“Everything okay?”
“It’s my sister. I thought she was the one who sent the flowers, apologizing for being a little crazy this week, but it wasn’t her.”
“The card didn’t say anything?” I ask, sitting up straighter. Why would someone send a gift like that without a card?
“It just had a ‘X’ and an ‘O’ typed. Must have been my parents. They do things like that from time to time.”
Accepting her explanation, I see her mind still working. Maybe part of her doesn’t think it was her parents. She’s a beautiful single woman, I’m sure men are interested. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of them trying to woo her.
“Or maybe it’s someone you’ve dated?” Maybe I’m fishing.
“I don’t date.”
Like a record is scratching loudly, I shake my head in confusion. “Sorry, what?”
“What, what?”
“Why don’t you date?”
Shrugging, I can tell this topic is uncomfortable for her, but it’s also obvious she wants to answer me. My hopes jump a little at the possibility that she’s feeling the same attraction as me. I’ve caught her looking at me when she doesn’t think I’m paying attention. Her laughs come easily, and her smiles are never ending.
Looking at her hands, I hear the telltale inhale of breath she does when choosing her words carefully. It’s one of the things I’ve noticed in the time we’ve spent together. I count to three, ready to change the subject when she catches me by surprise.
“Thirty-three.”
My confusion of her response must be written all over my face because she starts giggling. It’s a welcome sound because at least she isn’t upset.
“My age. Sorry. You asked how old I was earlier. I’m thirty-three. A widow and mom of two. I have a lot of baggage. While everyone in my life, including my therapist, says I’m stronger and should put myself out there, I don’t know if I agree with them. So, no, I don’t date. I try to make up the time I’ve lost with my girls and be the best parent I can for them. They are my priority.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, eyes cast downward.
“Hey,” I whisper as I reach for her hand and squeeze it lightly, getting her attention. “How about a friend? Got room for one more of those?”
Nodding, her lips lift into a small smile, and I’m grateful to see its appearance. There’s a lot to unpack in her declaration but not tonight.
“It’s getting late, I should go.” Standing, I stretch my arms over my head and exhale. Looking down, I catch her eyes widen as the bottom of my shirt rises, exposing my abs. I may be over forty, but I still keep my body in better shape than most twenty-five-year-old men.
Grabbing my keys and phone from the table, I make my way toward the front door. I hear her feet scuffling behind me, and I turn to face her when I get to the door. A piece of hair has fallen from her ponytail and, without thinking, I lift my hand and push it behind her ear. In a flash, her head lifts, eyes on me.
I want to pull her to me. To hold her. To kiss her. But I won’t. Can’t.
“Lock the door and I’ll call you in the morning,” I instruct and step onto the porch.
“Good night, Grant.”
Looking over my shoulder, I smile. “’Night.”
When the door closes, I pause and wait for the telltale sound of the lock engaged. Hearing it, I take a step but stop again when I hear her giggle and then a faint “Oh boy.” With a little more pep in my step, I make my way to my car and the knowledge that maybe she’s more open to dating than she thinks.
Chapter 15
Dakota
“I am so proud of you, Sissy. Your first sale!”
“Thanks. I’m pretty proud of myself. Of course, I wish the sellers had been more open to a quick escrow. I feel bad for Grant.”
With a quirked brow, Minnie waits, fork mid-air as if she has something to say and then turns her attention back to her salad.
“What?”
“Nuffin,” she mutters with a full mouth.
Sitting back in my seat, my arms crossed over my chest, I wait. Silent stares drive my little sister crazy and it’s always been my default way of getting her to spill what’s on her mind. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as quickly as when we were kids. At ten she would have spilled her guts in a count of five. Now, she’s two more bites of salad in and just starting to crack.
“Ugh, fine,” she sighs dramatically before setting the fork down and wiping her mouth with a napkin.
Normally we only come to the diner after yoga with the rest of our girlfriends, but we’re here today for an impromptu comfort-food binge. The salad is so we don’t feel bad about the double bacon cheeseburgers and fries also on the table. When my parents take the girls for a weekend, Minnie and I try to have a shopping day or a girl’s night of pampering.
“I’m waiting.”
“Don’t be mad.”
Doesn’t she know that’s a sure-fire way to make me angry? It’s like telling a toddler not to touch something. It’s not their fault you set them up for failure. I sip my iced tea in response to her request.
“I think you should ask Grant out.”
Choking on my drink, I sputter iced tea all over the table and her. Serves her right. What’s with people suddenly concerned with my dating? Clearing my throat, I start to say just that when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, so I assume it’s a potential client. Quickly sliding the green button to answer, I motion for Minnie to be quiet with a finger to my lip.
“This is Dakota.”
A clicking and then a sigh on the other end is all I hear. Then another click and silence. Pulling the phone away from my ear I look to see if the call has ended. Nope.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” Another click.
Minnie mouths “Who is it?” and I shrug in response.
“We must have a bad connection. Try calling me back.”
Ending the call, I turn my attention back to my sister.
“Who was that?”
“No idea. No deflecting. You almost murdered me just before the phone rang. Let’s get back to that.”
