dark-blue eyes that reminded him of the sea—way, way out from shore, where the colors were the darkest, deepest blue. Her skin, where it hadn't been stung with shards of glass from the explosion yesterday, was creamy and clear, and Tori's lips looked soft and full and very, very kissable.
He mentally put the brakes on that thought. He was not going to kiss Scott's sister. That was a crazy idea. He'd never dated the sister of any of his friends. That was just asking for trouble and having grown up with five siblings, three of whom were sisters, he knew enough about women to know who to stay away from.
But they were just having burgers and catching up—no big deal.
After they ordered another round of drinks and two burgers, Tori rested her arms on the table and gave him a long look.
There was something in her direct gaze that made him nervous, which was an odd thing to feel around her. But then she wasn't the quirky little kid who followed him and Scott around anymore. She was a woman—a beautiful woman, and she was smart, too. She was also reckless and impulsive and competitive, he reminded himself, which was why she'd almost gotten herself blown up.
He still didn't really understand her logic, but then she'd never been particularly logical. Tori Hayden ran on emotion. And that was the last thing he ever acted on.
As they stared at each other for far too long, he decided to break the growing tension between them. "So, what's on your mind?"
"Nothing."
"Come on, Tori."
"Well, I have a few questions, but I'm reluctant to ask them now."
"I was just teasing you before. Ask away. What do you want to know?"
"I guess I'm a little curious about you, Dylan."
"Oh, yeah?" He was surprised. He'd thought she'd get right back to questions about the fire. "Curious about what? You already know I'm a firefighter and that I still waste my time fixing old cars."
"What else do you do? Do you have a woman in your life?"
"Not at the moment."
"Interesting," she murmured.
"Is it?" he countered.
"Whatever happened to your high school and college girlfriend—Jenny Meyers? You went out all through college, didn't you?"
"And for a couple of years after that," he admitted, feeling the pain from those dark memories.
"What happened between you?"
"Nothing we need to get into."
He could see she didn’t like that vague response, but thankfully, she moved on. "Well, what about since then? Any other serious relationships?"
"Nope. What about you? You said you don't currently have a boyfriend, but I'm guessing you've broken a few hearts over the years."
"I doubt that. I dated someone for almost two years when I was in New York, but he didn't like my work hours, and when I had a chance to get a better job in Boston, he told me not to go."
"And you love it when people tell you what to do," he said dryly.
"I didn't like his all-or-nothing attitude," she admitted. "I thought he could have supported me in the move. The cities aren't that far apart. We could have done long distance for a while."
"It sounds like you were better off making a clean break."
"Probably. It was freeing not to have to worry about working long hours. I tend to get caught up in whatever story I'm covering. Reporting isn't just a job for me; it's a passion. It's who I am. I want to make a difference—the way my father did. He used to tell me how important it was to have reporters who would fight injustice and be a voice for those who might not be able to speak. That's what I want to do. And sometimes it takes evenings and weekends to do that."
He loved the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about her job. Tori had always been willing to put in more than a hundred percent on anything she was driven to do. "Good for you."
She gave him a somewhat embarrassed smile. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get on a soapbox."
"I like people who care about what they're doing. Work is where you spend a lot of your life; it's great if you can enjoy it."
"I do—mostly. Unfortunately, I've found that sometimes it's not that easy to either get to the truth or have the time to really dig for it. That's one reason I took the job at the Examiner. They report the daily news, but they also do longer features, and that gives me more time to write a series of articles on one subject, do more in-depth with interviews and opinions."
"And you're focused on the homeless issue."
"Yes. It's a really big problem in this city, Dylan."
"I know. I'm out there every day. It's complex."
"It is. And I didn't mean to imply that you were blind to anything," she said quickly. "What you do is more important than anything I do; you save lives. You run into burning buildings when everyone else is running out." She paused. "How do you do that, Dylan?"
He shrugged, realizing once again that it wasn't just that Tori liked to ask questions; it was that her questions were sometimes too personal. He couldn't just brush her off; she wanted a real answer.
"It's what I'm trained to do," he said.
"But still, you have to have so much courage. Do you love it? I know you followed in your dad's footsteps. Is it what you thought it would be?"
"It's more," he said, considering her question. "I grew up thinking that I would follow in the family tradition, which involves not just my dad, but my uncle, my cousins, and my grandfather. Callaways are born to serve and protect. So I never really thought about doing something else—well, maybe racing cars, but I always knew that was more of a hobby."
