Not in Her Wildest Dreams

by Dani Collins

  Lyle shrugged and left the room.

  Anthony wasn’t looking at her. He angled so his back was mostly to the bed, his narrow shoulders pulled back with tension. His flush wasn’t all anger, though. There was shame there, too.

  She sighed.

  “I wasn’t about to hand him this,” Anthony said, holding up a bundle too big to be a check. He’d brought cash. Of course he’d brought cash, the freak. She couldn’t believe one of the things that had attracted her to him was his habit of hoarding money.

  “We’ll talk outside,” she said, leading him down the hall.

  “Lyle said you weren’t hurt. Why are you limping?”

  “Sprained ankle. It’s fine.”

  It was cold out, despite the sunshine, and should have smelled fresh, but the subtle pall of burnt house hung in the air.

  She folded her sore foot over her good one as she stood in the damp grass, looking beyond Lyle’s huddled cars to the absence of her father’s house. It was strange to see Britta’s parents’ old house, on the far side of the street, from this far away.

  “I couldn’t not see you after arriving to that.” Anthony said in a grim tone. He surveyed the yellow tape and charred mess, then held out the money to her. “Did you need this last night, cara? Your brother runs with a rough crowd—”

  “Oh for God’s sake! No. Lyle had nothing to do with the fire and the fire has nothing to do with this.” She took the bag, but didn’t bother checking inside. She knew him well enough to know every last cent she’d asked for was there. “I just wanted to tie up one more loose end before I leave.” Saying it aloud made her frown.

  “Leave?” Anthony mocked, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking on his feet. “And this time you really mean it?”

  “Good news. We’re divorced now. We don’t have to have this fight.”

  He shook his head. “I was never angry about you coming here, cara. I was angry that you wouldn’t admit you couldn’t stay away. Most of the time it makes you miserable, but it’s your crack. You just keep coming back. Why? Because you’re a homing pigeon, like Lyle always calls you?”

  “He calls me Pigeon because he thinks I’m a sucker, which is true.” She coughed, then frowned. “And I no longer have a home to come back to, do I?”

  “I doubt that will make a difference. What happened?”

  She told him what Cam thought of the fire, that someone might have deliberately tried to kill her.

  Anthony grew more appalled by the second. When she finished, there was a white line around his lips. “Come back to Seattle with me.”

  Behind her, the back door swung open as Sterling came onto the porch wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. “What is your prejudice against jackets?”

  He descended and crossed the grass to drape Harvard over her shoulders. His one hand stayed heavy on the back of her neck while his other reached past her toward Anthony. “Sterling Roy.”

  Anthony took a moment before reaching out for one desultory shake.

  “Anthony Sebastiano,” Paige murmured. “He brought this for me to give to your mother.” She handed Sterling the money.

  Sterling glanced into the cloth bag and offered it back to her. “Not exactly a pound cake. What the hell is that for?”

  “I don’t like being in her debt.” She didn’t take it back, only turned to Anthony, squinting against the intense blue sky. “About what I said last night.”

  Oh, it was going to kill her to give up the apartment, but she hadn’t been able to think of any other way to raise the money.

  “I know I said I’d be out in ninety days if you brought the down payment today, but that was before my father’s house burned to the ground. I don’t know how soon I can get back to Seattle—”

  He snorted. “Not my problem. If you set boundaries just once in your life—”

  “Someone tried to kill me, you lunk head!”

  “So get the hell away from here! Come back to Seattle with me. That’s not your husband telling you that. You always thought I was being possessive, but I’m not.” His gaze went past her to Sterling. “If it’s dangerous for you here, then you should leave. If people here cared about you, they’d tell you the same thing.”

  “If Paige wants to leave, I’ll take her,” Sterling said in a hard voice. “But we need to talk about a few things,” he added in a gentler tone, looking at her with a somber gaze. He tried to give her the bag again. “Starting with this. Mom burned the promissory note,” he reminded her.

