by Lily Everett
Eyes wide, cheeks flushed, chest heaving—Penny looked stunned, as if she couldn’t believe this was happening.
Dylan swallowed, throat clicking loudly in the heated silence between them, and she pushed up off his chest. For a guy who didn’t believe in guilt or regret, Dylan found himself taking a dive right into it.
What was he doing, making out with this woman in her kitchen, with her kid right upstairs, and this huge lie between them? This was not a woman to be toyed with and cast aside, Dylan knew.
“Penny,” he said hoarsely, “there’s something I have to tell you.”
The sound of a throat being cleared had them leaping to their feet instead, untangling their arms and legs in a disheveled flurry. Matthew stood in the doorway, angular face dark with anger.
“I knew it,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Dylan, who could only be grateful that the close shave with spilling the truth about his identity had killed his erection.
“Mom, what are you doing with this guy? Tell him to get lost!”
Shooting Dylan an apologetic glance, Penny hurried forward. “Now, honey. I know this is probably weird for you, but Dylan and I … it was only a kiss. Not anything for you to worry about.”
Matt twitched away from her, sidestepping so he could keep his glare focused on Dylan, who stood there feeling helpless and crappy. “I never meant to cause any trouble here.”
“Well, you are, so why don’t you fuck off!” Matt shouted.
“Matthew!” Penny looked as if she ached to grab the kid by the scruff of the neck and shake him. “There’s no call for that kind of language! Apologize to Mr. Workman, right this minute.”
“I’m not apologizing,” Matt sneered, though his lips trembled. “And if he’s staying, I’m leaving.”
He turned to go, and a note of iron entered his mother’s voice. “If you walk out of this kitchen right now, you’re grounded for the next month. End of discussion. No second chances, Matthew.”
Dylan winced, reading Matt’s answer to that in the defiant set of his rigid shoulders.
“So what,” the kid snarled, eyes unnaturally bright with unshed tears of anger. “You think I care about being grounded? I don’t have any friends on this stupid island, anyway. I hate it here. I wish we’d never moved away from Charlottesville. I wish I could go back and live with Dad instead!”
Penny gasped and fell back a step as if her son had planted a hand in the center of her chest and shoved her. Frozen into pale silence, she watched Matt turn on his heel and run from the kitchen. He bounded up the stairs, and the slam of his bedroom door made her flinch as if she’d been slapped awake.
She started after him, but Dylan caught her wrist, heart hammering and guilt churning in his belly. “Let him cool down, and tomorrow … I’ll talk to him, man to man. It’s my fault he’s so upset, let me try to fix it.”
A sharp tremor ran through her. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I don’t know how to deal with him when he’s like this. He’s so angry, all the time, but if he knew the truth…”
Dylan frowned, the phrase tugging at his memory. There was more to the story of why she’d taken her kid and run from her ex, but this wasn’t the time to dig deeper. “If I’m going to stay here, even for a few days or weeks to finish off your to-do list, Matt and I need to come to an understanding.”
Penny bit her kiss-swollen bottom lip, clearly torn between the need to make sure her son was all right, and the hope that Dylan would be able to get through to him. “Okay, but I apologize in advance for how rude he’ll probably be. And Dylan?”
She grabbed his hand and brought it to her mouth, pressing a shaky kiss to his knuckles. He felt it like a brand.
“Thank you,” she said.
She wouldn’t be thanking him with stars in her eyes if she knew he’d been lying to her since the moment they met, Dylan thought, heart sinking. But maybe getting to the bottom of whatever was troubling Matt would cancel out his deception, or at least balance the scales enough that Dylan would be able to face himself in the mirror.
And even though he knew he didn’t deserve Penny’s gratitude, he had to admit it felt good to be looked at like that, to feel like he was helping her. The way she made him feel like there was hope for him yet, like he could be a better man—it was addictive.
Even if it was all built on a lie, Dylan wasn’t ready to give it up.
Chapter Six
“Heads up, burning hunk of man meat has entered the building.”
