by Jane Porter
He glared at her and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I won’t faint.”
“Good. So eat something or I won’t drive you over.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Life’s not fair. So eat,” she insisted, sitting down at the table with him, pleased to see him get one cracker down and then another. “What are you going to wear tonight?”
“What do I have to wear?”
“Your school didn’t say?”
He shook his head.
“Then maybe nice dark jeans or cords with a button down shirt.” She stole one of the apple slices off his plate. He not only didn’t protest but he handed her another slice. “I like your blue Oxford. What do you think?”
“What’s my Oxford?”
“It’s just a kind of shirt.”
“What makes it an Oxford?”
She chewed on the apple, thoughtful. “That’s a good question. I really don’t know.”
Paige and the kids left the house at four thirty to walk to the Rodeo Fair Grounds via Court Street and Crawford Park. It was a beautiful late afternoon, the kind of cloudless spring day that hinted at warmer weather to come. The Science Fair’s Open House didn’t start for another half hour, and it was only a fifteen minute walk, but Tyler insisted they be there early and Paige was happy to get out of the house and let the kids run through the park, playing on the park gazebo on the way.
She’d returned from Austin two weeks ago with a new attitude and a fierce resolve to do things differently. She was going to be different. She was going to continue to be bold, and pursue taking risks, and that included doing more socially, like dating.
That’s right. Dating. Real men. Kind men. Successful, loving, available men. Men who wanted wives and kids and enjoyed family life.
So Paige was actually grateful to Dillon for waking her up, and reminding her what was important. She was important. Her dreams were important, and he was right. She did deserve to be happy, and she’d find someone who made her happy. Thank you very much.
“Ouch, Mom! You’re squeezing my fingers too hard,” Addison protested, tugging on Paige’s hand as they took the bridge over the train tracks to the fair grounds.
“What? Oh, sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to.” Paige leaned over, and dropped a kiss on top of her daughter’s head, and then glanced at Tyler who was marching next to them, hands in his trouser pockets looking focused and stoic. “How are you holding up, Tyler?”
“Fine,” he grunted.
“What are your chances tonight? How did you think you did?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I think I should win, but I’m not a judge, so...who knows?”
The exhibit hall wasn’t exactly packed, but a good crowd had come out tonight to see the projects and discover who had won what.
Paige was thrilled for Tyler when they reached the spot where he’d set up his project and his pristine white poster board with the photographs and results of his experiment were decorated with a cluster of big ribbons.
Tyler took third overall, and first place for his age group, with a special ribbon recognizing his meticulous research and reporting methods.
He was ecstatic, not that a stranger would know, since he wasn’t the kind of kid to sing and dance and draw attention to himself. But Tyler was pleased, and he stood off to the side of his project, arms folded across his thin chest, a very alert, bright expression on his face. He was proud of himself, Paige thought, as well he should be.
“You did really good,” she told him yet again, limiting herself to just patting his shoulder since he’d made it clear during her last hug, that it was to be the last hug, since they were in public, and he was a scientist and an engineer.
“Thank you,” he said, his gaze darting, scanning the crowds.
He’d been watching the people touring the hall ever since they arrived an hour ago. “Who are you looking for?” she asked him. “Grandma and Grandpa?”
“No. No one,” he answered, looking past her, gaze narrowed behind his glasses as it swept one aisle, and then the next.
She tipped her head. “Are you sure you’re not waiting for someone?”
His mouth tightened. “No.” But this time, he sounded a little annoyed, and possibly uncertain.
“Well, I’m going to take Addison around to look at all the displays, and when we return, it’ll be time to go.”
“But the Open House doesn’t end until eight!”
“Honey, I can’t keep Addison standing around for three hours.”
“Then go, and I’ll just walk home.”
“I’m not going to have you walking home at eight. It’ll be dark.”
“I’ll find someone to walk with—”
“He can walk with me,” the deep voice said, coming from behind them. “That is, if it’s okay with you, Paige.”
Dillon.
She swallowed hard, and turned around even as Tyler launched himself at Dillon with a victorious shout. “Dillon,” the boy cried. “You came. You did. I knew you would.”
Tyler was not a demonstrative kid but he was hugging Dillon and then high-fiving him and rocking back on his heels, grinning from ear to ear. “I won in my age group,” Tyler said, still beaming. “Third overall. Did you see that? And a ribbon for my methodology.”
Dillon smiled, nodded. “I’m very impressed.”
Tyler just grinned some more.
Paige didn’t know what to do. She’d been so angry with him, and she was still angry with him. And he’d said he wasn’t ever coming back, at least not until Troy and Taylor’s wedding, yet here he was. At an elementary school science fair.
Her eyes burned. Her chest ached. She didn’t know what to think or feel. She didn’t know where to look because all she could see was him. All six foot four inches of gorgeous tough Dillon Sheenan.
“Hi Dillon,” Addison chirped, pushing aside the bunting to climb out from beneath the table. “What are you doing here?”
He ruffled her hair. “I came to see your brother’s project.”
Addison made a face. “You thought he was going to lose, didn’t you?”
Dillon laughed. “No. I thought he had a good chance of winning.”
