Distraction (Club Destiny Book 8)

by Nicole Edwards

  Her therapist was right about one thing … when Sarah gave a part of herself to someone, she didn’t get those pieces back, leaving her not quite whole.

  And the spiral had repeated itself for a year while she’d rekindled that friendship with Dylan, resulting in the fiery end to what had started out as a hesitant companionship.

  Now, with another three years behind her, she was finally back in control.

  Kind of.

  Maybe.

  Turned out, she had never managed to forget that night or the man she’d come to refer to as her distraction. Dylan was the first boy she had ever kissed back when she’d been a hope-filled freshman in high school, the last man she’d been with back when she had all but accepted that all hope was gone. Unlike high school, when she’d been a naïve teenager, she had no excuse for that night. She was old enough to know better, but still, she’d allowed her hormones to lead the way.

  Nope, they weren’t in high school anymore, and he definitely wasn’t a boy, nor was he the sexy jock every girl swooned over, every boy wanted to be like, and no matter who you were, you just wanted to be near. Sarah had been one of those girls, the ones who’d fawned over him, worshipped the very ground he walked on, although she had done her best to hide it. And for the briefest moment, Dylan had been hers.

  Back then.

  Yep, that was until he had fallen in love with the beautiful, kind-hearted Meghan Carpenter, who would later become Meghan Thomas. Ever since stumbling upon Dylan, and his son, Nate, at a school function—the last place she would’ve expected to see him—Sarah hadn’t been able to completely shake her thoughts of him. No matter how hard she tried.

  “Thinking about him is not helping,” she said aloud. “Not helping at all.”

  Pulling her thoughts out of the clouds, Sarah peered down at her feet.

  “What?” she asked, looking down at her two sweetly mischievous cats when they wandered into the room. “It’s just a little rain.”

  The sound could be heard on the roof, and Smokey and Blue had never been fond of storms. The weatherman had been predicting it for the past couple of weeks, and it appeared that Mother Nature was finally coming through for him.

  Her thoughts instantly drifted back to Dylan as she peered out the window once more. For a brief moment, she wondered what he was doing right that minute. Was he at home? Was he out with a woman? Was he happy? Was he sad? Dylan Thomas might be tall, dark, and obscenely handsome, but the man was more than just a little cracked—he was irrevocably broken.

  Though she’d reluctantly accepted her therapist’s diagnosis that she was a fixer, Sarah knew deep down, there was no fixing Dylan. When he was ready, when he found the right woman, he would move forward. Of that, she had no doubt.

  Which meant…

  “I’m not the right woman.” Sarah shook her head. “Nope,” she told her cats, “I’m not her. Never will be. He made sure I understood that.”

  Sure, Sarah knew what Dylan saw when he looked at her. Well, maybe not the woman she was now, but before. He’d seen a sweet, innocent schoolteacher with short, curly hair and a petite, curvaceous figure. Although her hair was longer now, and she’d shed the sweet-and-innocent vibe she’d been plagued by, along with the extra fifteen pounds she’d been carrying around since college, Sarah still wasn’t the leggy, dark-haired bombshell like Meghan had been. Nor was she graced with exotic beauty like the women married to the men Dylan worked with.

  The truth was, men had never looked at her and thought sexy blond. They’d never fantasized about her, never imagined wild monkey sex.

  She snorted.

  Despite the outer appearance, she damn sure wasn’t Sandra Dee. Sweet and innocent, she definitely was not. Only no one had ever really noticed. Instead, the men from her past—startlingly few that there were—had always wanted to coddle her, protect her.

  No, not only did she still get carded for alcohol though she was thirty-eight years old, she was also blandly plain despite the tattoos and the makeup. Oh, and then there was the fact that she was short, which, unlike the way the romance novels depicted, didn’t mean she fit nicely into the crook of a man’s arm, it simply meant she wasn’t tall enough to do anything without a damn stepladder.