Penny nearly fumbled the pitcher of ice water she was pouring from. Her friend, Greta Hackley, shielded her lap with the Firefly Café’s laminated menu and gave Penny a mischievous look. “Careful, there. I know it’s been a while since either of us had access to a man we didn’t go to kindergarten with. The fact that he’s ridiculously sexy—and dropped a bundle of cash on top-of-the-line tools at my store—as well as mysterious is just a bonus, really. But I’m not so overheated about it that my crotch needs an ice bath.”
“Keep your voice down,” Penny hissed, using a corner of her apron to mop up the water she’d dribbled onto the table. Without even turning around, she knew who Greta had seen walk through the café door.
She didn’t need to turn around … but she couldn’t quite help herself.
Sure enough, a quick glance over her shoulder showed Dylan at the hostess stand in his dark jeans and white T-shirt, his hard jaw rough with just enough stubble to make him look like he’d rolled out of some lucky woman’s bed. His bright blue eyes scanned the restaurant, and Penny tilted her head in the direction of the corner booth where Matt was hunched over a book.
Giving her a nod, Dylan headed toward the back of the restaurant, and Penny sent up a silent prayer that she was doing the right thing.
When she dropped her gaze back to Greta’s expectant stare, Penny pressed her lips together. “Don’t make a fuss. He’s just a man.”
A man who was about to have a heart-to-heart with her son.
“Riiiiight.” Greta’s dark eyes snapped with curiosity. “And a Ferrari is just a car.”
Penny leaned her hip on the edge of the booth, lowering her voice. “He drives a motorcycle.”
Greta moaned. “You’re killing me, here. If you try to tell me Dylan Workman gives you no special feelings in your lady parts, I’ll have to call Dr. Fairfax to check you for a pulse.”
“He’s hot, okay, yes,” Penny admitted, frustrated and on edge. “But it’s not that simple.”
“It could be,” Greta said hopefully. “Dylan could be exactly what you need to break your dry spell.”
Penny laughed, but it sounded harsh to her own ears. “Dry spell. More like total lockdown. Ever since Trent, the instant I get close to a man, all I can think about is…”
She broke off, swallowing back the tinny taste of adrenaline and fear, the instinctive flinch.
“I know, sweetie.” Greta’s strong-boned face went soft with understanding. “What happened to you was awful, scarring—and I can’t imagine how hard it is to trust another man, after that. But Dylan isn’t Trent.”
“You’re such a closet romantic,” Penny said, shaking her head. But the comparison helped. Dylan wasn’t Trent. For one thing, Trent had never shown much interest in spending time with his own son—and here Dylan was, attempting to mend a fence he wasn’t even responsible for breaking.
Dylan was … unlike any man she’d ever known, actually.
“Yes, I have a slight romantic streak,” Greta hissed, glancing around with alarm. “Don’t spread it around, I have a reputation to uphold. My brothers would never let me hear the end of it.”
Breathing in a deep, calming breath, Penny said, “Want to hear something romantic? Dylan kissed me last night.”
Greta gasped. “Girl! You are docked at least a hundred friend points for not leading with that information. How was it?”
A shiver of remembered passion gripped Penny for a delicious heartbeat. “Wonderful, while it lasted—which is basica
lly the story of our whole potential relationship. I mean, what relationship? He’s only here on the island until he finishes the work on the house! I’d be crazy to open myself up to the pain of being left behind.”
“Sweetie. I say this with love and understanding, but you are one of the most closed-off people I’ve ever known. Your life motto is No Second Chances. If this guy makes you want to take a chance and open up, even just long enough to experience a little joy and pleasure?” Greta cocked her head. “You’d be crazy not to get with him. Yes, for however long it lasts.”
Before Penny could argue or agree—she honestly wasn’t sure which—Greta’s gaze snagged on something behind them.
Glancing over her shoulder, Penny saw that Dylan had installed himself in the corner booth, across from Matt. A weird pang hit her heart at the sight of their two dark heads leaned close across the table, the expression on Dylan’s face as serious and intent as if he were speaking to the president of the United States.
