Finally, he seemed to snap out of his daze, and he blinked at her and then began walking. “No big deal. Don’t give it another thought. There are people who live like that, but right now, that’s not me. I’m perfectly content to have a quiet weekend at home.”
At the checkout, they divvied up their orders and paid and then made their way to his car. Paige was too afraid to say anything, so instead she sang along to the radio.
Back at the parking garage, he pulled up beside her car and parked. Her tire was still flat, so she hadn’t missed the repair guy. With a sigh, she turned to him. “Thanks for killing time with me. You were right. It was much better than going up to the office. No doubt by now I would be deeply entrenched in things I was hoping to get away from.”
He gave her a small smile. “No problem.” Looking around, he seemed to be considering his next words. “We can grab another coffee or something. You know, since they haven’t called to say they’re on the way yet.”
It was a tempting offer, but she felt bad about monopolizing his time. Although she could argue that she was using the time to get to know him and make sure he’d be a good fit for her project, but…that seemed a bit wrong.
“Thanks, but…I know you’ve got a trunk full of perishables. And besides, I’m sure they’ll be along soon.”
As if on cue, her cell phone rang, and two minutes later, she confirmed that a truck would arrive within thirty minutes. She relayed the info to Dylan.
“Well, I feel bad leaving you in the parking lot,” he said, shifting in his seat so he could face her. “I have a feeling if no one’s watching, you’ll go work.”
Was she that transparent?
“Maybe…but by the time we transfer my groceries and I check emails on my phone, they’ll probably be here. I can hang in my car for a few minutes and not be tempted to go upstairs.”
“I don’t know,” he said teasingly, but then he shut off the car and opened the door. “I think it wouldn’t take much for you to get annoyed with waiting and go inside.”
Okay, yes. Yes, she was that transparent.
Paige climbed from the car and met him at the trunk and it didn’t take long to move her groceries.
Like, less than a minute.
Dylan shut his trunk and then leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest as he studied her. “Look, far be it from me to tell you how to spend your time or whether you should work or not work. All I’m saying is I don’t mind hanging out if it will keep you from…you know.”
They both chuckled, and for a minute, Paige considered asking him about his career, so she could plan the campaign. Would that be wrong? Inappropriate? Could she—
“Paige? What are you still doing here? Daisy said you left hours ago,” Ariel said as she made her way toward them.
Great. Now she could feel small and insignificant with an audience. Awesome.
“Oh, um…I’ve got a flat and I’m waiting for AAA,” Paige replied and then noticed her sister staring at Dylan. “Ariel, this is—”
“You’re Dylan Anders, right?” Ariel said, ignoring Paige’s attempt at an introduction. “The guitar player?”
Nodding, Dylan glanced at Paige before extending a hand to Ariel. “Bass player, but yeah. And you are?”
“Ariel Blake,” she said smoothly, shaking his hand briefly. “What are you—?”
“Dylan stopped by about the campaign,” Paige said quickly. “Apparently your invitation got to him and he came by the office to talk about participating.”
A serene yet knowing smile played at Ariel’s lips as she looked at her sister. “You see? Just because it wasn’t your idea didn’t mean it was a bad idea.”
“I never said it was a bad idea, Ariel,” Paige murmured, completely mortified that her sister would choose to have this discussion in front of Dylan. “You just sprang it on me. I would have appreciated a heads-up.”
“Either way, I think people will be way more interested in hearing people who are relevant to pop culture, instead of a bunch of literary nerds no one recognizes,” Ariel said and then turned to Dylan. “You agree, don’t you? If you were a kid struggling to read, who would you rather take advice from—a famous guitar player or…or…that Shakespeare guy? I mean, what’s he going to say to kids about reading?”
“Um…probably nothing since he’s dead,” Paige pointed out.
“Exactly,” Ariel agreed, totally missing the sarcasm in Paige’s tone. “He has no idea what today’s teens want to read. But Dylan will be able to relate to them. And he’s got more going for him than anyone else on your list.”
“He does?”
“I do?” Dylan asked, his voice a bit squeaky.
Ariel looked between the two of them and nodded. “Absolutely! We can talk about how important reading is to a musician—you know, because he has to read the music.”
Paige slowly closed her eyes and lowered her head in embarrassment, catching the smirk on Dylan’s face as she did so. Didn’t her sister realize that what she said made no sense whatsoever? She had to fight the urge to laugh.
“And then there’s the angle on how he needs to have more advanced reading and writing skills to write music.”
Oh God. She was still talking, wasn’t she?
“Ariel,” Paige said, interrupting her, “I don’t think you need to—”
“But more than anything,” Ariel went on, ignoring Paige’s words, “Dylan can show teens that reading is cool.”
Oh. Okay. “Well, that’s true,” Paige agreed, seeing the somewhat roundabout way her sister came to this conclusion. As a musician, most kids—and some adults—would look at Dylan’s profession as something cool and to be envied, and if he could impress upon them his own love of reading, it might encourage them. She looked over at Dylan and saw him almost sag with relief. Was he as thankful as she was that Ariel was done?
