Hateful shrew.
“Mike, I’m glad I found you. I’ve got some kids from the parade at the ice cream shack, and they are desperate to meet a real-life, big-city detective. Will you come talk to them, please?”
Ugh.
Manipulative, hateful shrew!
She didn’t care about kids. She didn’t care about anything but getting into Michael’s pants.
Dana placed a hand on his bicep and tilted her head to the side, pretty much fluttering her lashes at him. “Please.”
Michael turned his head toward me. “You make all these costumes?”
Surprised by the question, I softened my scowl. “Dana’s, and a few others. The rest are rentals.”
He looked at me for a long, intense moment. “You’re so talented, dahlin’. Everyone looks amazing.”
That he had turned how fantastic Dana looked into something I had done was merely proof that Michael Sullivan was the best guy in the world. I couldn’t help my smile. “Thank you.”
He grinned at me.
“Oh.” Dana looked at me, and I saw the flash of catty calculation in her icy eyes. “Yeah, Dahlia is great. So great, I know she won’t mind if I steal you away. I know she’s not exactly the maternal type, but even Dahlia wouldn’t keep you from the kids.”
Bitch.
I gave her a pinched smile. “Of course, I wouldn’t. They’re so very, very, very desperate, after all.”
Michael coughed into his fist, and I grinned harder at him, making his dark eyes dance. He wasn’t interested in Dana Kellerman. He wasn’t interested in anyone but me, and that shouldn’t make me as happy as it did. Was there ever a woman more complicated than me?
“You should go to the kids,” I said. “They really will be excited to meet you. And thicken the accent. They’ll love that.”
His reticence was evident, but he nodded, and I watched as Dana threaded her arm through his and led him away through the crowds.
“What was that?” Bailey barked in my ear.
“Oh my God!” I nearly fell off my stool. I turned around to see her standing behind me with her hands on her slim hips. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Did you just let Michael walk away with Dana Kellerman?”
“Did you just pretend to be upset with Vaughn to deflect from your devious matchmaking plans?”
We glared at each other.
Then Bailey rolled her eyes and slipped onto the stool next to mine. “It wasn’t totally a pretense. Vaughn has a tendency toward high-handed. I need to remind him who he’s dealing with now and then.”
“He knows you’re up to something.”
“Of course he does. He knows me too well. You didn’t help by almost ratting me out.” She blew a raspberry at me. “He sees everything in black and white when it comes to the people he cares for. He wouldn’t understand Emery and Jack.”
“There is no Emery and Jack.” I grabbed her hand. “Bails, I adore you, you know that, but I don’t get this. You hate Dana and Jack for what they did to Cooper. Why would you push Emery toward Jack Devlin?”
“Because she’s stronger than you all think. You all want to coddle and protect her, but maybe what she needs is to be pushed outside her comfort zone. There are things she’s not telling us. And there are things that Jack is not telling us. You forget I grew up with Jack Devlin. I hero-worshipped the guy. He is not a bad person, Dahlia.” She shook her head. “He punched out Stu when he heard his brother attacked me, and he gave Jess a heads-up about his dad coming after Cooper’s liquor license.”
This was true. When Jess and Cooper first started dating, Ian Devlin had been harassing Cooper about buying his bar for months. Devlin had bribed someone on the city board of licenses so that Cooper’s liquor license wouldn’t be renewed, thus forcing him out of business. Cooper would never have found out until it was too late if Jack hadn’t warned Jessica about it.
It was Jess’s idea to make all of us who owned businesses on the boardwalk sign a petition stating we’d close our doors if Cooper’s license wasn’t renewed. Jess and Cooper took the petition to the city council, and the chairwoman saw it was in her best interest, and in the interest of our tourist economy, to investigate and renew his license.
“You know that I agree with you about Jack. That there’s more to his story.” I leaned toward my friend, hoping my words would sink in. “And I agree that Emery isn’t telling us everything about her past. There’s a reason she’s so introverted and shy. And yes, that does make me want to handle her with care because I have this awful feeling that someone didn’t handle her with care, Bailey.”
Bailey sat back, her eyes darkening with worry.
“Jack is hiding something. That’s a man riddled with issues. I know Emery has a crush on him. Anyone with eyes can see that. But speaking as a woman riddled with issues who has a good person interested in her … I don’t want Emery to go through what Michael is going through. She needs someone gentle, who has his shit together. Don’t push this. Please.”
After a moment’s study, Bailey nodded. “I’ll leave them alone.”
“Good.” I heaved a sigh of relief.
“But I can’t leave what you just said alone. You are not Jack Devlin, Dahlia. And Michael is not Emery. You are a good person. You do deserve Michael. And whatever demon is holding you hostage”—she squeezed my arm tight, her eyes blazing with sincerity and concern—“you have to let it go before you lose Michael forever.”
“Bailey—”
“Have you thought about it? Really thought about it? What your life will look like again without him in it?”
I had.
It was hollow and empty and cold.
But it would be more than Dillon would ever get to have.
“These are for sale, right?” A female voice drew us out of our conversation. A tourist stood at the stall wearing a curious expression, glancing between us.
