by Reese Ryan
There was a solid chance Dakota wouldn’t be interested in either. But now that they were both back in their small community, he didn’t want things to be awkward.
He’d give it a few minutes. Then he’d head over and order breakfast from the woman who still sent his heart into overdrive without even trying.
* * *
Dakota was surprised by how easily she fell back into the role of server at Lila’s Café, a job she’d held during her sophomore through senior years of high school. There was something comforting about meeting people here, with a wooden countertop between them. Where they couldn’t pull her aside and ply her with questions.
The breakfast crowd had slowed down a bit by the time she’d taken over to give Lila Gayle a break. Which made Lila’s booth a good place to hide for the rest of the morning.
“Dakota, would you be a dear and get me a refill of coffee?” Mrs. Anderson asked after they’d had all of the expected conversation.
Great to see you.
You’re looking a bit thin.
Sorry about your mother.
Her mother had been gone five years. Still, that last bit hit her hard, no matter how many times people had expressed their condolences over the loss of her mother.
“Right away, Mrs. Anderson.” Dakota refilled the woman’s mug, then turned to replace the carafe.
“I’d love a cup before you put that away.”
The familiar voice made her pulse race. Still, when she turned around, seeing him felt surreal. She inhaled deeply and clenched the hand at her side as she bit back the resentment rising in her chest.
“Hello, Dakota.” His mouth curved in a soft smile, while his dark sunglasses shielded his eyes. “It’s good to see you.”
“Dexter.” She forced the name caught in her throat past her lips. Grabbing a sleeved paper cup, she filled it with coffee. “What can I get for you today?”
“What’s good?” he asked in the same low, sexy growl that once had the power to turn her inside out.
Not today, Satan. Not today.
“Today’s special is French toast.” She pulled a pad and pencil from the pocket of her apron with all of the indifference she could muster.
“Not what I asked.” He didn’t touch the laminated menu in front of him. Instead, he slid off his shades and set them on the counter. His gaze was like hot lasers melting her very core. “I’d like to know what you think is good.”
Not running into the jerk who dumped me while I’m wearing a grease-stained apron. That would be good.
She scribbled quickly on her notepad, then met his gaze. “Waffles, sausage patties, an extra side of bacon, and hash browns. Coming right up.”
His eyes widened with surprise and then he chuckled. A broad grin spread across his annoyingly handsome face.
Why couldn’t he be balding, sporting a spare tire, and missing a few teeth?
Dakota ripped the ticket off the pad and clipped it to the stainless-steel order wheel. She spun it toward Leo, who was manning the grill, then turned back to Dex.
God, he’s handsome.
More than she remembered. But then, he’d been nineteen when she saw him last. But now…She drew in a shaky breath. Her knees wavered and a warmth, which she preferred not to acknowledge, traveled the length of her spine.
Dexter’s dark-brown skin looked smooth and warm. His dark eyes glinted with amusement. His sensual lips, framed by a well-trimmed mustache and a neat beard, quirked in a half smile. And he smelled divine, like citrus and sandalwood.
If it weren’t for the small matter of hating Dexter Roberts’s guts, she’d be inclined to put him on a plate, sop him up with a warm biscuit, then wash him down with an ice-cold glass of sweet tea.
Dakota shuddered inwardly. The quiet, confident, magnetic appeal Dexter had possessed in high school—what Sin had dubbed “the Dex Factor”—was clearly still intact. He’d only been there five whole minutes and he was already driving her insane. But she was older now. Wiser. And in case she’d forgotten the dire consequences of trusting a handsome man with a disarming smile, Marcello had certainly reminded her.
“Your order will be up shortly. More coffee?”
“More coffee would be great.” He slid the cup toward her. “But what I’d really like is a chance to talk.”
Dexter had never been big on talking. He was the strong and silent type who listened and observed a lot more often than he spoke. Especially around people he didn’t know. When he finally opened up to her she was delighted that she’d broken through the wall with which he seemed to surround himself. It had been a coup back then. But she wasn’t interested in whatever it was that Dexter Roberts had to say now.
“I’m kind of busy.” Dakota lifted one shoulder in a mock apology as she refilled his cup. She replaced the carafe on its warmer.
He surveyed the empty counter and dragged a hand across his forehead. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
“Like you made things easy for me when you dumped me?” Her voice wavered and her cheeks stung.
So much for my fantasy of playing it cool, if we ever crossed paths again.
“Dakota, I…I’m sorry that I—”
“Forget it, Dex. We don’t need to talk about it. Ever.” Dakota moved to the other end of the counter, thankful that a customer had approached.
She’d made the mistake of revealing that she was still hurt by his rejection. But she wouldn’t give Dexter the satisfaction of knowing how shaken she was by seeing him.
Now, if only she could convince her hands and knees to stop wavering.
Chapter Four
Dex peered over his cup at Dakota as he sipped his coffee. His heart slammed against his chest at the sight of the woman who’d taken a huge chunk of his heart with her when she left Holly Grove Island for good.
He aimed to get it back. One way or another.
Dakota cast a nervous glance in his direction as she took another customer’s order. He lowered his cup and smiled. She returned her attention to the other customer and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
He set his cup down, hope slowly flooding his chest.