  A gruff snort escaped her as she made her way to the kitchen, noticing the stepladder stuck in the narrow nook between the refrigerator and the wall. Yep, at four foot eleven and three-quarters inches, Sarah couldn’t reach the second shelf in the upper cabinets. Paul used to enjoy making fun of her, even though he hadn’t been but a few inches taller.

  “I wish you were here to laugh at me now, Paul,” she whispered into the otherwise silent house.

  And he would have. Every time.

  But unlike Paul, Dylan was tall. And although she had liked the way Dylan had towered over her, making her feel incredibly feminine by comparison, other than at that moment in time, being short didn’t do much for her.

  “Ugghh.” She really had to stop thinking about him.

  Attacking the few dishes she’d left in the sink that morning, Sarah tried desperately to forget about the man who had somehow wormed his way back into her brain in the last week. But it wasn’t because she lusted after him.

  Although there was that.

  No, Dylan had caught Sarah’s attention again, all right, but he wasn’t the strong, sexy boy of yesteryear whom she’d had some hot and heavy make-out sessions with during high school. The man she had glimpsed at that company function was the same man she’d given in to three years ago—quiet, reserved, and still very damaged. A man who had lost his wife yet had never gotten over it. A man who had stopped living his life because he was too busy feeling as though he didn’t deserve to live it to the fullest.

  At one point, Sarah had thought they were kindred spirits. Now, she knew they weren’t. She wasn’t the sad, broken-hearted woman she’d been back then. She had reinvented herself, forced herself to move on. They were too different to ever work. No matter how hot she found him.

  Gone was the Sarah who sat idly by, waiting for life to come to her, or befriending every single lost soul because she wanted to give them some sunshine in their lives. That girl was gone forever, and there were too many reasons that woman had been chased out of town, told to never return, and in her place was the new Sarah. The go-after-what-you-want-until-you-get-it Sarah.

  At least that was the woman Sarah was striving to be, even if it killed her.

  Drying the last dish, Sarah placed it in the cabinet before looking around her kitchen. Nothing left to do. Yet there was so much pent up energy lurking just beneath her skin and no way to release it. And it wasn’t just energy stored up from an idle day. This was the type of energy that had been building for years, ready for an outlet, and the new Sarah needed a plan.

  In walked Smokey and Blue, as though they could sense the shift in her mood. Wild, rambunctious and, most of the time, the only two who would listen to her rant, although she was pretty sure they ignored her all other times, the two kittens she had rescued had grown into independent, sweetly mischievous cats. And now they were looking at her like she was the crazy cat lady she feared she would become.

  “What?” she asked them both as they sat on the floor at her feet, staring up at her as if they could figure out what it was she was thinking as long as they looked at her long enough. “I’m not crazy, I promise.” She smiled. “Okay, fine. Maybe I am. A little. But at least I’m not talking to myself.”

  Clearly feeling the building excitement, Smokey and Blue wound themselves around her feet, batting at one another before rolling around on the floor like they normally did, ready for her to give in and rub their bellies.

  Staring down at the pair, Sarah knew exactly what she needed to do.

  And with her mind made up, she made a mad dash for her cell phone, desperate to make the call before she lost her nerve.

  “WHERE’S EVERYONE AT?” DYLAN CALLED when he walked into his grandfather’s house at eleven thirty that night. Th
e sound of voices had him heading toward the living room, stopping just inside the room, surprised to see his son, Nate, there, talking to Sarah’s nephew, Jake.

  It was Friday night, and from experience, his kids generally had plans that involved friends, clubs, bars, and the like, not sitting at home doing nothing like these two appeared to be doing. Then again, they looked to be in a rather heated conversation, one that Nate didn’t seem too happy about.

  Dylan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, watching them. They clearly hadn’t expected him to show up, nor had they heard him. Clearing his throat, he pushed off the wall. There was a brief pause as the two men stilled, then one at a time they turned to look at him.