“I’ve been giving this some thought. The girls and I—”
“Whoa. What? You’re gossiping about me? That’s just great.”
I cannot believe this. I know they all worry about me. Everyone worries about me. Will Dakota lose it today? Will she break down crying? Will she relapse? Is life too hard for her that she’ll turn to pills? Is she too much of a homebody? Is she depressed? Over and over. It doesn’t matter how many times I reassure my family and friends I’m fine, they don’t believe me.
“It’s not gossip. We want you to be happy, Dakota. You’re so amazing and deserve to be loved. That’s all.”
“I was loved, Minnie. Just because Jeff is gone doesn’t mean I don’t still love him.”
A look of shame skirts her features and a stabbing of guilt hits me. I do love Jeff. I’ll always love him. But it isn’t that love or him that’s keeping me from moving forward. I’m scared. Beyond scared. I’m petrified of putting myself out there. The idea of bringing someone into my children’s lives is beyond comprehension.
“Look”—I force a smile—“I know you all mean well but please let me do all of this at my pace. Besides, Grant and I are friends. I think you all are reading into something that doesn’t exist.”
“That’s not what we think. Before you freak out, I hear you. I’ll drop it, but would you open your mind a little to the concept? I’m not trying to tell you how to grieve or how to move on, but you have so much love to give, Sissy, I hate that you don’t have someone to share it with.”
“If I promise to think about it, will that work?”
Nodding, she smiles and picks up her fork then drops it on the salad, pushing the plate out of the way and sliding her burger and fries toward her.
“Come to mama.”
We both laugh and turn our attention to our burgers and switch the conversation from my datin
g life to her engagement. At least the heat is off me for now.
Sucker. The word must be stamped across my forehead. Leaning closer to the mirror, I double check. Nope. Nothing there but the early signs to reconsider my stance on Botox.
Swiping the long-lasting stain across my lips, I let it dry before dabbing on a little gloss. I cannot believe I let my sister talk me into going out tonight. As promised, she dropped any talk of my dating life, but in its place was how long it’s been since we’ve had a girl’s night out on the town. We live in Lexington. It isn’t as if there’s huge nightlife here. Besides, when the girls are with our parents, it’s my opportunity to watch all the true crime documentaries my heart desires and eat ice cream directly from the carton.
My phone dings multiple times and I don’t bother hiding my groan. Another upside to a night alone.
Sissy: Don’t flake on me.
Sissy: If you don’t get here in five minutes Owen will bring me to you.
Sissy: NVM. I don’t trust you. He’s bringing me now.
Sissy: Are you even dressed? If I get there and you’re in your robe, Dakota . . .
It’s no wonder Minnesota Walker was cast in the lead in every school play. She’s a smidge dramatic.
Me: I was actually leaving until you told me I was no longer your DD.
Snapping a picture of myself and sending it to shut her up, I make my way from the bathroom to the living room and gather my belongings when my phone buzzes again.
Owen: Your sister is a nut. I’m not driving her anywhere. See ya when you get here.
And that is why Owen is my favorite brother-in-law-to-be. Of course, I was leery of him in the beginning, but he really is the perfect fit for my sister. In fact, he’s a great addition to our family in general. Closing up the house, I hustle out to my car and settle behind the wheel.
What in the . . .
Opening the door again, I lean out and nab the shimmery gold envelope stuck under the wiper blade. Weird. My phone chimes again and I know it’s Minnie with some sort of countdown or threat. Lifting the center console, I set the envelope inside and buckle in to drive the short distance to my sister’s house.
The upside to small town living is you can make it to most anywhere in less than fifteen minutes. The downside is . . . well, you can make it to anywhere in less than fifteen minutes. It’s no wonder it takes me months to finish an audiobook. This particular book is eight hours in length but in ten to fifteen increments only when I’m alone is not conducive to finishing quickly.
Pulling into the driveway, the front door flies open and Minnie rushes down the steps, a massive smile on her face. Good grief, she’s going to be a happy weirdo all night. She’s within a few steps of the car when the hero in my book moans in ecstasy. Minnie’s eyes widen as she comes to an abrupt stop. Then it happens, what can only be described as an evil grin takes over her face and I instantly regret two things.
Saying yes to girl’s night and listening to a very sexy book in my car.
Switching off the book, I face forward while the passenger door flies open, and Minnie sticks her head inside the car. “Well, this night is already off to a bang. Literally.”
“Dear lord. Shut up. Let’s go before I leave you here and go home to my comfortable pajamas.”
Giggling, she hops in and once her seatbelt is in place, turns to face me. Gone is the evil grin and in its place one of pride.
“I promise to not get too tipsy, and you have to promise to say yes if someone asks you to dance.”
Ignoring her, I switch to a random country music playlist as I pull out of the driveway. When one of her favorite songs starts playing, she cranks the volume and begins singing at the top of her lungs.
It’s going to be a long night.
Chapter 16
Grant
“Another beer, Cap?” Connor asks while he stocks glasses in the cooler in front of where I’m parked at the bar. I’ve been nursing the beer he poured me an hour ago.