  She shook her head. “I’d like it if you’d give it to her. It saves me from having to talk to her, but I want her to have it. I can’t stand owing her anything.”

  “My mother misses you, Paige,” Anthony said, voice lowering to a coax. “If we left now, we could be back in time for Sunday dinner. She’d love to see you.”

  “That might be awkward, with the divorcee from down the hall sitting beside you,” Sterling interjected. “When is she due?”

  Anthony stiffened.

  “Stop it.” Paige held up a warning finger at Sterling. His color was high, his gaze locked with Anthony’s.

  Men. Not that her ego didn’t appreciate it, but he wasn’t helping.

  And she really wasn’t up for a forensic audit on any of her relationships.

  “Fine,” she said to Anthony, “I’ll be out in ninety days.”

  “But you’re not coming back with me now.”

  “You want to fight for five hours? That doesn’t sound like fun to me.”

  “Is this town fun for you?” He started toward where his car was parked in front of the rubble that was her father’s house. “Call me if you need anything.”

  ~ * ~

  Sterling hated Paige’s ex because he wasn’t a complete asshole.

  Of course, she’d barely said a word since the man had stormed off, but at least she was sitting at his grandmother’s kitchen table now, not at Anthony Sebastiano’s mother’s.

  “I’m to tell you to call Britta if you need anything,” he told Paige, starting a can of chicken noodle soup on the stove.

  Paige nodded, her entire body seeming to huddle around the cup of honey and lemon tea he’d just made her. His jacket was still slouched across her shoulders.

  Maybe he should have let her go. What was he intending if she stayed? Marriage? Was he ready to go there? Was she? Maybe he should ask her to live with him for a while, until they knew where they stood.

  Oh, yeah, that’d be one to tell the grandkids. And there was Grandma, looking like death warmed over. I proposed living in sin, in a town where someone was trying to kill her, then offered her a bowl of canned soup while the romantic sound of Uncle Lyle swearing at the plumbing drifted from the bathroom. She kneed me in the teeth.

  Lyle stalked into the kitchen, looking fed up with inanimate objects that didn’t cooperate. He helped himself to a cola, cracked it open.

  “Hair lip gone?” he asked.

  “Don’t call him that.”

  Sterling paused in stirring. Her ex hadn’t had the scars of a cleft pallet. “The soul patch? Yeah, what is it with guys who don’t grow a proper beard? It looked like a caterpillar crawled onto his chin and died.”

  Lyle choked on his cola, lowered it, and laughed. “Don’t marry other men, Pidge. Golden Boy doesn’t like it.”

  Sterling felt the heat of having revealed too much sting his face. He turned to collect bowls out of the cupboard. “Are you having some?” he asked Lyle.

  “No, I’m going to the D.I.Y. for a fitting and some grout. You want me to replace this window, too?” Lyle already had his tape measure out. “What happened?”

  Paige didn’t say anything as Lyle sized the window.

  “Your sister disagreed with my HR policies.”

  Lyle snapped the tape back into its casing, bowed his head at Paige. “That’s quite a valentine, Pidge. I heart you, too. You want lino or tiles on the bathroom floor? I’ll get some samples while I’m at the hardware store.”

&
nbsp; Silence.

  Paige looked up with surprise when she realized they were both waiting for her answer. “What are you asking me for? It’s Sterling’s house.”

  Lyle looked from Paige to Sterling and back to Paige. “You’re not staying? ‘Cause Golden Boy said—”

  “I haven’t asked her to stay yet,” Sterling said, knowing he sounded short, but hell, every time he got her alone they were interrupted.

  Paige’s eyes widened. Her breath must have stopped because the steam from her cup rose undisturbed before her face.

  Lyle pulled the tape out with a metallic hiss, let it snap back in again.

  Paige cleared her throat and looked into her tea. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  Sterling folded his arms and leaned his hip into the counter, his chest so tight he could barely breathe. “Pick up some paint chips while you’re at the D.I.Y. And tile will be fine.” Dawdle.