She sighed. “I thought he was going to lose. He is soooo boring.”
Tyler rolled his eyes and Addison reached for Dillon’s hand. “So you didn’t come to see me?” she asked flirtatiously.
Addison was shameless, Paige thought. But Dillon didn’t seem to mind.
“I came to see you, too, squirt,” he answered.
“Squirt?” She planted her hands on her hips. “I am a princess!”
Dillon laughed, and then he looked at Paige, his eyes meeting hers. His smile faded. “How are you?”
Paige didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He shouldn’t be here. “Good,” she said lowly. “Busy.”
“We’re selling our house,” Addison piped up.
Dillon frowned. “What?”
The little girl nodded. “We’re moving to a new house. A new small house. But it will be much nicer.”
He looked at Paige. “Where are you going?”
Paige really didn’t feel like discussing it, here, now, at the Science Fair, and not in front of Tyler, who wasn’t happy about the impending move. Although to be fair, it wasn’t all that immediate since they hadn’t found a buyer yet, and Paige couldn’t purchase a new home until they sold the Victorian, so really, it could be months before anything happened. On the positive side, summer was coming and Sam Melk had assured her that the buyers would be there. Provided she was patient. And priced the house right.
“To a house near TJ,” Addison said. “That way we can play with him.”
Dillon was having a hard time processing that Paige was selling the house. He’d driven past the house earlier, when he’d gotten into town, but he hadn’t seen a for sale sign out front. “You’re using Sam as a realtor?”
Paige smiled tightly. “Keep your enemi
es close, right?” She looked away.
“But we’re not actually moving into Trey and McKenna’s neighborhood, but looking at one of the new subdivisions on the other side of 89. There are some affordable neighborhoods over that way with new houses that would be good for us. No more plumbing nightmares.”
“Or heating. Our furnace is always breaking,” Addison added mournfully.
He smiled at Addison and yet his attention was fully zeroed in on Paige, who he knew was livid with him. He didn’t blame her, either. Her visit to Austin had ended badly, and at the time he’d thought it was the right thing to do—set her straight—but now he knew he was wrong.
Wrong about many things.
“So can I take you all out for dessert when the event ends?” he asked. “Maybe somewhere for pie or to the ice cream shoppe for sundaes?”
“Sorry, can’t,” Paige said swiftly. “I have to work early in the morning, and it’s going to be a long day since I’m closing, too. A lot of my girls are out since it’s the Prom and I forget, but there’s also something else going on.”
“Sunday?”
“No. I’ve plans.” Paige folded her arms over her chest, her jaw firm, lips thin. “Maybe next time you’re in town we can catch up.”
She didn’t mean it, he thought, seeing the fierce light in her eyes. She would be happy to never see him again.
“I’d like to talk, Paige,” he said, dropping his voice, not wanting the kids to overhear. “We need—”
“There is no we,” she interrupted hoarsely, her voice pitched just as low. “There is nothing between us. So thank you for bringing Tyler safely home after the show ends tonight, but other than that, there is nothing to say.” And then she took Addison firmly by the hand, and quickly walked away.
At home, Paige refused to let herself think about him. She was never going to think about him. Not ever again.
But once she put Paige to bed she paced back and forth in the living room waiting for Tyler to appear. But eight thirty turned to nine, and then nine rolled into nine thirty and Paige was beside herself.
Dillon had promised to return him safely. Where was Tyler? What were they both doing out? It was going on ten.
Finally a truck rolled up in front of the house, and the headlights turned off. Paige stepped back from the window, holding her breath, praying that Dillon wouldn’t come up to the house. She wasn’t interested in talking to him.
She heard footsteps outside and the voices of Dillon and Tyler on the front porch. Tyler opened the door and shouted goodnight to Dillon and then the front door closed and Tyler came bounding in. “Mom! Mom. Where are you?”
She met him in the hall and her non-dancing, non-singing son was practically dancing and singing as he told her how he and Dillon went for ice cream sundaes to celebrate his success and that they were already talking about ideas for next year’s Science Fair.
Tyler chattered happily all the way up the stairs, into the bedroom where he brushed his teeth and then while he changed and climbed into bed. “I like him, Mom,” he said, as she leaned over to kiss him goodnight.
“That’s good.”
“You like him, too, right?”
“Goodnight, honey.”
“Mom?”
“I’m glad he’s your friend, honey. Now go to sleep.”
But in her own room that evening, it took Paige hours and hours to fall asleep.
Chapter 17
It’d been a very long day, and except for a three-hour break mid afternoon, Paige had been on her feet at the diner for almost thirteen hours today.
But now she was closing the front of the restaurant while Jeffrey, their new twenty-two-year-old cook scrubbed down the grill in the kitchen. Paige’s feet ached and her back was sore but she’d gotten through the day and tomorrow she had off. Soon she’d be home.
She passed by the stereo on the way to her bleach bucket with the cleaning and cranked the volume up, letting Jennifer Nettles’ throaty voice pour from the speakers tucked high in the ceiling corners.
Outside, the moon shone bright. Thank God she’d soon be home, in bed.
