He shrugged. “I thought better of it. You didn’t believe me about that night at the drive-in, but it’s true. I had a little bit of a forbidden crush on you back then.”
“Forbidden?”
“You were too young, even if we were in the same grade. I may have been a hormonal teenage boy, but I knew you were off-limits.”
“I was headed to college, same as you.”
“Didn’t matter. You were a kid, a very pretty, not-old-enough-to-be-legal kid.”
“Am I supposed to be grateful that you kept your hands to yourself?”
He might not be the smartest man in the world, but he knew a pissed-off woman when he heard one. “What do you want from me, Mia?”
She was silent for so long, he began to sweat. And when she spoke she didn’t really answer his question. “If we’re being honest here, I suppose I should tell you that I didn’t happen upon the Silver Dollar by chance.”
His eyebrows went up. “You didn’t?”
“No. I wanted to see you, and it wasn’t hard to find out that you owned the saloon.”
“You couldn’t have known about the job, so why did you come?”
Mia sat back down, resting her elbows on the table and putting her face in her hands before she looked up at him with a crooked smile. “I’ve screwed up just about every aspect of my life. At the moment, I’m a homeless single mom with a helpless baby and limited funds. I thought it might make me feel better if I could be sure that you were doing well...that the tutoring I did in high school meant something. So I came back to Silver Glen for a visit.”
“How did you know I would sit down at the bar and speak to you?”
“I didn’t. But it wouldn’t have mattered if we never came face-to-face. I could see right in front of me what you had created. A thriving business. People eating, drinking, having fun. Camaraderie. You’re a success, Dylan. And that makes me feel good.”
Six
Mia almost regretted her honesty. Dylan’s visible discomfort was not the reaction she had expected. But he responded gruffly, “I’m glad.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said quickly. “I’m not taking credit for your success. That’s all you. But in high school you were at a critical juncture, and I like to think I helped...at least a little.”
“Of course you did.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “If you have everything you need, I think I’ll turn in. Whenever the baby naps tomorrow, you and I can go over the books, and hopefully you can get started when time permits.”
The switch from personal to business gave her mental whiplash. Had Dylan been offended by what she said? Perhaps he thought she was presumptuous to pat herself on the back. Maybe the feeling she was trying to express had come out all wrong. “Dylan, I didn’t mean that you couldn’t have done it without me. That’s not what I was saying.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, the line and angles of his face set in stone. “But it’s true, isn’t it? Without your help, I would have flunked out of high school. And when I dropped out of college, if my family hadn’t had money I would have ended up flipping burgers at a fast-food place.”
“That’s crazy, I—”
He strode out of the room so quickly she was caught off guard. Running to catch up, she followed him across the huge, open living area. Just before he reached the wing where their bedrooms were located, she grabbed his sleeve. “Listen to me, Dylan. Your money isn’t what made the saloon a success. It’s you. The way you draw people together. Everybody loves hanging out at the Silver Dollar because you’ve made it comfortable and fun. Do you know how much I wish I had your gift for reaching people?”
He stopped. Not much choice, really, with her hanging on to his arm. But his face softened. “Still trying to save me from myself, Mia?”
“You don’t need saving,” she insisted. “But that chip on your shoulder must be getting hard to carry.”
He ignored her deliberate provocation. “I’m meeting with the insurance adjustor at ten tomorrow. I should be back sometime after lunch. We can work on the bookkeeping stuff then. My housekeeper will be here in the morning. Please make yourself at home.”
Before she could respond, he disappeared into his suite of rooms and closed the door firmly behind him.
Mia stood, nonplussed, and felt a rush of mortification. She shouldn’t have brought up the past. Clearly it was still a sore spot. But it baffled her that no one else saw this side of Dylan. At the saloon, the customers related to him like he was a rock star, the women giggly and starry-eyed and the men standing a little straighter and pulling in their beer guts in an attempt to emulate the man whom everyone admired.