A few minutes later, Dakota set his food in front of him. “Here you are. Waffles, sausage, bacon, and hash browns. The Dexter Roberts Special.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.
“You remembered.” He smiled. “I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be,” she replied. “I also remember exactly what Old Man Riley ordered every morning.” She folded her arms, her expression hardened.
Dexter’s eyes were trained on her mouth. He’d always loved those lips. They’d been soft and warm and always tasted of cherry cola or bubble gum.
He still vividly recalled the taste of her lips and the feel of her incredibly soft skin on that warm summer night. His pulse elevated at the memory of tugging her lower lip gently between his as he’d kissed her. He cleared his throat. “Old Man Riley died, you know. Couple years back.”
“I—I hadn’t heard,” she stammered, her defensive posture easing as she dropped her arms to her sides. “I’m surprised my dad didn’t mention it.”
“Oliver hasn’t been the same since he lost your mother.” Dex raised his eyes to hers, his heart breaking for her. She winced at the mention of her mother. The two of them had been close. “I’m sorry about your mom, Dakota. Ms. Madeline was a remarkable woman. She had such a beautiful, giving spirit. We all miss her like crazy.”
“Thanks.” She fiddled with the strings of her apron to fill the awkward silence between them. When she settled her gaze on his again, her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I heard you’re only here for a few weeks,” Dexter called to her retreating back. He’d hoped Dakota would hear him out, allow him to apologize. He’d half expected that she wouldn’t, and he’d respect that. But this was something she needed to hear. “Oliver needs you, Dakota.”
She turned back to him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s lonely, and he hasn’t taken losing your mother very well. He misses your mom, but he also really misses you and Shayna,” he said, referring to her older sister.
She shifted her eyes to a woman who sat at the other end of the counter, sipping her coffee and awaiting her breakfast order. The woman, who Dex didn’t recognize, watched them as if they were a soap opera.
Dakota returned her gaze to him and leaned in, her voice hushed. “I don’t want to talk about this here. I’m off duty in a couple of hours. We can talk then. Somewhere discreet. I don’t want the whole town thinking…” She let her words trail off, then sighed.
“How about that park bench at the other end of the beach? The one where I…” He cringed when she narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms.
Asking Dakota to meet him at the spot where he’d asked her to be his girlfriend was a truly stupid idea. But it’d been the first place that had come to mind. It was an easy walk from the booth, would have very little traffic since most of the folks on the island were at the Fourth of July festivities, and was a spot that was familiar to both of them.
Still, suggesting it as a meeting spot was a complete blunder.
Way to go, Dex. Way to go.
A little more than two hours later, Dexter watched Dakota stalk toward the bench where he sat. A trail of smoke practically billowed from her ears.
She was pissed. At him.
Why would he expect anything else after the way he’d ended things between them? It pained him even now to remember the hurt look on her face. He’d broken limbs and torn his ACL playing college football. Nothing had ever hurt him more than what he’d done to her that day. He’d broken her heart. But he’d done it for both of their sakes.
Dex doubted Dakota would see things that way, so it was a topic better left for another day. Right now he’d focus on the issue at hand: Oliver.
But focusing on anything other than how enticing Dakota looked on this hot summer day required a Herculean effort. Her warm brown skin glowed with a light sheen of perspiration. The neckline of her slim denim dress hugged her full breasts and revealed a hint of cleavage. Strappy, black platform sandals highlighted the length of her incredibly sexy legs. A black bandanna held back the beach waves that bounced behind her.
Dex swallowed hard as Dakota got closer. He needed to take it down a notch and play this cool. Starting with shutting his gaping mouth.
* * *
Dakota’s skin felt as if it were on fire beneath Dexter’s intense gaze.
Only Dex would have the nerve to ask her to meet him here. The very place where their relationship shifted from being friends to something more. If he hadn’t been such a jerk to her at the end, she might’ve considered it sweet that Dex remembered the significance of their spot at the far end of Holly Grove Island Park.
She plopped down on the bench, leaving as much physical space as possible between them. Had this bench always been this small? Maybe it only appeared so because Dexter was taller now and his shoulders were broader. Or maybe it was because her hips weren’t as narrow as they’d been the last time he’d placed his large hands on them and pulled her closer.
Dakota squeezed her eyes shut and huffed.
Why did I agree to meet with him?
She rubbed at the goose bumps popping up on her arms, partly because a cool breeze chose that moment to blow off the Atlantic Ocean. Partly because a chill ran through her when his eyes met hers. But this wasn’t about her and Dexter.
“You said my dad needs me. What did you mean?”
This wasn’t a social call. The only reason she’d been compelled to meet Dexter Roberts here, of all places, was because of her father.
“I'm worried about Oliver,” Dexter said. “He hasn’t been himself since he lost your mom, and now there’s the decline in his health.”
Dakota swallowed hard, a knot tightening in her gut. She wanted to tell Dexter to mind his own business because her dad was fine, but the truth was she was worried about him, too.
