by Elle Kennedy
“Oh.”
She was still trying to wrap her head around that when Dylan grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “What, did you think you were here as our live-in sex slave?”
“Well, no, but…”
“This is more than sex, Claire.” His vivid green eyes shone with sincerity. “Don’t you get that?”
Emotion clogged her throat, then damn near suffocated her when she glanced at Aidan and glimpsed the earnest intensity in his eyes.
“It’s more than sex,” Aidan echoed huskily. “Much, much more.”
“You sure you don’t want me to stick around?” Dylan opened Claire’s door for her, then got into the driver’s seat.
“No, this is something I need to do alone,” she answered, but her tone lacked any and all enthusiasm.
He pulled out of the rental agency parking lot and merged into traffic. It was just past eleven in the morning, a bright, sunny day that didn’t match his cloudy mood. He was anxious about seeing his mom, anxious about Claire seeing Chris. If there’d been a way to avoid either confrontation, Dylan would have jumped on it.
They didn’t say much as he navigated the city’s never-ending hills and twisty turns. The sun was so bright Dylan popped his shades on, then chuckled when he saw Claire’s pink cheeks.
She sighed happily. “You look so damn hot in those Aviators.”
“Yeah? Well, you look so damn hot in anything.” He winked at her. “And in nothing at all.”
He thought she looked especially cute today in her faded blue jeans and white V-neck sweater. Her hair was up in a messy twist, there wasn’t a drop of makeup on her face, and she wore no jewelry except for the plain silver watch around one delicate wrist. He loved that about her, how she didn’t put an obscene amount of time or effort into her appearance. She didn’t need to—her understated, fresh-faced look only made her all the more beautiful.
“Hey, I just realized, your ears aren’t pierced,” he said.
“I know. I always wanted to get it done, but my dad wouldn’t let me,” she admitted. “And then when I got older, I just forgot about it.”
“You still planning on seeing your folks after you talk to Chris?”
“Of course. My mom would murder me if I came to the city and didn’t visit them.”
Dylan stopped at a red light and reached over to rest his hand on her thigh. She smiled at the physical contact and placed her small palm over his knuckles.
“So then I’ll pick you up from their house later?” he asked.
“Sounds like a plan.” With her free hand, she grabbed her phone from her green canvas purse and checked the screen. “No further texts from Chris. I assume he’s meeting me at the apartment at noon like we arranged yesterday.”
Dylan tensed. Rather than calling, Chris had contacted the woman he’d left at the altar via text message last night, asking her to meet. Claire hadn’t told his brother she’d spent the last month in San Diego, but Dylan knew that tidbit would come out today when the two of them spoke.
Again, he couldn’t muster up much guilt over the situation. He knew Chris wouldn’t be happy when he discovered Claire and Dylan were involved, but after everything his brother had done, Dylan didn’t have any sympathy for the guy.
“I’m going to pack another bag when I’m there,” she went on. “I didn’t bring any work clothes with me for the honeymoon.” She paused, bit her lip. “I guess I should pack up my other things too, figure out with Chris who gets what when it comes to furniture and dishes and all that stuff.”
Dylan wondered if Chris would want to keep the apartment. Probably. He remembered his brother raving about how prestigious the location was and how one of the other associates lived in the same building.
For a moment he felt angry on Claire’s behalf—because really, Chris should be the one moving out—but then he let it go. If Claire kept the apartment, that meant she’d be staying in San Francisco, and that was the last thing Dylan wanted. He was praying this three-week extension they’d gotten would lead to an even longer stay on Claire’s part, but he was hesitant to raise the issue. He knew how much Claire loved her job, and he could never ask her to give it up for him and Aidan.
“It’ll all work out,” he assured her. “Doesn’t matter who gets what. Those are just things, and things don’t matter.”
She smiled dryly. “They do to your brother. Knowing him, he’ll want to debate every last item.”
The sedan came to a stop in front of a tall, well-maintained building. “Here we are,” Dylan said as he put the car in park. “Should I wish you luck?”
“Probably.” She sighed. “This is not gonna be fun. I’ll cab it to my parents’ house when I’m done here, and you can grab me whenever you’re done with Shanna. Oh, and tell her I say hi.”
“Sounds good, and I will.” He leaned over the center console and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Good luck. And give my brother hell—he fucking deserves it.”
Her amber-brown eyes gleamed. “Damn right he does.”
Fifteen minutes later, Dylan was driving across the Golden Gate Bridge into Marin County. With the radio blasting one of his favorite Nirvana songs, he headed east toward San Rafael. As sunny as it was, the temperature was only in the low sixties, and a cool breeze drifted in from the open window. He breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the solitude. Living with a roommate meant he didn’t always have a chance to be alone with his thoughts, and sometimes he craved some Dylan-time.
It wasn’t long before he reached his quaint, tree-lined street and stopped in the driveway of the ranch-style house he’d grown up in.
The house is mother had almost lost due to her gambling addiction.
Jesus.
