Fall To Pieces

by Jami Alden

  Her lids drifted down again and a little moan erupted from her throat. "Not a single thing."

  She opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her, his eyes narrowed slightly as a grin pulled at his full lips. "What?" she snapped, her own eyes narrowing.

  He gave his head a little shake. "If that's the look you get on your face when I feed you I can only imagine..."

  "You're disgusting," she snapped, but couldn't stop the shot of electricity that sizzled through her. "Anyway, the soup is great. Maybe I'll have you make it when you cater my wedding."

  His grin faded. "Yeah, let me know if you get that on the calendar sometime this century," he said and turned to the grill to flip Sadie's chicken panini and then went to the fryer to pull out the basket containing her side of onion rings.

  "Very funny," she snapped, and handed him a cardboard to go box.

  "How long y'all been engaged again? Two years?"

  Actually it was three.

  "Seems to me," he continued as he slid the sandwich off the griddle, sliced it neatly in half and deposited it into the box, "that if a person really wanted to get married, he'd have done it by now."

  Molly felt an ache in her chest as Brady voiced her greatest fear. That despite their years together and the diamond on her left ring finger, Josh didn't really want to marry her after all. She shoved it aside, not about to let Brady see even the smallest hint of doubt. "It's not as simple as that. Josh has been really busy, growing his business."

  "You mean Daddy's business." Brady said as he put the onion rings in with the sandwich. He closed the box and handed it to her.

  While it was true Josh worked for his father's insurance brokerage business, in the past year he'd taken on more responsibility. "His dad has scaled back, and Josh has had to step up. And he's taken on a dozen new clients in just the past few months."

  Brady held out the box, his deadpan stare saying he didn't buy any of it.

  "Why am I explaining myself to you? Especially when from what I've seen any 'relationships,'" she made air quotes with her free hand, "don't even last through the weekend."

  He cocked a dark eyebrow. "You keeping tabs on me?"

  She rolled her eyes. "You wish." She turned on her heel an smacked open the door that led from the kitchen to the dining room. As she walked over to the bar she could feel her cheeks flame as she was forced to admit to herself that yes, she did notice whenever he sauntered out of the kitchen to flirt with a customer who'd caught his eye.

  Told herself it was disdain—nothing else—that she felt whenever she saw him out with his current flavor of the week, laughing, teasing, following her with his hot silver gaze.

  She could feel that same gaze trailing her even now. And told herself it didn't thrill her to her very core.

  ###

  "Move in with you?" Dylan repeated in a cautious tone.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Sadie said, cringing inside at his reaction. Was the idea of being so close to her so horrible? Someday, somehow she'd get through one conversation with Dylan without totally putting her foot in it. "What I meant was now that Andy's gone, we have a free cabin."

  "June used to live there," she continued, "but she had to move back to town with her mother. We let Andy move in, hoping that would help make up for having to work with Pete, but..." she trailed off.

  "Anyway, it's not much, but it has a separate bedroom and sitting area, and you'll have your own kitchen. It's even wired for satellite TV and wifi."

  "Won't you need it when you hire someone else?"

  She shook her head. "We're not going to find anyone, not before you leave anyway.” Tension pinched at the back of her skull as she tried not to dwell on what that might mean for her in the next few weeks. "We'll be lucky if we can find someone part time to help Pete with the hay harvest." Although she knew as of now, she was going to have to brush up on her tractor driving skills.

  "What's the rent?"

  She shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned you can stay for free."

  "I can afford to pay rent," he said, his eyes darkening.

  "I wasn't saying you can't," she held up a hand at his harsh tone. Clearly she'd hit a sore spot. "It will be empty, and it's not like I'd rent it to just anyone."

  His shoulders relaxed. "So you're saying I'm special," he said, his teeth flashing in a playful grin. And just like that he was the old charming, easy-going Dylan who made her blood simmer with a single look.