  “Sure thing, boss.” Lyle drew out and snapped back his tape measure again. As he hooked it into his belt loop, he said, “I’ll ask around while I’m out. See if I can bunk with a buddy, ‘cause I’m not going back to that freakin’ clinic. If anything would make a man turn to chronic drug use, it’s those white-coat bureaucrats.”

  “What buddies?” Paige raised her head. “Those bar-flies you call friends? I thought the lawyer said you needed to stay sober? You’d be off the wagon and under the wheel within an hour.”

  “Well, G.B. invited me to stay here, but I’m not staying if you’re not.”

  “Use my apartment in Seattle for a couple of months.”

  “I have a job if I stay here.”

  “At the factory?” She brightened.

  “Here. Remodelling.”

  “When did you two decide that?”

  Yeah, Sterling wondered, when had Lyle mentioned he’d be billing for his hours?

  “When you were sleeping,” Sterling said, and waited for her decision.

  “Then stay here,” she said with a simplistic shrug.

  “I’m not staying if you’re not. The whole town’ll think I’m turning.”

  “It’s that Fogarty charm,” Sterling drawled. “Being a Roy, I can’t resist.”

  “See? He’s flirting already.”

  “No one is going to think either of you is gay,” Paige said, rolling her eyes.

  “Whatever.” Lyle slurped his soda and shrugged. “I’m not staying here without you so I’ll go pack— Well, shit. Not much to pack, is there? Color me gone.”

  “Lyle. Just...go to the hardware store. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Fine. I’ll get rid of that sink on my way,” he offered to Sterling.

  Sterling carried it out of the house while Lyle drove his truck around to meet him at the end of the driveway.

  “Straight time, no overtime,” Sterling told him as they lifted the sink into the bed of the truck. “You want to work fourteen hour days, that’s your choice.”

  “You’re welcome,” Lyle said.

  Yeah, yeah, but how grateful could he be when he felt as though he was manipulating her? He wanted her to stay because she wanted to.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  While the men were outside, Paige made herself eat some soup and thought about what Sterling had said about asking her to stay.

  Was he being neighborly or did he mean stay? Her throat lost its ability to swallow. When he came back in, she gave up eating altogether.

  He ignored the bowl she’d filled and set for him on the other side of the table, cocked his hip against the counter, folded his arms, and looked so brooding and grim she couldn’t meet his gaze.

  She pushed away her own bowl and tugged the edges of his jacket closer around her, needing shields.

  “Would you be more comfortable on the sofa? I’ll get the quilt.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine.” He took a few angry steps toward her, paused with his eyes closed and drew a calming breath, then he opened his eyes. “You’re sick as a dog, still choking up smoke. It’s killing me.”

  “Really? Because the way you’re acting, I keep thinking you’re still mad about Lyle and your mom and everything.”

  “No.” He swiped his hand through his hair. “I am mad, but I don’t know who at. I keep thinking if I’d been with you, I might have woken up before whoever started the fire had lit the match. Or if I’d put you in the truck yesterday, maybe I would have convinced you to come here and you wouldn’t have been there at all. If I’d talked to Mom alone, or if I hadn’t been such an asshole when you came to talk after I fired Lyle—” He turned his palm up, still sounding angry. “What are we going to do, Paige?”

  “About?”

  “Us.”

  Her lips hurt and refused to remain steady. Tears stung her eyes and her throat ached. The way he said that word made it sound sweet and sharp, yet so impossible. She turned her face to the side in rejection.

  “Paige, I’m sorry.” He started to come around to her.

  “So am I,” she said, holding him off with a hand. “But so what? Our parents are still... We are still who we are.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You know,” she chided.

  “No, I really don’t.”

  Standing was an effort. The way he watched her walk to the sink with her bowl made her tremble. “You’re the perfect guy who has everything and I’m a Fogarty.”

  “Stop it.” His voice was hard.

  She shrugged. “I didn’t tell you about Lyle because I was afraid of losing what we had.”