"Some people make it a career."
"That wasn't going to be enough for me. Once I became a firefighter, I realized that it wasn't just the tradition that I liked; it was the actual job. It's dangerous and thrilling and the adrenaline rush is addictive, but so is the ability I have to help someone. I li
ke being able to do that. It hurts when I can't."
"Like yesterday," she said quietly.
"One more minute—if I'd had one more minute," he said, his voice trailing away. "But I didn't."
"You tried your best."
"It wasn't good enough."
She stared back at him with a thoughtful gaze.
"What?" he asked.
"I don't think I ever realized you could be so hard on yourself. You were always about fun when you were hanging with Scott at our house."
"I'm still about fun," he said, realizing he'd let her see a side of himself he didn't show very often. "Anyway, that's enough about me."
"What about your siblings? What's everyone up to?"
"Hunter is a firefighter, but he's traveling at the moment. Ian is a scientist. I have no idea what he does, but I'm sure it's going to change the world."
"He always was the smartest kid around. And your sisters?"
"Annie works in advertising and graphic design. She lives in Los Angeles. Kate is an FBI agent."
"No way," Tori interrupted, her eyes widening in surprise. "She's in the FBI?"
"Yes, and kicking ass on a regular basis. She lives in DC with her boyfriend who's an ex-agent turned PI."
"Wow, that's amazing. And Mia?"
"She moved to Angel's Bay and married a guy with a little girl, so she's a stepmother now. She also works at an art gallery in the town."
"I used to love your big family. It seemed like so much fun to have that many siblings around. And then there were all your cousins. Callaway parties were standing room only."
"That's very true. I never knew any different so it all feels normal to me. I actually liked hanging out at your house; it was a lot quieter."
"Except when I was asking you all those irritating questions."
"Even then."
"Really? You're being nicer than I remember."
He laughed at the teasing light in her eyes. He found himself wanting to be nice to her, wanting to be a lot more than just nice to her. He couldn't remember when he'd really talked to a woman, not just did the small talk dating kind of conversation but actually spoke about things that mattered. It felt remarkably easy to be with Tori. "I wasn't always nice to you?" he challenged.
"No, you weren't. Although, you were nicer than some of Scott's friends. But you were the big man on campus—the hotshot athlete. All the girls wanted you, so it's not surprising your ego was rather large."
"All the girls wanted me, huh?"
"Well, that's what I heard," she said, a slight flush in her cheeks now. "I was a lot younger, so I didn't know exactly what was going on."
"Your brother was popular, too."
"Oh, I know," she agreed. "Girls used to try to be my friend just so they could come over to the house and flirt with you and Scott."
"Who did that?"
"Too many to name."
"How about one?"
"Melody Price."
"Melody," he murmured, thinking the name was familiar, but he couldn't quite place her.
"Blonde hair, big boobs, skinny legs," Tori said tartly.
"That could describe a lot of girls in high school."
"That's true. You did have a type. Jenny Meyer had the same blonde centerfold look to her."
"Jenny was very attractive."
"She was. I wanted to be just like her. I could see that blondes were having a lot more fun than me, so I actually tried to dye my hair blonde. Unfortunately, it came out orange. I couldn't leave the house for a week. Even my mother agreed that it was too embarrassing for me to go out in public, so she let me stay home sick until we could get a salon to fix it." She paused. "I did some stupid stuff back then."
"That does sound stupid," he agreed.
She rolled her eyes at him. "You didn't always make the best decisions, either, Dylan."
"We don't need to get into my bad decisions." He sat up a little straighter as the waiter set down their burgers. "Saved by the bacon burger."
"For now," Tori said, as she eyed her cheeseburger with avocado and onions. "I don't remember the burgers being this big." She took a bite, then added, "Or this good. It's amazing."
"They got a new chef about a year ago."
"Well, he's great."
"He is."
As they worked their way through their burgers, they chatted a little more about old times and mutual friends. Tori had a great memory—too good at times. She seemed to recall every bad decision made and every stupid thing he'd ever done.
By the end of dinner, he realized she knew a lot more about him than he knew about her, and now he was intrigued to know more. He was sorry when the waiter brought their check, and Tori said it was time to head home.
"I'll walk out with you," he said. "Did you take a cab?"