Paige took the damp rag and wiped the ketchup bottles down, and then refilled the salt and pepper shakers. She was in the middle of screwing the caps back on the pepper when a knock sounded on the front door.
It could have been Jeffrey’s ride. But it wasn’t. She knew without looking who it was, she could just feel it, the energy too intense.
She walked to the door, pointed to the deadbolt lock and shook her head. “We’re closed,” she said. “Closed an hour ago.”
Dillon gave her a look.
“Closed,” she repeated, even more loudly than before.
One of his black brows lifted.
“Sorry,” she said, although they both knew she was not in the least apologetic.
He just looked at her, a long penetrating look that made her feel a tad ridiculous. But she wasn’t the problem. He was.
“Open the door,” he said firmly, his deep voice carrying.
“I can’t.”
“Open the door, Paige.”
“No.”
“Paige.”
“Um.” Jeffrey stood behind her, clearing his throat. “Is everything okay?”
Paige shot her cook a glance. Jeffrey looked nervous. She supposed she didn’t blame him. Dillon looked huge on the doorstep.
“I’ve got it,” Paige said.
“You know Mr. Sheenan?” Jeffrey asked uncertainly.
Paige nearly rolled her eyes. Mr. Sheenan indeed. “Yes,” she said, hiding her frustration. “I know Dillon Sheenan.”
“Then you’re okay if I take off?” The cook kept glancing from Paige to the shadow outside the door, and then back again. “The grill is clean. Kitchen’s mopped. Everything’s sanitized.”
“You’re good to go then. Thanks, Jeffrey. Goodnight.” She twisted the deadbolt, unlocking the door and swinging it open to let Jeffrey out. Dillon took advantage of the open door to come in.
“We’re closed,” she said flatly.
“So you’ve said.” He stepped past her, his big body bumping her as he squeezed by. Dillon took off his cowboy hat and ran his hand through his thick black hair, smoothing it. “How much longer do you have?”
She lifted her chin, tone cool. “Hoping to get out in the next few minutes.”
“Good. We need to talk.”
“We covered this already. There’s nothing to be said, and I need to get home to the kids—”
“Who are sleeping. I know, because I’ve spent the better part of my evening at your house, with the kids, and their grandparents. Lew’s parents. Nice people.”
She stiffened. “What were you doing at my house?”
“Tyler invited me over to meet his grandparents and talk about our plans for the next year’s event.”
“I should have never given him your number.” She knotted her hands, fingers making fists. “He’s brilliant and lonely and impressionable and he doesn’t need you confusing him.”
“How would I confuse him?”
“By being kind to him and offering to help him and making him think you are some nice guy when you’re not nice at all—” she broke off, swallowing hard to keep from saying more, especially as she’d already said too much.
Dillon sighed and peeled off his jacket, draping it on the back of a chair, before sitting down at the table as if he owned the place.
“I’m trying to get out of here, Dillon, so Lew’s parents, those nice people, can go home.”
He turned in the chair so that he could stretch his legs out, and cross his boots at the ankle. “I like you better when you’re naked in bed.”
“I’m not a faucet you can turn on and off, hot and cold. So let’s not play games here, Dillon. You were into me, and then you weren’t, and I came to see you—my bad—but you made it painfully clear in Texas that you’re really not into me, so I’ve no idea why you’re back here in my town, acting as if we’re friends. Becaus
e we’re not friends.” She looked him up and down, seeing how he filled the seat, filled the space, his legs long and muscular. “And we will never be friends.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not the kind of friend I need.”
One of his black eyebrows lifted quizzically as he smiled, a slow infuriating smile that made her blood boil. “I disagree. I think I’m exactly what you need.”
“Never.”
He had the gall to laugh, laugh, as he got to his feet. “You are so feisty.”
“I’m not feisty. I’m angry, and offended.” She backed up a step and then another as he walked towards her. She lifted a hand, her finger pointed in warning. “So go, leave, but take this with you: don’t you ever play me like I’m one of those Grey’s girls hanging around the pool table. I deserve better. I deserve—” And then the words died as he reached for her, pulling her to him.
Her head tipped back and her mind went blank as she looked up into his eyes, the gold-whiskey eyes bright, hot, demanding.
“Don’t,” she whispered, putting a hand to his chest even as his arms circled around her, drawing her closer still.
“Don’t what, baby?”
“Not your baby,” she protested huskily as his head dipped and his mouth hovered just above hers. “Can’t be your baby when I hate you.”
“You don’t hate me,” he murmured. “You love me.”
Her heart thudded hard, and a lump filled her throat. “You’re awful.”
“Awfully crazy about you.”
“You broke my heart.”
“But I’m here, and I’ll put it back together again.”
She swallowed hard, eyes stinging. “You don’t mean it.”
“I do.” He reached out to gently pluck a tendril of hair from her eyelashes and smooth it back from her face. “I do. Don’t you realize, sweetheart, that I’m madly in love with you?”
She held her breath, afraid to move, or think.
“It’s true,” he added, smoothing another flyaway strand. “I love you. And there are other things I’d like to say, but for now, there’s nothing more important than saying I’m sorry. I was wrong. And I’m asking you for a chance to let me make things right.”