Dylan, by every definition, was a success in life, both professionally and personally. Despite his aborted engagement, he had surrounded himself with a wide circle of family and friends. Someday there might be a woman lucky enough and smart enough to snag him for a husband.
Turning and tiptoeing into her suite so as not to wake the baby, Mia crawled into bed and turned out the light. In the dark, and in a strange place, she heard all sorts of pops and creaks as the house settled for the night. To take her mind off the unfamiliar noises, she imagined what Dylan might be doing. Perhaps he had showered and walked nude back into his bedroom. It was safe to imagine that a man like him slept in the buff. Just thinking about it made Mia shiver.
Sex with the professor had been unexceptional. Unlike Indiana Jones, Mia’s short-lived lover had a body almost as soft as a woman’s. The most physical thing he ever did was lift his arm as he wrote on the dry-erase board. Surely she wasn’t so shallow that she had to have rock-hard abs and spectacularly defined muscles to get turned on.
A more likely and more palatable explanation was the fact that Dylan had stolen a piece of her heart when she was fifteen, and she had never gotten it back. She was an adult woman now. With needs. Needs that went beyond the necessity of finding a job or a place to live.
Sometimes at night, she lay in bed imagining what it would be like if she had a husband tucked in beside her, a soul mate to share the ups and downs of being a parent. It wasn’t that she was afraid to work hard. She would do anything to ensure Cora’s happiness and well-being. But even so, single parenting was lonely.
She didn’t regret getting pregnant. Cora was a gift unlike any she had ever received in her life. Perhaps she was overthinking her decision. In the end, it didn’t really matter if she had chosen a less-than-perfect route to motherhood. The deed was done. She had a baby. And the two of them were a family.
Moments later, hovering on the edge of sleep, deliciously drowsy and comfortable in Dylan’s luxurious guest bed, Mia groaned when she heard the unmistakable sound of her daughter’s cry.
Dragging herself upright on the side of the bed, she scraped her hands through her hair and rubbed her temples. Judging by the experience of past nights, she had about sixty seconds to pacify her baby before Cora launched into full-scale squalling. With a deep breath and a prayer for patience, she headed for the adjoining room, wondering if she would ever again get a full night’s sleep.
* * *
Dylan heard Cora cry out. His first instinct was to get up and go see if he could help. But that seemed uncomfortably intimate in light of the fact that he and Mia had barely reconnected after not seeing each other for a dozen years. He had certainly never anticipated having her live in his house.
The truth was, he could more than afford to put her up at a hotel. Hell, his family owned the swank, exclusive Silver Beeches Lodge on top of the mountain. The hotel was no place for a baby, though. Not only might the other guests complain, but Mia and Cora needed privacy and space to be comfortable. He had more than enough room. One slip of a woman and her tiny infant were hardly likely to cramp his style, and besides, part of him wanted them close by.
He turned over in bed and lay
on his stomach, his face buried in one arm. The air-conditioning was set at the usual temp, but he felt hot and restless. It had been too long since he’d slept with a woman. Seeing his brother’s happiness made him jealous.
There...he’d admitted it. Which made him a pathetic lowlife. Knowing that his own engagement had crashed and burned when the woman he’d loved decided Hollywood had more to offer than Dylan Kavanagh had been a blow to his heart and his ego. He didn’t begrudge Liam his happiness. Not at all. His older brother deserved every ounce of joy he’d found in the exuberant Zoe.
But Dylan’s failure in the relationship department made him wonder if his judgment about women was as screwed up as his perception of numbers and letters.
Self-pity was a disgusting emotion. Normally, he spent little time bemoaning the defection of his fiancée, or even the fact that his reading comprehension sucked even now. But getting to know Mia again, on top of seeing the business he’d worked so hard to establish going up in smoke, had rattled him.
Tomorrow morning he’d get his head on straight. Tomorrow morning he’d make a fresh start in more ways than one.
In the meantime, surely it wasn’t hurting anyone if he imagined what Mia Larin looked like all grown up. And naked.
