I hadn’t planned to ask her to dinner. I’d gotten off the plane this afternoon, rented a car, and driven straight to her house without a clue what I was going to say to her except I’m sorry for being a dick and Please forgive me. All I’d hoped for in return was to hear her say she didn’t hate me and that she was happy.
But there was something so damn irresistible about her. Once I saw her, talked with her, I wanted more. You didn’t take one bite of the most delicious cupcake in the world and put it back in the box—you ate the whole thing.
You stay away from her cupcake.
I frowned. My conscience had been sounding all kinds of alarms ever since I left her house. But I hadn’t asked her to dinner to get her into bed. I just liked being around her. I mean, yes, I was still attracted to her and wished that things could have been different between us. My feelings for her had never gone away. But things were the way they were, and I couldn’t change them. I’d had her. I’d fucked it up.
There wasn’t time for a second chance.
Then it hit me—the perfect idea for tonight. I nearly laughed out loud, it was so damn brilliant. But since it would require some legwork to pull off, I needed to get started on it. Propping myself up on some pillows, I reached for my phone and made a few calls.
An hour later, everything was in place. I’d had a stroke of luck in that one of the managers here at the hotel turned out to be a former classmate and football buddy. He was more than willing to help me—for the right price, of course. What I was asking for wasn’t easy. It would be a little costly, but it would be worth it, and I couldn’t help feeling pleased with myself as I tucked my credit card back into my wallet. While it was open, I pulled out the folded piece of paper I’d carried with me for the last twelve years and opened it up.
I remembered the night I’d drawn it like it was yesterday. It was fall of our senior year, right before my parents made the decision to send me away. We were sitting in my car in her driveway, and she was upset with me because I’d been suspended from school and wouldn’t be allowed to attend the homecoming dance, which would have marked our one-year anniversary.
I didn’t really give a shit about the dance, but it was important to her, and she was important to me. The disappointment in her face was like a knife to the heart. She sat there trying not to cry and asking why it was so hard for me to stay out of trouble, her lower lip trembling. I said I was sorry and promised to make it up to her, but secretly I was thinking how pretty she looked when she was sad. I’d just picked her up from the ballet studio, and her hair was up in a bun. Her shoulders were bare. As she talked, I probably should have been listening to what she said more closely, but I found myself memorizing the angle of her jaw, the shape of her head, the curve of her mouth, the fullness of her lashes.
Later, I went home and stayed up half the night drawing her in my sketchbook, trying to capture the perfect blend of beauty and heartbreak I’d seen in her expression, almost as if she already knew I was a lost cause. I’d planned on giving the drawing to her as a gift, but the next day my parents informed me of their decision about boarding school and I forgot about it.
Twenty-four hours later, I was gone.
Sighing, I folded the drawing up and replaced it in my wallet. I couldn’t turn back time. There was no use regretting what was never meant to be. Tonight, I’d do my best to put a smile on her face and make up in some small way for what I’d done back then. Then I’d say a proper goodbye like a mature adult and take off for Boston tomorrow. I didn’t belong in her life.
I had no illusions about that.
I knocked on Maren’s door a few minutes after eight. When she answered it, my jaw dropped. “Jesus Christ, Maren. I’m an old man. Are you trying to kill me?”
She laughed and looked down at her legs, most of which were visible below the hem of a very, very short skirt. “You’re only thirty.”
“I know, but …” I clutched my heart. “Have mercy.” My eyes roamed over her body from head to toe. Her blond hair swung loose around her shoulders, with just a few strands pinned back around her face. Just like when we were young, she hardly wore any makeup. Above the skirt she wore a loose white blouse that draped softly over her curves and somehow managed to be elegant and provocative at the same time. On her feet she wore high-heeled sandals that laced up her calves, and I had a sudden urge to untie those laces with my teeth.
Tonight would be a test of my willpower for sure.