  She had a little moment of panic, wondering if she could really handle having Dylan living so close. Of course you can, you idiot. Your humiliating turn on the dance floor aside, you're a grown woman, not a spastic sixteen year old. And maybe, just maybe, if he's living close enough for long enough, you'll be able to erase his memory of that awkward teenager all together. Of course, it would help if her face didn't turn beet red at even the thought of trying to use her relatively newfound feminine wiles on a seasoned pro like Dylan. "Are you interested or not?"

  "Very," he said. Yet his tone was almost reluctant.

  Molly appeared and handed Sadie her food. "Thanks," she said to her friend and turned back to Dylan. "Great. Give us a little time to clean it out, and consider it yours."

  Chapter 4

  "You really don't have to leave," Damon said as he loaded a box into the back of Dylan's truck. It hadn't taken long to pack, as he didn't have much.

  A pile of books, a duffel bag full of clothes, his toolbox and his laptop were all that he'd taken back to Big Timber.

  "You and Ellie need your space. That was clear even before I caught you doing the nasty on your dinette set."

  Damon shot him a sheepish grin. "Still, it's been good having you around."

  "It's not like I'm going far," Dylan said as he shut the tailgate. "This way you have your privacy and I don't feel like a freeloader. It works out better for everyone."

  He texted Sadie to let her know he was on his way, left his brother with a back smacking bro-hug and headed out to the ranch.

  Ten minutes later he pulled up in front of the cabin where Sadie was sitting on the front steps waiting for him. The small wood structure sat a dozen or so yards away from the big house on the other side of the creek. She stood as soon as she spotted his truck, and he couldn't help but admire her long-legged stride as she walked over to the car. Once again she was dressed in slim fitting jeans. Today she'd paired them with a vintage concert t-shirt that clung to the curves of her breasts and showed off her slim arms.

  He swallowed as his mouth went suddenly dry and climbed out of the car, tried to quell the warmth that bubbled in his chest as she greeted him with a wide smile. Look all you want. But that's all you're ever going to do. You know in your gut Sadie's not a fling kind of gal. And you know that's all you have to offer.

  Even with that warning ringing in his head, he had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out and brushing a thick lock of auburn hair from her cheek as she stopped in front of him.

  "Come on, I'll help you get settled."

  Dylan followed her across the wooden footbridge and up onto the cabin's front porch where a couple of plastic chairs sat out for him to enjoy the view of the creek. The screen door creaked as she pulled it open and he followed her inside. The scent of furniture polish greeted him as his boots thudded on the wooden plank floor.

  The full tour took about five minutes. The cabin was less than a thousand square feet, but as promised it had a full kitchen, bathroom, and a bedroom big enough to hold a queen size bed and a dresser.

  "Like I said, it's not much," Sadie said as they went back out into the sitting room. She crossed to the window and threw back the drapes. Sunlight poured in to illuminate a worn but comfortable looking couch and coffee table. Behind the couch, a small dining table and two chairs made up the rest of the furniture.

  "It's great," he said.

  She gave him a relieved smile. "I'm so glad this worked out." She reached out and laid her hand on his forearm. The simple to
uch sent a wave of heat searing through him and the small space seemed to shrink even further.

  "Me too," he managed to choke out. "I'll go get my stuff." A red flag went off in his head, as he went out to his truck, her footsteps echoing behind him.

  It was the first of many he'd had since he'd taken her up on her offer of a place to live, one of many warnings that maybe living in such close proximity to Sadie wasn't the greatest plan.

  If she'd been any other woman he would have gone for it. Turned on the charm until he had her exactly where he wanted her. Which was naked and spread out on that bed back there.

  There had been plenty of situations with women where he'd been able to have his fun and walk away, no harm, no foul. But he didn't want to do that to Sadie. There was too much shared history, and he felt too much genuine affection towards her to play his usual game.

  He hadn't seen her for a long time, and while she tried to play it cool, he could still see the remnants of that schoolgirl crush lingering in her gaze. If he gave into the lust surging through him, she would want something more than sex.