“Anyway, it’s something to consider. I need to go. Dennis is taking me to dinner, and I don’t want to be late.” Ariel turned and extended her hand to Dylan again. “It was nice meeting you and I hope to see you as part of the campaign.”
“Thanks,” he said, shaking her hand. “I hope to be a part of it.”
With a little wave, Ariel started to leave, and Paige’s mind raced about how she could end this conversation with Dylan without offering him a part right now. She was seriously considering it, but she needed a bit more research.
Ariel climbed into her sporty little red Porsche and backed out. When she came up alongside them, she lowered her window, her gaze on Dylan. “By the way, I meant to tell you that I hope you’re doing okay. I hear rehab can be a struggle. It’s good to see you out and about.” She paused and smiled. “And I spoke with your manager, and we’re totally cool with you doing this as part of your community service. I’m sure Paige will sign off on whatever you need. Take care!” And with another little wave, she was gone.
Paige felt a little…shocked. Dazed.
Betrayed.
She looked over at Dylan and saw he was frozen to the spot, his gaze wary.
As it should be, she thought to herself.
Why had no one mentioned this to her? How had she not known? And dammit, why was her sister so completely oblivious and insensitive that she thought it was okay to drop that bombshell here, like that, and right in front of Dylan?
No! Don’t think about Dylan’s feelings, she chided herself. Think about yours! Not only had Ariel gone and messed with her plans, but she was also doing it by asking addicts to help her out? What kind of message was that going to send to people?
“You…you were in rehab?” she asked cautiously.
Dylan nodded.
“For…?”
“Alcohol. Drunk driving. There was an accident. I went and—”
“Was anyone killed?” she asked, hating both the tremble and disgust in her voice.
“So all this today—the coming here and schmoozing me—it was to guarantee that you could check community service off your list?”
He seemed to stiffen and Paige could see the anger in his eyes. “It’s not like that.”
Like she could believe him now. “Right. Whatever,” she said with a huff and was saved from saying anything else by the arrival of the AAA truck. There was no point in hiding how she felt. She couldn’t. “Excuse me.” Rather than say anything else to Dylan, Paige greeted the driver and showed him her car. With any luck, Dylan would take the hint that their conversation was over and leave.
Unfortunately, five minutes later, when she looked over her shoulder, he was still there, leaning arrogantly against his car, arms still crossed. He thought he could wait her out? Fine, she thought. He can stand there all night if he wants to, but once my tire is fixed, I’m out of here.
And she wouldn’t give Dylan Anders a second thought.
Chapter 3
He knew the instant Paige had completely written him off. She had a very expressive face, and she didn’t even try to hide the disdain she was feeling toward him. Well, he had a surprise for her—he wasn’t feeling too kindly toward her either. It was one thing to judge a person when you had all the facts, but it was another to do it when you knew nothing!
Why he was surprised, he couldn’t say. After all, he was used to people judging him, but usually they had good reason to. One flippant comment from her sister, and all of a sudden the camaraderie they had established this afternoon was gone? What did that say for the kind of person she was?
And why should he care? From the beginning, he hadn’t been interested in doing this. He’d told Mick so. The best thing for him to do would be to move on.
It probably wouldn’t be hard to find a way to get his hours in without being made to feel worse about himself than he already did. Hell, if he looked hard enough, Dylan had no doubt he could find a place or a cause that would love to have him—even be grateful for him—and then he’d be able to tell Miss Paige Walters to kiss his ass and good luck with her boring campaign.
That had him laughing a little—imagining the look on her face if he said that to her. It would be the most satisfying thing to happen to him in months.
“Thank you so much,” Paige was saying to the AAA driver. “I appreciate your help. I had no idea how to go about finding the leak.”
“You need to take the car in and get the tire replaced. The patch is all fine and good as a temporary fix, but it’s not a long-term solution.”
“I’ll take it in on Monday,” she replied. “And again, thank you.”
Dylan watched as she signed some paperwork and then took out some cash to tip the man. With a word of thanks, the AAA representative turned and seemed to notice Dylan.
And then he noticed Dylan.
Great.
“Oh, man! You’re Dylan Anders, right?”
It would be pointless to play dumb, and the man had Paige blocked in, so the longer Dylan stood here and talked to the guy, the longer she’d have to stand there and stew.
“Yes, I am!” he said with a full-blown grin. He held out his hand and gave the guy a hearty handshake and then proceeded to talk to him about everything from his favorite Shaughnessy song to his taste in other music.
Paige cleared her throat. Loudly. But Dylan ignored it.
“Would you mind signing something for me?” the guy asked.
“Not at all! I’ll sign as much as you’d like. Take something to the guys at the garage too!”
“Um…excuse me,” Paige said with a hint of annoyance, “but I need to get going. Could you move the truck?”
Dylan looked at her and grinned. “We’ll be done in a minute. Maybe you should go inside and see about calling the Toyota dealer about that new tire.”