* * *
When light filtered into Mia’s room, she wanted to pull the covers over her head and pretend that it was still the dead of night. Cora had played on Mia’s bed, cooing and clutching a rattle, until almost one in the morning when she finally wore herself out and fell asleep. Mia had laid her daughter gently in her crib, returned to her own room and been comatose almost instantly. The baby awakened at five for her usual feeding, but thankfully, had gone right back to sleep.
Mia felt sluggish and hungover, which really wasn’t fair since she hadn’t consumed so much as half a glass of wine since the first day she decided to get pregnant. Before launching on her solo adventure, she had read book after book about nutrition, ovulation, maternal health and mental preparation. Given the repeated disappointments she had weathered as the months passed, there had been more than one occasion when a good, stiff drink might have helped.
Rolling onto her side, she glanced at the clock. The thought of another hour’s sleep sounded like heaven, but her stomach rumbled, and she knew that once Cora was up, Mia’s morning meal would consist of little more than a banana eaten standing up and a cup of coffee.
Ever so quietly, she dressed in jeans and a yellow cotton shirt that buttoned up the front. Maybe the cheery color would help cut through the fog of sleep deprivation.
Though she had never exactly been a fashion icon, her wardrobe lately tended more toward practical than stylish. Though she would have liked to appear trendy and put together for Dylan’s benefit, it probably wasn’t going to happen. Lately, more often than not, she noticed halfway through the day that Cora had spit up on her shoulder. Not exactly the way to entice a man.
With the baby monitor tucked in her pocket, Mia crossed the living room in her bare feet, making a beeline for the kitchen and the smell of coffee. Though Dylan had warned her his housekeeper would be in residence this morning, it was still somewhat of a shock to come face-to-face with an angular woman whose short-cropped gray hair—along with a black uniform—gave her a stern look. Mia judged her age to be between sixty-five and seventy.
“Oh,” Mia said, pulling up short. “I’m Mia Larin. And you must be Dylan’s housekeeper.”
When the woman smiled, her entire demeanor transformed. “That’s me,” she said. “My name’s Gertie. What can I get you for breakfast, dear?” Without asking, she poured a cup of coffee and pressed it into Mia’s hand, pointing out the sugar and creamer on the table.
Mia shook her head. “Please don’t think you have to wait on me. I’m here to work for Dylan. In fact, I was supposed to be living above the bar, but, well...you know what happened.”
Gertie grimaced. “A damn shame. But Dylan will put it to rights. That boy never loses sight of a goal. And by the way, my job is to take care of Mr. Kavanagh and his guests. He specifically asked me this morning to make sure you and the baby were settled in. So no back talk from you, young lady.” Her smile indicated that she was joking, but Mia had a feeling that crossing Gertie wouldn’t be a good idea.
“Well, in that case, I’d love some toast and one of those grapefruits over there.”
Gertie hunched her shoulders and scowled. “You nursing?”
It was a rather personal question from someone she had just met, but Mia answered anyway. “Yes, ma’am.” She’d been brought up to respect her elders. Despite Gertie’s position as housekeeper, Mia felt deference was in order.
“Then you need more food than that. You like your eggs scrambled?” At Mia’s nod, Gertie turned toward the refrigerator. “Newspaper’s on the counter. I know you young people get the headlines on your fancy phones or whatever, but in my opinion, nothing gets the day off to a good start like reading the comics and the obituaries over a decent cup of coffee.”
Mia, somewhat chastened, picked up the copy of the Asheville Citizen-Times. “Dylan subscribes to this?”
Gertie snorted. “No. I bring my copy from home. But I’ve caught him checking his stocks a time or two.”
“Have you worked for him very long?”
“Ever since he built this house. So, I suppose we’re closing in on three years or so.”
That answered the question of whether or not Dylan had put down roots when he fell in love. The engagement had been longer ago than that, so he must have broken ground for this amazing house simply because he wanted a place of his own.