  She would want a relationship, intimacy, commitment. Things he wasn't capable of. Not now, when he would only be around for a few more weeks. Maybe not ever. And he liked Sadie too damn much to let her down.

  As he lifted a box of books from the bed of his truck, fragments of last night's dream sifted through his brain.

  "Are you sure it's okay?" Sadie asked as she reached past him to grab his duffel bag.

  "Yeah, why?" '

  "You look upset."

  Her dark, thickly lashed eyes, full of concern, chased away the haunting images. All at once, warmth flooded through him. Not the sharp heat of lust, but something softer, like a cozy blanket settling over him. He felt himself drawn in, over come by the unexpected urge to pour out his guts to her.

  He gave himself a mental shake. Even if he had the words to express it, Sadie didn't want to hear about the darkness swirling around his brain, the memories that made his heart race and his chest squeeze so hard he was afraid he'd pass out. He'd never been one to lay his problems on anyone else, and he wasn't going to start with her.

  "Rough night. I didn't sleep well," he said and headed back to the cabin.

  They finished unloading the truck and Sadie excused herself to go finish up some work. It didn't take him long to unpack.

  He drove to the gym for a workout, and after a quick detour to pick up groceries he headed back to the ranch.

  He took a shower and made himself a sandwich. Even after the grueling workout, he couldn't shake the restless feeling.

  Only one thing would help. He unpacked his laptop and settled in front of it at the kitchen table, knowing that the only way he'd find peace was to take everything swimming in his head and pour it all out onto a blank page.

  He'd never been much of a writer, and arguably still wasn't. But he'd started keeping a journal after his first tour in Iraq almost a decade ago. At first it was a way to keep himself occupied during the endless hours of downtime. But with each passing year and all the missions that followed, it became a way to process everything. The violence. The loss.

  Now, sometimes he thought it was his only link to sanity.

  His name was Martin Ambler. We called him "Marbles" because he talked like he had a mouth full of them.

  Born and raised in Texarkana, the only thing he loved more than God and Country was his fiancée Amber. He died sobbing her name.

  He didn't know how long he'd been tapping at his keyboard when a sharp rap tore him from a near trance state. He blinked hard, struggling to focus as he flexed his cramped fingers.

  "Hello," a female voice called out. "Dylan are you in there?"

  He quickly saved and closed the document. He wasn't quite finished telling Marbles's story, but he hoped it was enough to keep his friend from haunting his dreams for at least a little while. He got up, feeling a little disconnected as he always did after writing.

  It was like he got pulled back into that other reality, his brain needed a little time to calibrate what was real and what wasn't. He walked over to the door feeling tired but calm.

  He clung to that calm, that peace, knowing it wouldn't last for long.

  He opened the door and found June, the Thorntons’ cook and housekeeper, standing on the porch. Aside from the gray streaking her light brown, chin length hair, and a few more creases in her plump face, she looked exactly as he remembered.

  "I was just putting supper on the table and wanted to invite you to come join us," she explained.

  He looked at his watch, surprised to find that it was after six. His stomach grumbled, the sandwich a long forgotten memory. Still, he hesitated. Not only was he not feeling very social, he didn't relish sitting across the table from Jim Thornton. He'd never been the most cheerful guy, and from what Dylan had heard his health issues and curtailed activity hadn't improved his disposition.

  But Sadie will be there, a sly voice reminded him. All the more reason to stay away, he mentally shot back.

  "That's awful nice of you but—"

  "No buts," June reached out and grabbed his hand. "We insist."

  He reluctantly followed her to the big house, listening politely to her steady stream of chatter about all the goings on at the ranch. He stepped into the entryway just as Sadie was coming down the hall.

  She stopped short. "Hey."

  "Hey yourself."

  "Did you need something for the cabin?"

  "Everything's fine. June invited me to come for supper," he said as older woman headed for the kitchen.

  Though she did her best to hide it, there was no missing the dismay that flashed across her face.