I forced a smile, pretending like I wasn’t seconds away from falling apart, and gestured to my jewelry. “Yes. And it’s all handmade.”
Bailey was right. I needed to say no to Kell Summers. Maybe even hell no!
Gazing around the conference room in Vaughn’s hotel, my stomach gave an unhappy lurch. It had been a week since the carnival, I’d avoided Michael and all the serious thoughts that came with him, but I had not avoided Kell Summers.
Kell had set up tables in two long rows with chairs opposite each other for the speed-dating event. The room was buzzing with familiar and not-so-familiar faces, so I surmised that the rumors were true. The event had attracted people from all over the county.
Dating was no big deal to me.
I’d started serial dating in my mid-twenties, and I’d used every app and online dating site available. Dating had led me all over our small state, and I’d gone on dates in Philadelphia, Maryland, and New Jersey. Very few of those dates had turned into anything resembling a relationship, and as soon as I realized that’s what it was, I’d walked away.
The longest “relationship” I’d been in was with Jeff King. I’d considered it more a fling, but it had lasted three months. Subconsciously, I knew it was getting serious, but the sex was so good, I hadn’t wanted to give him up. Plus, Jeff was great. He reminded me a little of Michael. However, he wasn’t Michael, and when it became clear he was developing real feelings for me, I broke things off. It wasn’t fair to Jeff, or to any man, to be with a woman who could never love him the way he deserved.
I’d returned to my serial dating, and it was a way to pass the time and deal with that pesky sexual frustration (although to be fair, my vibrator did a better job more often than not), so speed dating shouldn’t have bothered me.
Yet, it bothered me.
It bothered me greatly.
Because Kell Summers hadn’t only talked me into doing it.
Michael and Jeff were in the room.
Michael saw me as soon as I walked in, but he’d been cornered by Dana Kellerman. Surprise, surprise
. He nodded at me, and I gave him a small wave in greeting. Jeff had also been talking to a woman, someone I didn’t recognize, when he saw me. Nervousness shot through me as he excused himself and strode across the room.
Jeff was tall, and there was something about the way he walked that reminded me of the way cowboys swaggered in the old Hollywood movies. He had a rangy build, not thick muscle like Michael, but lean and hard. All of that was good. Very masculine, rugged, sexy goodness. And he knew what to do with it in the bedroom. I flushed and forced those memories away.
There was gladness in Jeff’s blue eyes that told me he was happy to see me.
It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy to see Jeff. I was. I was always glad to see him. But my mind was whirring, wondering if Michael had worked out my history with his boss.
“You look beautiful.” Jeff perused my outfit.
I was wearing a vintage red pencil dress that accentuated every generous curve of my body, matching red platform peep-toes with a delicate ankle strap, and I wore my long dark hair in waves down my back. Bright red lipstick finished my not-quite-but-almost fifties pinup look. “Thanks. You look good too.” He did. He always did. “But who is manning the station with the sheriff and his detective here?”
He grinned at my teasing. “I was harassed into doing this and if I have to do it, why suffer alone?”
I bit my lip and peeked around his shoulder at Michael, who was glaring daggers at Jeff’s back. Michael didn’t throw out dirty looks willy-nilly.
Shit, he knew.
“He knows about us,” Jeff confirmed.
I studied him. “What do you know about Michael and me?”
“Not a lot. He’s pretty closemouthed. I know you know each other from Boston. That he’s here because of you. He mentioned he let you slip through his fingers once before and he wasn’t going to let it happen again.”
He’d said that? To Jeff?
“Jeff, I—”
“Is he the reason, Dahlia?”
I knew what he was asking. Was Michael the reason I’d broken things off with him? “Yes.”
“Then why are you here with me and he’s over there with Dana?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Only if you make it complicated.” He glanced over his shoulder before turning back to me with a playful smirk. “And it looks like Mike isn’t trying hard enough.” He bent his head to my ear, rested his hand on my hip, and whispered, “Maybe I should give him a little push.”
My eyes flew to Michael. His features were taut as he watched Jeff and me. Then quite abruptly, he nudged Dana aside to make his way toward us. Jeff had already retreated. My heart raced like a jackhammer.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Kell’s voice boomed over the PA system and stopped Michael in his tracks. “Welcome to Hartwell’s first-ever speed-dating event. I’ll now ask the ladies to take a seat on this side of the room”—he gestured to the chairs that had their backs to the entrance—“and the gentlemen to take the seats opposite. When the bell sounds, you can commence flirting. When the bell sounds again, we’ll ask the gentlemen to move one seat to their right.”
I shot Jeff a worried look. “I don’t think playing games with one of your employees is a particularly good idea, Jeff.”
“Who says I’m playing games?” His expression was hot.
Oh, great. Just what I needed. More unwanted male attention.
Why the hell had I let Kell talk me into this?
I avoided Michael as I crossed the room to take one of the last seats left. The men were already taking their seats, which meant Michael and Jeff were two of the last to do so as well. Jeff grabbed a chair four places to my left and Michael was three to my right.
My smile was pained as I scanned the guy across from me. He looked to be in his late to early forties, balding, skinny, and had a pinched, mouse-like countenance. His shirt was buttoned up to his throat, and I winced. Could he even breathe?