Her dark eyes narrowed at him. “I don’t want to go inside.”
“And we’re not ready to move the truck yet,” he countered.
“Oh, we’re not ready?” she mocked. “Seriously?”
“What can I say? I can’t disappoint a fan.” Turning his back on her, he walked over to the driver’s side of the truck and then spent another five minutes signing papers, flyers, hats, whatever the guy could get his hands on. When he was done, he looked at Paige, who was fuming, and felt like poking her some more. “Is that it? I’ve got time.”
“You know, my girlfriend would go crazy if you spoke to her,” the man said hopefully. “Would you…I mean…would you mind if I called her and you could get on the phone and say hi? I swear it won’t take long and you’ll really make her day!”
“I would love to! Go for it!”
Paige looked like her head was about to explode.
Was it wrong that he was having so much fun?
Before he knew it, a phone was thrust into his hands, and he was saying hello to a shrieking female. Dylan did his best not to wince at the high-pitched squeal and forced himself to smile at the AAA guy. As he listened to the squeals turn to excited chatter, he noticed an older gentleman walk toward Paige.
He also noticed her stiffen.
Was this guy someone she worked with? Someone she had a problem with? Her body language told him she wasn’t comfortable and yet…she smiled at the man. Curiosity got the better of him and he had a gut feeling that this was a man he needed to meet.
“Well, I need to go, sweetheart,” Dylan said cheerfully into the phone. “I hope you have a great night so…take care!” Handing the phone to the driver, he wished him a good night as well and then walked to where Paige and the older guy were talking.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” he heard her saying. “The tire’s repaired, and I’ll take it into the dealer Monday and get the tire replaced.”
“Are you sure it’s safe to drive? Maybe you should have it towed and I’ll drive you home.”
“That’s not necessary, Dad. But I appreciate the offer.”
Dad? So this was Robert Walters, the head of the firm. Interesting. Dylan straightened a bit as he strolled over, smiling. Paige glanced at him and frowned, and Dylan noticed how her father caught on to her instant change in demeanor as well.
“Paige?” her father asked. “Is…everything all right? Do you know this man?”
Still smiling, Dylan walked up and extended his hand. “Dylan Anders. I’m hoping to be working on Paige’s literacy campaign.”
Robert Walters shook his hand and visibly relaxed. “Splendid! Are you an author?”
Paige coughed and turned away to hide what was—no doubt—a snort of disgust.
“No, sir. I’m a musician. Your daughter Ariel reached out to me about the campaign and I came by today to talk to Paige about my participation.”
“Nothing’s confirmed yet,” Paige interrupted, shooting him a warning glare. “I’m still not convinced Ariel’s suggestion is how I want to go.”
Robert studied Dylan for a moment and then turned to his daughter. “I looked over her proposal—she gave me a copy after the meeting the other day—and I have to admit that it does sound intriguing. Getting members of various arts could extend our reach with the campaign, Paige. It’s not an uncommon approach, and it’s proven to be successful in the past. I know you wanted this to be your baby, but that shouldn’t mean you automatically disqualify suggestions just because they’re not your own.”
For a minute, Dylan felt bad for her—she was getting reprimanded by her father in front of him. That had to be embarrassing.
“Well, to be fair,” Dylan began, having a sudden urge to clarify, “I don’t think she’s against all non-authors, just me.”
“Wait…now I remember. I read your bio,” Robert replied. “You’re with a band, you play the bass, and you’re fresh out of rehab for your drinking, correct?”
Okay, right to the point
. Dylan nodded. “Yes, sir.” Then he braced himself for the condescension and disapproval.
Crossing his arms across his chest, Robert gave him a hard look before turning to his daughter. “And you have a problem with this? With him?”
Her cheeks turned a light shade of crimson as she studied the pavement. “It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“Paige,” her father began sternly, “it’s not like you to be so judgmental. Personal feelings should not play into what’s going to help your cause. I think you’d be doing the campaign a disservice if you eliminate willing volunteers based on your own bias.” He paused. “You should reconsider.” Turning to Dylan, Robert extended his hand. “I’m looking forward to seeing you on this project. I’m sure my daughter will do the right thing.”
And then he bade them both a good evening, walked over to his car, and swiftly drove away.
Leaving the two of them standing in awkward silence.
Just when Dylan thought he’d go mad, Paige spoke.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, not quite meeting his gaze, and he knew she was uncomfortable.
A few minutes ago, it would have been fun to make her work for his forgiveness, but now it seemed mean.
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice equally quiet. “I get it, you know. I know you had envisioned someone completely different for this project and then I walk in and ruin it.”
This time her eyes did meet his and what he saw there was gratitude, plain and simple.
“It isn’t personal…”
He laughed softly. “I think it’s a little bit personal.”
That had her laughing with him. “For the sake of total honesty, fine. I do have an issue with your…past. I can’t help it. I lost a friend to a drunk driver so…”
One More Promise Page 6