“Maybe I should go over there. Should I?” Penny fretted. “Not that it would help. Matt hasn’t said three words to me all day. I had to threaten to withhold his comic book allowance to get him to come with me to the restaurant today, but I wanted to keep an eye on him.”
Greta’s dark blond brows lifted almost to her hairline. “If you want to keep an eye on him, you better look quick. They’re leaving. Together.”
“What?”
Penny whirled around in time to catch a final glimpse of Matt preceding Dylan out the back door of the café. The back door led out onto a seaside patio deck, usually empty during the heat of the summer noon. What on earth was going on?
“I’d better go check on them, make sure Matty’s okay,” Penny said.
“Not so fast,” Greta muttered, jerking her head toward the kitchen where a tall, bald man was glaring balefully at them over a pile of dishes waiting to be served. Chef/owner of the Firefly Café, Alonzo Chappelle was a marshmallow to work for—most of the time.
Rushing up to the pass-through window, Penny apologized profusely as she gathered up the rapidly cooling plates of food. “I’m so sorry, Lonz! I’ll straighten these orders out, I promise. And then—can I maybe take my afternoon break? Please! I have to talk to Matty.”
Lonz scowled, but waved her away. “Sure, for Matty. Go, go.”
Balancing orders for five different tables on her arms, Penny went, as carefully but as quickly as she could.
Her mother senses, which had been tingling for months, were suddenly clamoring like a fire alarm. Something had been up with Matty for a long time, something more than the regular stresses of adolescence, but this felt different.
Her son was in trouble.
But no alarm on the planet could’ve been warning enough for what Penny saw when she finally squared away her tables and slipped out the back door.
Across the deck, next to the stone wall that separated the patio from the wide, blue ocean, Dylan and Matt faced off like boxers in the ring.
And as she watched, horrified, Dylan drew back one brawny arm and let fly with a punch toward her child’s face—and Penny was plunged suddenly into the nightmare she’d left her husband and their entire life behind to avoid.
*
“Get away from my son.”
The low, terrible voice from behind him had Dylan pulling his punch before he meant to, stumbling forward just in time for Matt to prove he’d learned the new block by executing it directly into Dylan’s jaw.
Matt’s knuckles cracked hard into Dylan’s chin, and they both said, “Ow!” simultaneously.
Seeing stars, Dylan shook it off, vaguely aware of Penny brushing roughly past him.
“Mom, look what you made me do!” Matt exclaimed, looking half apologetic and half thrilled at getting a shot in.
“He’ll be lucky if that’s the worst he gets,” Penny snarled, and Dylan gave her a sharp look.
Her cheeks were whiter than the sand on the beach, but her eyes burned with a poisonous green rage that sent a chill through Dylan’s blood.
“Wait.” Dylan’s hands dropped lifelessly to his sides. “Do you honestly think I was about to hit him?”
“I know what I saw.” Penny’s voice was hard and brittle, like ice cracking over a frozen pond. Betrayal and fury strung every muscle taut as she faced him down, ranging herself between her child and the man she suddenly perceived as a threat.
Fighting an answering surge of betrayal, Dylan deliberately stepped down and made himself less imposing by sprawling into a nearby café chair. “I guess it looked bad, but Penny, come on. Is that honestly what you think of me?”
Something flickered in her gaze, but before she could reply, Matt spoke up from over her shoulder. “Mom. Come off it. Dylan was just showing me a couple of moves.”
“Moves?” Penny’s spine was so stiff, he could’ve used her as a battering ram.
Working his jaw from side to side, Dylan tongued at the sore spot where his teeth cut into his lip. “Yep. He’s a natural. But don’t expect a block to work like that every time. You usually have to throw a fist on purpose to get a solid hit.”
“That’s enough.” Penny’s chest heaved, spots of dark red appearing high on her cheekbones.
Dylan stared. She was still pissed, even though he obviously hadn’t been beating up on Matt. “What is your problem?”
Her throat worked. “My problem,” she said slowly, “is with you teaching my son violence and aggression. I don’t know how you live your life, but my son doesn’t need to know how to ‘throw a fist’ or get a ‘solid hit.’”