She came out onto the porch and pulled the front door closed behind her. “Listen, I don’t go out for dinner that often. I work a lot of evenings and haven’t gotten dressed up in a long time. So no mercy for you.”
I sighed heavily. “Fine. As long as you’re okay with me staring at you all night.”
She shrugged and smiled up at me. “As long as you’re okay with a strict look-but-don’t-touch policy.”
“I promise to be on my best behavior tonight.” I offered her an arm. “Shall we?”
“Yes.” She looped her hand around the inside of my bicep and we walked down the porch steps together. “So where are we going?”
Trying to ignore the thump in my chest, I led her to the silver Range Rover I had rented earlier today and opened the passenger door. “I’m not telling.”
“A surprise? Really?” She looked up at me and smiled brightly. “I love surprises.” The look on her face made me think that no one had done something like this for her before, and I wondered what kind of dickheads she’d dated after me.
I shut the door, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in. Buckling my seatbelt, I stole one more look at her legs before starting the car. The scent of her filled my head. My cock stirred, and I shifted a little in my seat, attempting to casually adjust my jeans.
On the drive downtown, we talked more about our families and what everyone was up to. I told her Finn had a wife and two kids, that my mom and dad were doting grandparents who made the trip from West Palm Beach to Boston often to see them, and that I was perfectly happy living on the opposite coast, although I did like being an uncle and Skyped with my niece and nephew at least once a week.
“How old are they?” Maren asked.
“Olympia is eight and Lane is six. They’re awesome. So smart and funny.”
“I bet they adore you.”
“Only because I send them tons of junk food and presents.” I signaled and exited the highway at Bagley Avenue. “And they send me pictures they’ve drawn and tell me I should tattoo people with them.”
Maren laughed. “That’s cute.”
“I should visit them more often, but I usually only get there once a year. You see your family much?”
“My parents don’t live around here anymore, but I see my sisters at least once a week. It’s hard because we all work a lot. Stella is a therapist with her own practice. She also runs marathons, so she trains a lot. Emme is a wedding planner, so her weekends are usually booked. Plus now she’s planning her own wedding, and the guy she’s marrying has a six-month-old baby.” She was quiet a moment. “Stella also has a boyfriend, or at least a guy she’s been seeing for a year or so.”
I glanced over at her. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
“No,” she said. “To be honest, I can’t seem to meet anyone I really connect with.”
I tried not to feel good about that. “I wonder why.”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. And you? Are you seeing anyone?”
“Nope. I learned a long time ago that I make a shit boyfriend.”
“Oh yeah?” She folded her arms across her chest. “And why is that? Because other than your failure at goodbye, I remember you as a pretty great boyfriend. When I wasn’t mad at you for getting in trouble.”
I smiled as I turned left onto Michigan Avenue. “That was a long time ago.” And no one ever compared to you. “Mostly, I’ve just never been that into anyone. I moved around a lot in my twenties, and now I work long hours doing something I enjoy. I don’t take a lot of time off, and
when I do, I’m selfish with it.”
“What do you like to do?”
“I like to be outside. Biking, hiking, climbing, skiing in the winter, swimming in the summer. And I love road trips.” I pulled up to the valet at the Westin Book Cadillac Hotel.
Maren noticed where we were for the first time and gasped. “Oh my God! Are we having dinner at Roast?”
I grinned and shook my head but said nothing more as I unbuckled my seatbelt.
“Oh, come on. We’re here, you can tell me now.” The valet opened the passenger door, and she poked me on the shoulder before getting out of the car.
But still, I kept the secret. It was too good, and I’d worked too hard to arrange everything on short notice to give it up so easily.
I walked her into the hotel, and when she paused in the lobby, looking toward the entrance to the restaurant, I took her by the hand and tugged her toward the concierge. “This way.”
She followed me, but seemed a little hesitant. I wondered if I shouldn’t have taken her hand. Truthfully, it had been sort of instinctive, but maybe it was too romantic a gesture. Not in line with the look-but-don’t-touch policy I’d agreed to. I let go of her hand as we waited behind another couple at the desk.