"No, I drove. It actually felt good to be behind the wheel," she said, as they walked out of Brady's. "I hadn't gotten the car out of the garage in the three weeks I've been here. Not easy to park around where I live, but out here, there's more space." She paused. "Where do you live?"
"In the Marina, near the Presidio and the Golden Gate Bridge. I run there in the mornings."
"That's right. You like to run," she said with a grimace.
"What's wrong with running?"
"It just seems so boring," she said, as they walked down the street. "I like fitness classes better—music, movement, people around."
"Well, you can find plenty of those in the city."
"I can. Now I just have to find the time—what the hell?"
He frowned as she crossed the street, wondering what had suddenly startled her. When she pulled a piece of paper out from under the windshield wiper of what had to be her car, he saw her face tighten. She looked up at him, then turned her head quickly from one direction to the other, as if someone were watching them.
"What is it?" he asked sharply.
She handed him the piece of paper.
There were only three words on it: Stop Asking Questions.
His gut clenched, as his gaze took in the empty street. There wasn't much open this time of night and not a lot of people around.
"What's this about?" he asked.
"I don't know."
"The fire?"
"Or maybe my homeless story. I've been to a lot of homeless camps, to City Hall, to shelters, to groups developing new plans to fix the situation. I've been trying to make sense of what funds are set aside for housing and how they're being used. I've been turning over a lot of stones."
His lips tightened. "So you could have pissed any number of people off."
"Apparently you're not the only one who thinks I ask too many questions," she said, trying to be light and funny but falling significantly short.
"This is a threat, Tori."
"Not much of one. It's just words scribbled on a piece of paper."
He didn't like the way she was downplaying it. "Someone knew this was your car. And how did they know you would be here? Did they follow you? Did you tell someone you were meeting me here?"
"Now you're the one asking too many questions."
"Tori, come on. Who did you tell about our meeting?"
She thought for a moment. "I told my editor I was meeting you to see if you had more information on the fire," she said. "But she likes me to ask questions, and she's not interested in the fire story; she wants me to get back into my research on the homeless article."
"Who else?"
"I mentioned it to my mom and Ray and some of their friends."
"What friends?"
"The Heddens—Joanie and Mitch. You remember them, don’t you?"
"Sure. Was anyone else there?"
"Jim Beacham. But I've known the Heddens and Jim since I was a child. Our families have been super close. They wouldn't do this."
"No," he agreed, coming to the only other conclusion. "Then someone followed you."
"They would have had to follow me from my apartment to my mom's house to here. That's a long tail ov
er several hours. And I was at my mom's house for at least a half hour. Why wouldn't they have left me the note then?"
"I don't know, but you need to report this to the police."
"I can, but it's not going to matter, Dylan. It's just words scribbled on a piece of paper. I've been threatened before. I know the drill. The police take a report, and that's it."
"You've been threatened before?"
"It goes with the territory of being an investigative reporter."
He frowned at her answer. "What happened the last time?"
"Nothing. It was just a warning. I'm sure this is, too. But I'm not going to let anyone scare me away from doing my job."
He could hear the determination in her voice and while he was impressed, he also didn't like it.
"If you're thinking about calling Scott, forget it," Tori warned him. "He's getting married on Saturday. I'm not going to ruin that."
He didn't want to stress Scott out, either. "I wasn't planning on calling him. But I do think you should talk to the police. Maybe they can pull security footage from a camera around here." Tori's car was parked in front of a hair salon and a dry cleaner. There was no obvious sign of an exterior camera but there could be one on any of the other buildings on the block.
"I guess I can call them, but I'm telling you, they're not going to do anything."
He suspected she was right. "Okay, hold on," he said, as she took out her phone. "I have a better idea. My cousin Emma's husband Max is a detective with the SFPD. Let's start with him. He can hopefully advise you on the best action."
Tori's eyes lit up. "Emma, the fire investigator? I know she's not assigned to the hotel fire, but if this note has anything to do with the fire—"
"She'll want to know," he finished. "So will Kruger. But let's start with Emma, because I really want to get some perspective on this note." He took out his phone and punched in Emma's number. He thought the warning had more to do with Tori's news story than the fire, but he couldn't be sure. Either way, he wanted to get the police involved. He owed it to Scott to keep an eye on Tori.
He told himself that was why he was getting so involved, but as he looked into Tori's beautiful blue eyes, he knew that wasn't the only reason.
Once You're Mine Page 5