The palpable disgust in her voice when she echoed Dylan’s lesson made him recoil slightly. Feeling attacked, he came back with, “Oh yeah? Maybe you should talk to your son, instead of assuming you know what he needs.”
Penny blinked. Over her shoulder, Matt was frantically shaking his head and making “Abort, abort!” gestures. Dylan raised his brows. He wasn’t about to get caught in the crossfire on this one.
“What do you mean…” Penny twisted to face her son. “What is he talking about? Is there something you want to tell me?”
Wiping all expression save a blank innocence off his face, Matt shrugged. “No, not really.”
Oh, kid. Dylan got it, he did. This was a sensitive subject. But Penny needed to know what was going on with her son.
Luckily, this wasn’t Penny’s first rodeo. Clearly unimpressed with Matt’s innocent act, she propped her hands on her hips and stared him down until he squirmed.
“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “I asked Dylan for a few tips on fighting. Just in case.”
Hmm. Not exactly the way Dylan remembered the conversation, but okay.
“In case of what?” Penny demanded, her gaze darting suspiciously between her son and her handyman.
Dylan held up his hands. “I think maybe this is my cue to bow out. Seems like this is a family matter, and you probably want privacy.”
To his surprise, Penny squeezed her eyes shut in a full-body flinch. “A family matter,” she repeated, her voice a thready whisper. “Oh, God. Matty…”
Matt’s face darkened, his hands clenching. “I’ve asked you a billion times to quit calling me by that dumb baby name. It’s like you don’t even hear me! I hate it!”
I hate you.
He didn’t say it, biting his lips closed on the words, but they hung in the sea-swept air like a gull riding the wind.
Visibly shaken, Penny tried to pull herself together. “Don’t try to make this about a nickname.”
Dylan couldn’t stand to watch another second of this train wreck. But instead of beating a retreat back into the diner, he found himself leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on the patio table. “But that is what it’s about, at least partly.”
The kid shot him an agonized look, but Dylan shook his head. “Tell her. Or I will.”
“Ugh, fine!” Matt threw himself down to sit on the low stone wall separating the deck from the shore. “Some stuff
went down at school, last semester. I got in a couple of fights. Dylan said he could show me how to win, so I took him up on it. End of story.”
“No way, that’s nowhere near the end of the story.” Penny looked as if someone had bashed the back of her head with a rock. “Honey, what were you fighting about? That’s not like you!”
Some of the sulk drained out of Matt’s expression, leaving a weariness behind that Dylan hated to see in a kid his age. It reminded him too vividly of himself.
“Mom, come on. I have no friends. Everyone at that school thinks I’m a fat loser.”
“You’re not fat,” she said fiercely.
Matt rolled his eyes. “Not anymore, and thank God for growth spurts. But you know what they call me at school? What they’ve called me ever since we moved here?”
She covered her mouth with the fingers of one hand, as if she knew what was coming.
“Fatty Matty,” the kid said, pulling his long legs up onto the wall and wrapping his arms around his knees. “They make fun of me, Mom.”
“Why haven’t you told me about this before? If someone is bullying you, I’m not going to stand for that, I’ll call the principal, we can fix this!”
“And that’s why I never said anything,” Matt said quietly. “I don’t want you to feel like it’s your fault, or your problem. It’s my problem, Mom, I have to deal with it.”
“Not by hitting anyone!”
“What if someone hits him first?” Dylan couldn’t help interjecting. “I’m not saying Matt should start fights, but he damn well ought to know how to finish one.”
For the first time since Matt’s confession, Penny met Dylan’s stare. He was stunned by the depth of pain haunting her hazel gaze; in less than two days, he’d gotten used to seeing her eyes bright with laughter.
“The only true way to finish a fight,” Penny said quietly, “is to walk away. And never look back. Matt, come with me. Now.”
Responding instantly to the steel in his mother’s tone, Matt jumped off the stone ledge and hurried after her as she turned on her heel and strode back into the café.