“A decline in his health?” She echoed Dexter’s ominous words. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and the knot in her stomach cinched tighter. “I mean, I know he’s lost a lot of weight in the last six months, but he said that he wants to be healthier, so he can live long enough for me to give him some grandkids since Shayna hasn’t.”
“Sounds like your dad.” Dexter chuckled. “So how are Shayna and…”
“Howard,” she supplied. “They’re both doing fine.” According to Shay.
But when they spoke by phone, once or twice a month, her sister seemed unhappy, despite insisting everything was fine. Dakota had wanted to fly to California to see for herself, but Shay was always too busy. Not that any of that was Dexter’s business.
“Are you saying my dad is sick?” Just saying the words caused a flutter of panic in her chest, but her heart rate doubled when Dexter shifted his gaze from hers rather than answering. “Oh my God, my dad isn’t…dying, is he?” She whispered the offending word, hating to even put something so awful out into the universe.
Dexter covered her hand with his much larger one. “No, sweet—” He swallowed the word. “No, but Oliver is diabetic. Did he tell you that?”
She shook her head, her eyes burning with tears. “How do you know that when he hasn’t told me or Shay?”
“He didn’t tell me. I saw him buying diabetic supplies at the pharmacy.”
“Why would he keep something so important from us?” she whispered the words aloud to herself, but Dexter responded anyway.
“He probably didn’t want to worry you.” Dex’s reassuring tone drew her attention to his warm smile. “Lila Gayle’s been fussin’ over him, much as Oliver will allow. Seems to have worked. He’s lost a lot of weight, which is great for his condition. But that limp of his has gotten a lot worse. We’re all worried about him, but you know your dad.”
Dakota’s heart ached. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing her father, too. Not when the loss of her mother still felt so fresh. She glanced down at the hand Dexter was still holding. Dakota allowed herself the momentary indulgence of reveling in the familiar warmth and comfort of his touch. It had always felt so reassuring when Dexter held her hand in his. Like she was safe. Protected. Loved.
A teenage fantasy back then. A mere illusion now. One she wouldn’t fall for again.
She slipped her hand from beneath his.
“I know Holly Grove Island is just a pit stop to whatever you plan to do next. But Oliver needs you right now, Dakota.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
He winced, as if he was disappointed that she needed to ask. “I care about Oliver…and about you. I never stopped caring about you, Dakota.”
His words felt heavy. Like a living, breathing thing that had taken up residence in the space between them. Her face and neck suddenly felt hot.
How dare he fix his mouth to say something like that? To pretend that he still cared. It was Dex who had broken up with her during Christmas break his first year at Texas A&M.
She’d planned to follow him there, though it meant giving up her dream of going to NYU’s journalism school. Because she couldn’t bear the thought of spending four long years apart, she’d been willing to defer that dream. Perhaps go to grad school at NYU instead. Or move to New York once his pro football career had ended. She’d been prepared to make that sacrifice because she loved him. But then he’d broken her heart.
Dakota still remembered everything about that night nearly two decades ago. White Christmases were a rarity in the Outer Banks. But that night had started off perfect. The air was cold and crisp. Fluffy white snowflakes fell to the ground but melted on contact. She remembered the green sweater Dex had been wearing and the red peacoat she’d worn with the red, white, and pink scarf Dex’s mother had crocheted for her the year before.
They’d been in the middle of exchanging gifts when he’d suddenly blurted out that they were both too young to be tied down. He wanted
the freedom to see other people.
She’d been devastated. Thinking of that cold night a lifetime ago still made her heart feel as if it would explode. Dakota bit the inside of her cheek and steeled her spine, sitting taller. She’d been so sure she was past all of this, but suddenly the wound Dexter had inflicted that night felt as raw as ever. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he’d hurt her.
“I appreciate you telling me.” It pained her to feel even slightly indebted to Dexter Roberts, but she was grateful he’d informed her about her father’s health issues.
She couldn’t help feeling guilty about staying away so long, leaving her father to grieve her mother on his own because she couldn’t handle the painful memories lurking around every corner: In every single room of their house. At the town gazebo where her mother had sung Christmas carols with the church choir. On the beach where she and her mom would lie in the sun and trade gossip like old girlfriends. At the ice cream shop where her mother would occasionally indulge herself by having two scoops of mint chocolate chip ice cream piled high with whipped cream.
If she needed to extend her stay on Holly Grove Island to see after her father, she could certainly spare a few months. Besides, lying low a bit longer would put more distance between her and the scandal that had tanked her career.
“If it was my mom, I’d want to know.” He shrugged.
“Well, thank you, just the same.” She stood, turning to leave.
“One more thing, Dakota,” he called out, stopping her in her tracks. “I don’t know what your eventual plans are, but if you decide to stay on Holly Grove Island for a while, a mutual friend could use your help.”
Dakota narrowed her eyes at him. “Who’s the mutual friend?”
“Nick Washington. He’s now the director of sales and marketing at the new hotel on the island. He’s never taken on a job this big before. You know Nick—he’s smart and capable, but also a bit cocky. I think he’s starting to feel like he’s in over his head, but he’s too proud to admit it. He needs confident, experienced people on his team. So far the pool has been kind of shallow. And the pay is awfully good.”