“Um, Dallas?” She turned and looked at me uneasily. “We aren’t going up to a room, are we?”
“No.” I didn’t even tease her. “I promise we aren’t. But that’s all I’m saying.”
“Okay.” She looked relieved, which reinforced my plan not to touch her. It was clear she didn’t want me to.
The couple in front of us moved away, and the concierge, a young woman, smiled at us. “Good evening. Can I help you?”
“My name is Dallas Shepherd.”
Her smile grew wider, and she winked at me. “Of course. Mr. Young has everything set up for you, Mr. Shepherd. Just give me one moment and I’ll let him know you’re here.” She picked up the phone on her desk and discreetly made the call. After hanging up, she told us, “He’ll be out in a moment and meet you at the elevators. Enjoy your evening.”
I thanked her and placed a hand on the small of Maren’s back, guiding her at my side toward the elevators. When I realized what I was doing—touching her again—I dropped my arm.
We reached the elevators, and she turned to me, suspicion in her eyes. “What is this?”
“You’ll see.”
“Shepherd!” A voice boomed behind us. I turned to see Aiden Young coming toward us, buttoning his suit coat. He offered me his hand, and I took it.
“Aiden, do you remember Maren Devine? She went to school with us.”
“Of course I do.” He offered her his hand as well. “Welcome.”
Maren shook his hand, looking back and forth between the two of us. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m not sure what I’m doing here, but it’s beautiful. You’re a manager at the hotel?”
Aiden nodded and punched the elevator button. “General Manager, which means I can only get away for a moment, but I’ll take you guys up.”
When the doors opened, we let Maren step in first, and he and I exchanged a look. Thank you, I mouthed behind her back. Not that he was doing this solely as a favor to an old friend, but still, I was grateful. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without his help.
When the doors closed, Aiden stuck his key into the number panel, turned it, and hit a button. The elevator began to ascend.
“So,” he said. “I’ll tell you a little bit about the building history. When the hotel was completed in 1924, it was the tallest building in Detroit as well as the tallest hotel in the world. For decades, it was the city’s most luxurious hotel, its twelve hundred rooms, three ballrooms, restaurants, lounges, and shops catering to affluent visitors from all over the world. In 1939, the hotel became part of baseball history. On May second, New York Yankee Lou Gehrig collapsed on the grand staircase. In the hotel bar, he told his manager he was taking himself out of the starting lineup against the Tigers, breaking his string of two thousand one hundred thirty consecutive games played.”
“God, I haven’t been to a Tigers game in forever,” I said.
Maren looked up at me with a sympathetic smile. “Too bad your trip is so short.”
“Yeah.” For a crazy second, I thought about saying it didn’t have to be that short and asking her to come to a game with me tomorrow. Thankfully, Aidan spoke up again before I opened my mouth.
“The hotel also appeared in the 1947 movie State of the Union, starring Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy, and they stayed at the hotel, as did Martin Luther King Jr., the Beatles, Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra, Presidents Franklin D. Roosevelt, John F. Kennedy, and Ronald Reagan, among others. The hotel closed in 1984, was in danger of being demolished for years, was robbed of its copper piping and chandeliers, vandalized, spray-painted, and left to rot.”
“So sad,” Maren said, shaking her head. “How could something so beautiful be abandoned that way?”
“Luckily, it was given a second chance.” The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Aiden placed a hand over them to keep them open, and I followed Maren into a dimly lit hallway.
When the doors closed, Aiden motioned for us to follow him. “Once again, it’s one of the most opulent, romantic places in the city.” At the end of the hallway, he pushed open a door that led to a stairwell. “Up we go.”
Maren glanced back at me, more puzzled than ever, but she started up the cement stairs. I couldn’t take my eyes off her legs in front of me. Her calf muscles were insane from all the ballet training. I remembered how flexible she’d been and felt my dick start perking up.