The bell rang, and Mousy Man spoke first. Loudly. “You’re not my type.”
My eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”
“I thought I’d put that out there, so we don’t waste any time here.”
Unsurprisingly, this was not the rudest thing a guy had said to me on a date. “I gather you’re only interested in women for their physical appearance?”
Mousy Man frowned. “No.”
“You didn’t even let me speak before you determined I wasn’t your type, so I must politely disagree.”
“Uh … well …” He shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just … I like my women thin.”
“Did I hear you correctly?” Michael said from my right.
He was apparently not paying attention to the woman across from him but listening in on my “date.”
“Michael,” I warned.
“Do you have a problem?” Mousy Man asked Michael.
Michael leaned past the guys next to him to glare at my date. “You watch your manners.”
Everyone on our side of the table grew quiet.
Then I heard Jeff pipe up. “Problem down there?”
Oh my God, kill me now.
“Michael, I can handle myself,” I hissed.
He ignored me and called down to Jeff. “Sheriff, we got a guy here with no manners.”
“Is that right? Well, I can see a couple guys in the room who didn’t get a seat,” Jeff said.
I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation because I’d put my forehead to the table in mortification and was blocking the room out.
“I can’t wait to get to him,” the woman next to me whispered. “I love a man with good manners. And God, those arms. Yum.”
I was officially in hell.
The scraping of chairs and the soft protests of Mousy Man brought my head up. Jace, a young bartender at Cooper’s, slid into the seat in his place, while Kell manhandled Mousy Man out of the room. I turned back to Jace and his cocky grin. “Hey, Dahlia. Sorry I’m late.” His eyes drifted over me. “You look hot.”
I rolled my eyes because Jace was the biggest flirt on the planet. “What are you doing here? Like you need help to get a date.”
“Like you need help to get a date,” he countered, and then leaned across the table conspiratorially. “So, what’s with the sheriff and the good detective ousting your last date?”
“He pretty much called me fat and was loud about it so they decided I’m a four-year-old who can’t handle herself.”
Jace nodded, his attention dipping downward. “Asshole. You’re not fat. You’re perfect.”
“Eyes off my boobs, Jace.”
His gaze drifted slowly upward. “Sorry. It’s just they’re right the—”
“I know. They’re right there.”
The bell rang before Jace could respond, and he winked at me before moving to the woman on his right, my left. The guy moving toward the vacant seat grinned at me, and I was about to return his open smile when Michael appeared and clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, this seat’s taken.”
He slid into the seat opposite me before the man could protest. We stared at each other like it was a contest while the guy floundered in our peripheral vision before eventually disappearing.
“That’s not how this works,” I said.
“She’s right,” the woman next to me piped in, a petulant tone to her voice. “You missed me entirely.”
Michael flicked her an impatient look and then turned back to me. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” I rebutted.
“Jeff coerced me into being his wingman. I didn’t realize it meant being his wingman while he was all over you.”
I cut him a dirty look. “I saw Dana keeping you company.”
“I haven’t touched her.”
“I know.” I sighed. “That’s why she’s still hounding you.”
“Can’t say the same for you and Jeff.”
“Not here, Michael.” I shook my head.
He leaned across the table, his voice low. �
��Just tell me one thing.”
Caught in his eyes, I found it impossible to look away. “What?”
“Is he the guy? The one who made you temporarily forget me?”
I winced, sorry I’d admitted that and even sorrier that Michael hadn’t forgotten. “That … came out wrong.”
“Well?”
“Michael …”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Hearing the hardness in his voice, I impulsively reached for his hand to stop his withdrawal. “It’s not what you think.”
He covered my hand with his other, and I shivered under his smoldering attention. There was no other word for it. He smoldered. But I was the one catching fire. “Is this your idea of fun?”
“Speed dating?” I scoffed. “No, I’m in hell.” I yanked my hand out of his, remembering his actions only minutes ago. “And for the record, I don’t need you to protect me from dipshits. You embarrassed me.”
“That little fucker is lucky I’m a police officer, or he’d have walked out of here with more than a red face. No one talks to you like that.”
I hated how conflicted he made me feel. His actions annoyed me, but his sentiment did not. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
“Yeah, too long.”
The bell rang, but Michael didn’t move. He kept his focus on my face and without looking away said to the guy hovering beside him, “Move along.”
After a moment of confusion, the man departed.
“Are you seriously going to stay here all night?”
He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. He wore a dark Henley that showcased his superb physique. The muscles in his arms flexed with his movement and my mouth went dry. Why couldn’t he be overly muscular and massive in a way I found off-putting? Why did he have to be that perfect amount of hard, delicious, well-maintained strength that suited his height and build? I wished he was naked so I could lick him.
Ugh. I scolded myself for the wayward thoughts.
“You’re ogling.” Amusement threaded his words.
I flushed at being caught and then narrowed my eyes in irritation. “You wore that shirt deliberately.”
Laughter spilled from his lips. “Men wear clothes because it’s the law. They don’t wear clothes deliberately.”
Things We Never Said: A Hart's Boardwalk Novel Page 25