  “What are you two up to?” Dylan waited patiently for one of them to answer, his head pounding behind his eyes. It’d been a long day, one that he wanted to soothe with a bottle of Jack but knew he couldn’t. Not only because he’d dumped every last ounce of alcohol he owned years ago but also because he didn’t want to go back there. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was feeling as though he was more than a shadow in the darkness.

  “You look like shit,” Nate offered, a scowl on his face. “You seriously need to shave.”

  Dylan ground his molars together, trying not to lose his temper. It seemed that over the course of the last couple of months, Nate had changed from the good-natured young man Dylan had raised to a mouthy, irritated version. Something was going on with him, but Dylan had yet to figure out what.

  “Good to see you, too,” Dylan grumbled, his eyes darting back and forth between them. “What’s goin’ on? You two talkin’ about work?”

  Both young men had voiced their concern for the changes taking place, but neither of them had gone into detail. Not with him. If they’d talked to Alex, Dylan didn’t know about it.

  “No,” Jake stated, obviously feeling the tension increasing in the room. “I was just tellin’ Nate that I wouldn’t be able to go out tomorrow night because I’ve got to cat sit.”

  “Cat sit?” Dylan was confused. Who the hell did Jake know that had cats?

  “Yeah, my aunt Sarah called a few minutes ago and asked if I would check on her cats tomorrow night. Apparently she’s got weekend plans. She doesn’t expect to be back until late Sunday.”

  Just the mention of Sarah’s name made Dylan’s chest ache.

  The sad truth was, he missed her.

  Despite the fact he wanted to hear the sweet lilt of her voice—something that had recently started tugging at his conscience again—his pride hadn’t allowed him to pick up the phone to call her, or even attempt to make amends last weekend at the CISS party.

  “You don’t have to stay with the cats,” Nate stated, his tone laced with frustration. “They’re independent. If you check on them, they’ll be fine.”

  Jake didn’t respond.

  “Seriously, Jake,” Nate continued. “She’s not leaving till tomorrow morning. And she’ll be back on Sunday.”

  Dylan waited, hoping one of them would add a few more details. Clearly Nate was up to speed. But Dylan wanted to know where Sarah was going, who she was going with, what they were going to do. Not that it was any of his damn business, but he certainly didn’t like what his brain was conjuring up: her going away with Bill the Douchebag for the weekend.

  He’d managed to pound the final nail in the coffin that was their friendship long ago, but that didn’t stop Dylan from wanting her.

  Jake’s eyes shot from Dylan to Nate and then back.

  Fine, if he wasn’t going to come out with it… “Where’s she goin’?” he asked, trying to sound as though he weren’t all that interested, but the huff he got from Nate said he’d failed.

  Jake shrugged. “No idea.”

  “You don’t know?” Okay, so he sounded stupid interrogating Jake about something better left alone.

  It’s not your business.

  “She’s been seein’ this guy. Bill something or other. You know, the one who came to the company party,” Jake went on to explain.

  Bill the car salesman. Yep, Dylan definitely remembered. He also remembered how Sarah had said it wasn’t serious, only to backtrack quickly.

  “Sounds like he’s invited her to some fancy party somewhere,” Jake added.

  Was it serious?

  Did she love this guy?

  There were plenty more questions running amuck in his brain, but Dylan held his tongue.

  Stop! Just fucking stop!

  Despite the annoying voice in his head, Dylan couldn’t let it go.

  “Do you know this guy well?” Dylan asked, again trying to keep his tone neutral. Just small talk, nothing more. It wasn’t completely out of left field. Jake was close to his aunt; everyone knew that. She’d practically raised him.

  “I’ve talked to him a couple of times,” Jake said cautiously. “I didn’t think it was serious, but…”

  Yeah, but she was going away with him.

  Jake continued, his brows downturned, “She said somethin’ about not holdin’ back any longer.” Jake glanced around the room, obviously seeing that Nate was gone.

  “How did they meet?” Okay, so now he just sounded pathetic, but so fucking what. There was a spark of something darkly possessive that had just taken complete control of him, and Dylan couldn’t stop the questions.