“In addition to all the history I just gave you,” Aiden said, his voice echoing off the walls, “this hotel was also the site of a certain prom a few years back.”
All of a sudden, Maren stopped moving and looked down over her shoulder at me. “No way.” The stunned, joyful expression on her face was worth every penny I had to pay to make this happen.
Goose bumps rippled down my arms inside my jacket. I smiled at her.
Her jaw dropped, and she continued up the stairs. At the top, Aiden moved ahead and opened the door to the rooftop. “Ballrooms were not available tonight, but when Dallas asked if you could have the roof to yourselves, I had to admit no one had booked it. In fact, no one has ever even asked to book it.” He laughed.
Maren stepped over the threshold onto the rooftop. “Dallas is definitely one of a kind.”
The three of us moved away from the door, and I saw the table that had been set for us, complete with white linens, flower centerpiece, and candlelight. Luckily, the air was warm, and the wind was soft. The sun was still setting beyond the skyline to the west, and to the east the Detroit River was visible; a little to the south was the Ambassador Bridge, and beyond the river, Canada. The view was breathtaking on all sides.
After turning around in a full circle, Maren looked at me with shining eyes. “Dallas. This is incredible.”
“You’ll have your own server for the night, and he should be up shortly,” Aiden said, checking his watch. “I should get back downstairs. Dallas, you have my cell if you need anything. Maren, good seeing you again, and I hope you enjoy your evening.” He gave us a smile before heading back to the stairwell door.
As soon as he was gone, Maren turned to me. “I cannot believe you did this.”
I shrugged. “I felt pretty bad when you said you’d missed the prom because of me. I figured I owed it to you.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes, which were filled with tears. “You didn’t, but whatever. I’ll take it.” Opening her purse, she hunted around in it for something. “God, I don’t even have tissues. I didn’t know you were going to make me cry.”
“No crying allowed at the prom. And I hope it’s okay I’m wearing jeans.”
“It’s fine.” She sniffed and closed her purse. “I’m not that dressed up either.”
“You’re perfect.” Our eyes met, and the air between us suddenly felt full of h
ope and possibility. In any other circumstance, I’d have kissed her.
But I couldn’t do that tonight.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Reaching into the inside pocket of my jacket, I pulled out a wrist corsage. “Sorry if it’s a little smashed. I had to get rid of the plastic container to hide it from you.”
She giggled and held out her arm. “That’s okay. It’s beautiful.”
“Good.” I slid the elastic band with three deep red roses attached to it along with some other green stuff onto her wrist. “I told the lady at the florist to make it a prom corsage. Pretty sure she thought I was crazy. Or creepy.”
“You might be crazy. But I love it. Thank you for this.” Then she rose up on tiptoe and pecked my cheek. When she lowered her heels, she stood there for a moment, her hand on my arm, her mouth so close I could have simply tipped my head down and my lips would be resting on hers.
My heart stumbled over its next few beats. I wanted to do it so badly, but I’d promised her I’d behave. I’d promised myself I’d behave. There were so many reasons why I shouldn’t be here tonight, standing so close to the only girl I’d ever loved, tempted beyond reason by her legs and her lips and her laugh and her eyes and her ability to make me feel like I fucking mattered in the universe.
What was the right thing to do?
If only—
The door from the stairwell opened, and we moved apart.
Five
Maren
The server, whose name was Jason, pulled out my chair, and I sat down across from Dallas. Then I listened to Jason go over the menu, but he might as well have been speaking another language. I didn’t comprehend one word he said.
My heart was still hammering—Dallas and I had almost kissed. And I’d wanted to. Like really, really wanted to. I thought he’d wanted it too, but we’d been interrupted before I could tell for sure.
Was the thing between us back? Or was I imagining it?
Maybe this whole “old times’ sake” business was getting to me. But it sure did feel nice.
Only Him (One and Only Book 2) Page 5