  "Is that not okay?" he asked, already backing toward the door.

  She shook her head and gave a little laugh. "It's fine. But you may regret taking her up on her invitation."

  He wasn't sure why, especially when he saw the platter of grilled chicken, tossed green salad, and bowl of steaming mashed potatoes on the table.

  He greeted Jim and Pete and took a seat across from Sadie, and eagerly filled his plate with food.

  He put a forkful of potatoes in his mouth, and immediately understood what Sadie was talking about. Instead of the buttery, creamy deliciousness he'd been expecting, he got a mouthful of mealy, flavorless paste.

  "How is everything?" June asked expectantly.

  Dylan picked up his water and downed half the glass. "Delicious," he managed. He cut a bite of chicken. Funny he'd never realized that chicken could taste so much like cardboard.

  "I'm so glad you're enjoying it," June said. "With Jim's condition, everything needs to be heart healthy. No butter, no salt!"

  No taste.

  From across the table, Sadie made a funny squeak.

  "What's wrong with you?" Jim barked.

  "Nothing," Sadie said, but Dylan could hear the laughter in her voice.

  Dylan shot her a mock glare and shoveled in another bite of potatoes, unable to stifle a grin as her shoulders shook.

  Her father and Pete worked their way methodically through the meal, without any indication they noticed the taste or lack thereof. In between bites, Jim asked Dylan about his time in the Rangers and regaled him with stories about his own time spent in the army in the seventies.

  Jim pushed his empty plate away. "Heard you got pretty busted up a few months back.”

  "Could have been a lot worse," Dylan said, his stomach churning as he remembered how much worse it had been for Cheese that day.

  "Heard you got hit by one of those pipe bombs—"

  Jim's voice faded away as images ripped through his brain. Screams, the sound of flesh sizzling.

  "Dad," Sadie's voice cut through the memory. He blinked, felt her slim hand cover his, which he hadn't even realized had curled into a hard fist against he table. "Maybe we should talk about something else." She gave his hand a quick squeeze before removing it.

  "I didn't mean any offense," Jim blustered.


  "It's okay," Dylan replied, fighting the urge to snatch Sadie's hand back, craving the inexplicable wave of calm that had rushed through him at the light touch.

  He didn't bother correcting Jim about the circumstances around his injury. The details of what happened that day were classified, and even if they weren't, the Army did the best they could to keep any friendly fire casualties out of the news.

  "It's just not a day I like remembering." Understatement of the year. While his body had recovered, the attack had left deeper wounds that would take much, much longer to heal.

  After a few seconds of silence, Jim spoke again. "I expect your father is enjoying having you around to help out."

  "I like to think so," Dylan said. He forced his shoulders to relax, his fingers to lie flat against the table.

  "Nice little business Frank has built up. He's lucky to have sons to leave it to."

  Dylan shrugged. "I don't think he's given it much thought."

  "Seems a shame not to pass on his legacy."

  "I don't know that it's much of a legacy, nothing like this place."

  "Don't think it counts if there's no one to pass it on to."

  Dylan frowned. "What about Sadie?"

  "Sadie?" Jim gave him a look like he was crazy. "She can't take over the place."

  Dylan didn't miss the way Sadie's shoulders stiffened or the way the laughter left her eyes.

  "Ranching is no business for a woman," Jim continued.

  "That seems like kind of an old fashioned take on things," Dylan said, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. He'd had no idea this was such a sore spot.

  "Not old fashioned. Realistic. Most women can barely tolerate this life. Sadie's mom is a perfect example."

  It was on the tip of Dylan's tongue to point out that maybe it was Jim's gruff demeanor that Angela Thornton couldn't tolerate. Then he remembered how tough the split, which had happened over the summer between their junior and senior year, had been on Sadie. She'd come back to school thinner than ever and had hardly cracked a smile the first half of the year.

  He could have kissed June when she stood and said brightly, "I'll just get dessert!"