Shutting off the engine, he grabbed his mom’s Christmas gift from the backseat, which Claire had taken painstaking care to wrap. The red-and-white-striped paper and big red bow made him smile. He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought that Claire didn’t like and respect his mother.
With the gift in hand, he walked up the cobblestone path toward the front door. He let himself in without knocking, immediately struck by a wave of nostalgia as he stood in the front hall and inhaled the familiar smell of home.
“Mom?” he called.
“In here, sweetheart!”
He followed her voice into the living room, his gaze settling on the beautifully decorated tree in the corner of the room. When she’d called to wish him a merry Christmas, Shanna had told him their neighbors Charlie and Beth had helped her set up and decorate the tree, and he suddenly had the urge to go next door and thank the sweet, retired couple for helping Shanna out. Sometimes he hated the thought of his mom living alone here, with him all the way in San Diego and Chris wrapped up in his own conceited bubble.
“I’m so glad you’re home!” With a beaming smile, Shanna hurried over and wrapped her arms around him.
Dylan hugged her back, marveling over how petite she was. Her blonde head barely reached his collarbone.
“Happy holidays, Mom,” he said gruffly.
“Happy holidays, sweetheart.” She tugged on his hand, her green eyes shining happily. “Come. Sit. Tell me how you spent your holidays.”
“First I want to know all about your trip to Palm Springs.”
They settled on the oversized, peach-colored couch, and Shanna spent the next few minutes outlining everything she’d done at her friend’s ranch. She looked tanned and relaxed, and so happy that he felt like a total ass for the pain he was about to cause her.
But he couldn’t pretend everything was okay, and after they’d chatted for nearly thirty minutes, Dylan took a deep breath and finally addressed the giant elephant in the room that Shanna was oblivious to.
“Mom,” he started. Then he stopped. Cleared his throat, tried again. “Mom, there’s something we need to talk about.”
Her pale eyebrows drew together. “What is it? Is everything okay?”
“No, it isn’t. I…I know what’s been going on ar
ound here. Claire told me everything.”
Shanna looked stricken for a second. She swallowed, then pasted on a blank look. “What do you mean?”
“Please don’t lie to me.” He released a shaky exhalation. “You and Chris have been lying to me for more than a year. So please, just stop.”
“Dylan—”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the gambling?”
Shanna hesitated. Swallowed again. And then her entire face collapsed and her green eyes filled with tears. “Because I was ashamed.”
If there was one thing guaranteed to trigger his hero complex, it was a female’s tears. Especially his mother’s.
“Ah, shit. Damn it, Mom, come here.” Dylan put his arm around her trembling shoulders and held her close, his heart breaking at the sound of her quiet sobs.
She pressed her face against his chest, her voice coming out muffled. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I was so mortified. I never thought something like that could happen to me. You know me, Dylan, I’m careful with money, I don’t make impulse purchases or buy extravagant things. I…” The tears continued to fall, soaking the front of his sky-blue polo shirt. “I was embarrassed and ashamed and angry at myself for screwing up so badly.”
Sighing, he smoothed a hand over her hair. “What happened, Mom? How did it get so out of control like that?”
She lifted her head and wiped her wet eyes with the sleeve of her thin red sweater. “What did Claire tell you?”
“That you went to the casino with friends, caught the gambling bug and everything went downhill from there.”
A weak smile flitted over her lips. “Yes, that sounds about right.”
“I’d still like to hear it from you,” he said quietly.
After a long moment, she nodded, and the whole story spilled out. It was exactly like Claire had said, only much, much worse coming from his mom’s lips.
She told him about her increased visits to the casino, how overjoyed she’d felt when she’d won and how desperate she was when she started losing. She told him about the withdrawals she’d made from her savings account, the mutual funds she’d sold, the second mortgage she’d secured. She told him about missing work, lying to her boss, using up all her personal days and then eventually not showing up altogether.
When she got to the part about how she’d finally had to confide in Chris because the bank had sent her a foreclosure notice, Dylan’s chest tightened with both sympathy and anger.
“You should have told me,” he muttered.
“I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see the disappointed look on your face, the one you’re wearing now. You’ve always been my biggest supporter, and you gave me so much encouragement when I decided to go back to work after your father died.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Sam would be horrified if he knew what I’d done.”
Dylan’s throat started to feel tight. “No, he wouldn’t. Dad would have recognized that you had a problem, and he would have stood by you. Don’t ever doubt that.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I really believe that,” he said firmly.
Shanna’s breathing was shallow, but when she spoke again, her voice sounded steadier. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you the truth.”
“Yes, but I understand why you didn’t. You were scared. And between me and Chris, he’s definitely the one in a financial position to help.” Dylan’s tone became stern. “With that said, I need you to tell me exactly how serious this is financially, so I know how much money to start sending you every month.”
Her gaze flew to his. “What? No, Dylan. You don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to do that.”
“Tough shit.”
She raised her eyebrows and shot him that disapproving Mom look he’d been on the receiving end of many times growing up.