“I’ll take a bottle of that IPA I had the other night.” Pushing the pint glass forward, I lean back in my seat and spin a little to take in the place. It amazes me how much Taylor has done with this place. I saw some photos of Country Road in its heyday. Unlike the modern dance hall meets local watering hole it is today, the bar of twenty years ago was like you’d see in an old eighties’ movie. Electric bull in the corner, broken tables from bar fights pushed against the walls, and a beat-up stage where local bands entertained the patrons.
Now, large televisions hang on the walls where various sports play on mute, modern and throwback country music wafts from the speakers, and the clientele ranges from groups of young people out for a good time on a Saturday night to couples dancing the two-step across the floor.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me when you get back?”
“Kid, you live in a small one-bedroom apartment over a garage. I love ya but I don’t think I want to cuddle with you.”
Shrugging, Connor turns toward the end of the bar where a trio of young women are waving his direction. Leaving me alone, I watch as the kid throws his shoulders back and adds a little swagger to his walk as he approaches the now giggling ladies. Sometimes I still see the shy kid he once was even when he hides it deep beneath the charm and cockiness he’s displaying now. The first time I met him, I thought he was barely old enough to enlist. Tall, lanky and very awkward, he didn’t exactly scream confidence. When he told me he was actually closer to thirty than still in high school, I was blown away.
Quickly earning the nickname “Twig” because of his scrawniness, he made it his mission to not only learn everything he could about being a soldier, he was determined to bulk up and never be the last picked for anything. He reached that goal and then some. That was part of the reason everyone except me was shocked when he didn’t re-enlist the third time. I knew he wasn’t a lifer. He did his time, learned what he wanted to, and set himself up to pursue something that fulfilled him.
Still searching myself, I’m in no position to judge how long the journey is to that fulfillment. He does bring up a valid point. I can’t stay with Taylor and Scarlett forever. They’re a new family and don’t need me in their space. Staying with Connor is out because what I need less than being with the Cains is listening to the kid bring home a woman after his shift at the bar.
A loud chorus of screams draws my attention toward the entrance. A group of women are dancing in a circle with a very familiar blonde standing in the middle. With her hands covering her face, her shoulders shake as she laughs at the antics around her. Scarlett, Piper, Ashton, and Minnie are doing some weird synchronized dance, making quite the scene.
Laughing, I take another sip of my beer and watch as the production dies down and the ladies curtsy in response to the applause from the nearby patrons. Dakota doesn’t seem to agree with the crowd’s opinion. I can’t see her face, but with her hands on her hips and back ramrod straight, anyone can tell she’s pissed.
The only face I really see is Minnie’s, but I have no doubt the rest of the women are fighting back laughs too. Throwing her hands in the air, Dakota spins on her heel and stomps in my direction.
Eyeing the group she left by the door, I chuckle as they high-five each other and move to a table near the dance floor. Tracking Dakota, she makes her way across the room mumbling to herself. When she’s a few feet from my seat, she lifts her gaze and catches my eye. Her shoulders sag and a small grin greets me.
“Please tell me you did not see that.”
“I’m not in the habit of lying.”
“I will kill them. They act like I’m some hermit who never leaves my house. I go places. I do things. I’m social.” Her big beautiful blue eyes squint, her lashes touching the apples of her cheeks while her lips purse to prove her seriousness. It’s adorable. “Making a big deal about me getting dressed up and having a girl’s night. Ridiculous.”
She begins to mumble to herself and fiddle with the small purse in her hand. Sinc
e she seems to be distracted by the one-woman conversation she’s having, I take in the dressed-up appearance she mentioned. Tight dark jeans that do amazing things for her legs have me wanting to ask her to spin so I can see the backside. A black top hangs off one shoulder enough to show off her creamy skin. But it’s her red lips that really have my attention. The thoughts that run through my mind as I watch the tip of her tongue peek out have me shifting in my seat. Turning back to the bar to hide my lap, I signal for Connor.
“Can I get you something to drink? Glass of wine?” I ask when Connor acknowledges me and motions he’ll be just a minute.
“Oh, I don’t drink. A club soda with a lemon, would be great.”
“Designated driver?” I ask once after giving her order and turning back to her.
“Sober,” she says nonchalantly.
I try to school my expression so not to offend her. I’m surprised but appreciate her honesty.
“Oh! Technically not from booze, but I say no and all that. Sorry, I’m rambling. It’s a long story for another time. I’ll stop now. This is so embarrassing.”
“Hey,” I say, taking her hand. “Relax. Your friends were having a little fun. There’s no reason to be embarrassed. Why don’t I scoot this stool down a bit and you can hang with me? Enjoy your club soda with . . . looks like two lemons.”
She smiles that special smile I’ve grown to like a little too much. Standing from the barstool, I move it down and grab an empty one from a nearby table for Dakota to sit on.
As she settles in and takes a sip of her drink, her tension unravels slowly from her shoulders. Her face no longer looks like she sucked on the lemons in her drink. All good things.
“So, you probably want to know what I meant by sober.”
“Nope. None of my business.”
Doing a double take, she looks at me wide-eyed. Do I want to know what she meant? Of course. Am I going to pry and ask about something I know is extremely personal? Never.
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