  “I don’t want to lose it either!” He took a step toward her.

  “But what is it, Sterling? You say ‘us,’ but you’re not happy I’m the one you fell for. Are you?”

  His shoulders shifted as he adjusted his bearing. “I never wanted there to be any one, Paige. It’s...” He searched for words. “Dad’s been crushed by Mom so many times. I don’t want to be vulnerable like that.”

  “You resent feeling this way.”

  “I did.”

  “Do.”

  “I’m getting used to it.”

  She swallowed. Watched the apology that angled through his brow, flickered in the corners of his mouth.

  “I don’t want to feel this way either.” She watched him flinch. “Look how I act for people I care about.” She looked away. The collar of his jacket, still draped across her shoulders, brushed her cheek. She shrugged so it would caress her again. “People use me up and I let them.”

  “I haven’t been using you, Paige. Don’t make it sound like that.”

  “No, but...” It was all she could do not to turn into his body and let him cradle her. “Yesterday, after...” She rolled her wrist, referring to their talk with his mother. “I was serious about dropping everything and going back to Seattle and I was so relieved.” Tears came to her eyes again. “Everyone here expects me to bend over backwards for them, but they don’t appreciate what it costs me. It’s not their fault. I’ve always done it. Even you called me an enabler and you’re right.”

  “I can’t leave the factory and go to Seattle with you. I would. But I can’t.”

  “I wouldn’t think much of you if you did.” She met his gaze, heart shivering in her chest. “I don’t like the way you did it, but your taking control will be good for the factory. And the town. You’re doing good work.”

  “So are you.”

  “Don’t. You’re not allowed to guilt me into working there.”

  “It’s not guilt. It’s a fact. And I think you should finish the audit. Because if you insist on paying back my mother, I’m going to insist my parents honor the original agreement and buy Grady’s share at fair market value.”

  He wanted her to do exactly what she’d wanted in the first place: to look after her family. She let out a scoffing noise of disbelief, shaking her head. “That’s cruel.”

  “Are you really prepared to walk away from that? From this?” He pointed between them. “Go ba
ck to Seattle and give me a wave in the grocery store when you happen to be in town? Not even give us a chance?”

  She looked at her broken nails, hands scuffed by their rough night. “Maybe we could just see how it goes until I finish the audit?”

  He made a noise like she’d punched him in the gut. “I suppose that’s karma. I never agreed to come here without having a reason to leave already in place. I’d rather you were all in, giving this a real try.”

  “Move my whole life here? My risk tolerance isn’t that high. What if it doesn’t work out?”

  “Come on,” he said with a hint of lightness. “What’s left to fight about?”

  She choked on a laugh. “We’re pretty creative. I’m sure we’ll find something.”

  “Flirt.” He reached out and she let him draw her in, insides quaking then settling. His hand smoothed her hair as he pressed his lips to the side of her head. “I’m not used to anyone doubting me, Paige. It bothers me that you think I’m going to let you down. That I have,” he added in an undertone. “You have to give me a chance to show you I can do better.”

  He didn’t understand that she was a Fogarty, and therefore didn’t have a right to expect the same respect and gold standard loyalty that others were entitled to.

  His mouth searched for hers, but into the quiet they heard the crunch of tires on gravel over at her father’s place, loud because her father’s house wasn’t there to absorb the noise and the plastic sheet over Sterling’s kitchen window didn’t block it.

  They both moved to the window in the back door so they could see properly.

  Two men were climbing from a cube van that read Fildew’s Sleep Center. One consulted the clipboard he was carrying. The other scratched his head.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me. I left a message last night, canceling my order.”

  “That explains the special delivery on a Sunday,” Sterling drawled. “They didn’t want to lose the sale. But that’s handy. We need a mattress for your brother.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sterling sighed with impatience as they were invaded. His parents arrived just after Paige’s mother, while the deliverymen were still propping the mattress and box spring on its side in the hall.