Mia pretended an interest in the paper, but she was more enthralled in watching Gertie. The older woman moved about the kitchen with an economy Mia admired. Mia rarely cooked, and when she did, the results were never the same. She knew how to read a formula and how to follow rules. But somehow, her culinary efforts always fell short. Perhaps she could pick up a few tips while she was here.
In no time, Gertie set a plate of eggs, sausage and biscuits in front of Mia, flanked by a small bowl holding a perfectly sliced and sectioned grapefruit half. “Thank you,” Mia said. “This looks delicious.”
“It is.” Gertie’s grin was smug. “Mr. Dylan likes a clean house, but he didn’t hire me ’cause I know how to vacuum. That boy loves his food.”
“You’d never know it to look at him.” Mia’s face flamed, realizing that it probably wasn’t good form to exhibit such oblique though obvious appreciation of her landlord’s physical attributes.
Gertie merely chuckled. “He burns it off. Never sits still that I can tell. How do you two know each other?’
“We were in school together.”
“Ah.” Gertie washed the iron skillet she’d used to fix Mia’s eggs and dried it with a paper towel. “Mr. Dylan told me you’re going to be doing the books for him. I want you to know that I’d consider it an honor to take care of the baby whenever you ask.”
Mia gaped. “Well, uh...”
“Oh, you can trust me, honey. I’ve got five kids of my own and twelve grandchildren. Don’t get to see them as much as I’d like. They’re spread all over the country. But I’m good with babies.”
“That’s a lovely offer,” Mia said faintly, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I’m sure it will take me a few days to get into the swing of things, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’d do anything for Mr. Dylan.”
There was a certain level of fervor in the terse statement that begged for a question. “Because he pays well?”
“No.” Gertie paused. “Well, yes, he does. But that’s not what I meant. Mr. Dylan helped me out of a tight spot once, and I owe him.”
Mia wasn’t nosy as a rule. And she certainly wasn’t assertive in situations like this. But Gertie seemed primed to share information. “How so?”
The housekeeper poured herself a cup of coffee, leaned against the counter and took a sip. Black. No sugar. “One of my grandsons came to live with me three summers ago. He’d been raisin’ hell back home and his momma and daddy thought a change of scenery would do him good. But the little weasel brought drugs with him here to Silver Glen and tried to sell them. Sheriff caught him and tossed him in jail. I had to bail him out.”
“So Dylan loaned you the money?”
“I had the money. It wasn’t that. But I’m an old woman. A fifteen-year-old boy with an attitude won’t take advice, even from me. Dylan hauled his butt out of jail and gave him a tongue-lashing for upsetting his grandmother. The boy had a choice between doing jail time, going home to his momma and daddy or working for Dylan all summer.”
“I’m assuming he chose Dylan?”
“Sure did. In ten weeks, Mr. Dylan talked more sense into that hardheaded rascal than the rest of us put together. The kid looked up to him, and the lectures came easier from his mentor than from me or his parents. My grandson is in college now. Making straight As. And he hasn’t touched drugs since he left Silver Glen. Mr. Dylan did that.”
Mia ate her breakfast in silence, her respect for Dylan growing. Perhaps because he’d been such a hell-raiser himself, he understood the mind-set of a rebellious teenage boy. Not that Dylan had ever dabbled in drugs. He’d been a sports fiend, determined to keep his body in top physical shape. But he had definitely taken pride in flouting authority.
It didn’t take a psychologist to see that Dylan had been compensating for his struggles in the classroom. It was no help that his older brother, Liam, had breezed through high school and gone on past college to get an advanced degree.
Sibling rivalry at that age was tough. Dylan must have felt the sting of not measuring up. So to prove he didn’t care, he’d pulled stunts like kidnapping Mr. Everson’s prize bull and tying it to the flagpole in the center of town. Dumping a case of red food coloring and a gallon of detergent into the fountain in front of the bank. Snitching the principal’s ugly burgundy blazer and literally running it up the flagpole.
Baby for Keeps Page 6