  He seriously needed a drink.

  “I don’t really know. She doesn’t talk about him much. He works at a car dealership, that’s all she’s ever said.” Jake was now looking at him funny. “Is everything okay?”

  Shit no. But he wasn’t about to tell the kid that. “Fine. Just … curious. So, cat sitting? Tomorrow night?”

  “Wow, Dylan.” Jake narrowed his eyes at him. “You’ve been out of the game way too long, man. That was in no way subtle.”

  No, he didn’t think it was, but fuck. Sarah was going away with a guy. For some strange (and clearly selfish) reason, the idea did not sit well with him.

  Not at all.

  But his brain was too damn foggy for him to think rationally. Three fucking years, dumb ass. In all that time, he hadn’t made one single attempt to talk to her. Not once. Why should he care where she was going? Or who she was or wasn’t with?

  His mind instantly flashed back to that night when he’d gone to her house after he’d been at the cemetery visiting Meghan’s grave. He’d known as soon as he called her that he was making a horrible mistake, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.

  Dylan forced himself back to the present when he heard Jake clear his throat. He met the other man’s curious gaze.

  “Is there somethin’ goin’ on between you and my aunt?” Jake questioned directly.

  Dylan shook his head. “No. Why?”

  Jake shrugged. “It’s just…”

  “What?”

  “It’s just that she was acting kinda funny … when she saw you last weekend.”

  Funny how? He wanted to know but didn’t bother to ask.

  “Look,” Jake said, hands on his hips. “I don’t wanna overstep, but…”

  “She’s your aunt,” Dylan filled in for him. “I get it.”

  “She’s more than that,” Jake countered. “She’s the woman who raised me when my own mother wouldn’t stick around.” His eyes dropped to his hands. “I don’t wanna see her hurt.”

  By him? Or by Bill? Dylan couldn’t bring himself to voice those questions, either.

  “I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” Jake said, his eyes not quite meeting Dylan’s. “So, if there’s somethin’ goin’ on…”

  “There’s not,” he assured the kid.

  “Just don’t hurt her, okay? These past few years, she’s been different. She’s been through enough.”

  They both had, Dylan thought. Instead of arguing, he nodded, understanding Jake’s words as the warning they were meant to be. But now, he couldn’t stop thinking about Sarah, couldn’t help but wonder if it was possible for the two of them…

 
As he fought back that strange emotion that whirled in his chest, threatening to pull him under, Dylan had to wonder whether Sarah was the reason he needed to keep moving forward.

  More importantly, if that was the case, was he finally in a place to tell her that she was?

  “One more question…” Dylan had to ask, otherwise he would never know.

  Jake cocked an eyebrow.

  “I know she moved. What’s her new address?”

  chapter SIX

  “ARE YOU READY?” BILL ASKED, standing in the doorway of Sarah’s house the following morning, looking at her with so much hope in his eyes.

  If she wasn’t mistaken, his eyes were a little puffy and he’d started sneezing the instant he stepped foot in her house. The tissue he kept swiping across his nose wasn’t ramping up his attractiveness, either.

  “Do you have … allergies?” she inquired, already knowing the answer.

  “Just a little,” he said, sniffing once more. “Nothing serious, though. Probably something in the air.”

  Right.

  Sarah observed him again, praying he wasn’t having a major allergic reaction to something. He seemed to be playing it off, but he didn’t look as though he was having too much fun at the moment. He looked…

  Bill wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense, but he wasn’t ugly, either. He was thin and short for a man—probably no more than five six, if that—with clear blue eyes, a clean-shaven jaw, and perfectly styled medium-brown hair. All in all, he was well-dressed, polite, quite plain, and … sweet.

  And therein lay the problem.

  Bill was sweet.

  And boring.

  What the hell had she been thinking when she’d called him up last night and agreed to this? Clearly she’d been inhaling toxic household chemicals or something. It was the only excuse she had as to why it had ever even remotely sounded like a good idea.