“Tough cookies,” he amended guiltily. “I’m serious, though. I’m involved in this now, and I’m doing my part whether you like it or not.”
Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “All right.”
“Good. Now before we get into all the unpleasant money stuff…” He reached for the present he’d left on the weathered pine coffee table and held it out. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”
Her radiant smile got him all choked up again, and when he saw her awed expression after she removed the glass angel from its box, he was feeling teary-eyed himself.
“Oh, it’s beautiful.” Her gaze drifted to the glass cabinet across the room, which held all the other angels she’d been collecting since before Dylan was even born. Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him so tightly he could hardly breathe. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said through the lump in his throat.
They both fell silent, until Shanna finally cleared her throat. “Why don’t I make us some coffee? You can open some presents, and then…then we can discuss everything else that needs to be discussed.”
“Sounds good. I’ll keep you company in the kitchen.”
They had only taken two steps toward the doorway when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out and saw Claire’s number, then turned to his mom. “Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll join you in a sec.”
He waited until Shanna was out of earshot before answering with a soft, “Hey, honey, how did it go with Chris?”
“It didn’t,” was the curt response.
“What do you mean, it didn’t?”
“I mean, he didn’t show up.” Claire sounded so incensed her voice was trembling.
Battling a rush of disbelief, Dylan lowered his voice. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Yep, he texted five minutes after I got to the apartment, saying he received a last-minute invitation to have lunch with Lowenstein at some cigar bar and he simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity. But he was considerate enough to speak to me via Bluetooth while he drove there.”
Disgust and amazement mingled in Dylan’s blood. “So what did he say?”
“The same thing he told you the day at the wedding, how he and I weren’t a good match, we were making a mistake, yada yada.”
“And what did you say?”
“I agreed with him and told him I’d been having the same doubts.”
“Okay, that sounds cordial enough. Was that it?”
Her long pause was all the answer he needed.
“Aw, fuck, tell me what happened, Claire.”
A sigh rippled over the line. “Well, we talked about the apartment for a few minutes. He said he’d like to keep living there. I said fine, I didn’t care.”
“And?”
“He asked how I spent my time off and how my holidays were. I said I was in San Diego with you and that the holidays were great.”
“And?”
“And then I told him I knew that he’d brought another woman on what was supposed to be our honeymoon.”
Dylan held his breath. “And?”
“And he went ballistic! You should have heard him, Dylan. He got insanely defensive. He didn’t deny it, but he refused to talk about it either. It was so fucking infuriating!” She huffed out another breath. “He felt no remorse over it, and he didn’t even apologize or admit it was insensitive to take someone on our trip! Oh, and then he accused me of sleeping with you.”
The breath he’d been holding slipped out in a ragged burst. “And?”
“And…well, I may have flown into a bit of a rage and said some things I shouldn’t have.”
Dylan didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. “Oh, honey, what’d you do?”
“I yelled for a bit. Called him an ass and a prick and said I was ridiculously glad I didn’t marry him. So then he accused me again of sleeping with you, and I was like, hell yeah, I am, and I told him he was half the man that you are and…um…” Her voice was barely audible now. “Well, I may or may not have said that you were a million times better in bed. And then I hung up on him.”
Laughter won out, tickling his throat before burs
ting out of his mouth. “Fuck, Claire, I really do love that fiery redhead temper of yours.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Of course not. I mean, I wish you hadn’t goaded him like that, but I understand why you lost your cool, all things considered.”
“Still. I’m sorry, Dylan. I shouldn’t have said what I did. But…but he bailed on me again! He didn’t even have the decency to talk to me in person, and I guess I just flipped out.” Claire swore softly. “Whatever. It’s over. I’m done with him and I have no desire to talk to him again.” She paused. “How did it go with your mom?”
“Good,” he admitted. “We’re not done talking yet, so I’ll tell you about it later. When should I swing by your parents’ place?” He knew Claire’s folks lived in Fairfax, a small town west of here and only a ten-minute drive.
“I’m about to call a cab now, and I know my mom wants me to stick around for lunch, so maybe in a couple of hours? I’ll call you when I have a better idea.”
“Cool. And try not to let this latest bullshit with Chris upset you, okay?” His voice lowered seductively. “I’ll totally kiss it and make it better when I see you.”
She laughed. “I’m holding you to that, sailor.”
No sooner had he hung up than the back of his neck tingled. Dylan spun around and found his mother standing in the doorway holding two ceramic mugs.
“So.” Shanna’s lips puckered in amusement. “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s been keeping secrets.”
Fuck. Busted. He didn’t bother asking how much she’d heard, because that parting line he’d tossed to Claire pretty much said it all.
“Mom—”
“You’re involved with Claire?” To his surprise, she sounded more curious than anything.
“Yes,” he confessed.
“Does your brother know?”
“He does now.”
“I see.” With a brisk nod, his mother handed him one of the steaming mugs and strolled back to the couch. “You can open your presents later. First I want you to sit down and tell me everything.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I’m serious,” Cash insisted. “I could totally do it.”