by Jami Alden
Sadie settled on a vodka tonic while Dylan helped himself to a beer from the refrigerator.
"Sorry to hear you had a rough day." Vivian said as she plunked ice in a tumbler. "I hope it's not because your father has taken a turn for the worse."
"Thankfully, no," Sadie said as she reached out to accept the drink, her stomach clenching as the reality of Molly's discovery once again intruded. "His health is improving by the day. But unfortunately he let some things slip through the cracks business wise, and I've got a bit of a mess to clean up."
A big hand settled on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She looked up to meet Dylan's warm, sympathetic gaze, and felt her anxiety ebb.
We're going to get through this.
"Well, cheers," Vivian said and lifted her glass of wine to clink it first against Sadie's glass, then Dylan's beer bottle. "To taking some time to relax even when times get tough."
"I just can't get over it," she said after she took a sip of her wine, "how beautiful you are. Can you believe it, Dylan?"
Now it was Sadie's turn to blush.
"I'd say Sadie would definitely get the most improved award at the next high school reunion," Dylan said with a grin.
"And you were always chasing after all those silly cheerleaders, when you had an actual supermodel sitting right here under your nose."
"Doing catalog work in Denver hardly qualifies me as a supermodel," Sadie protested, thankful when Dylan's dad, Frank, chose that moment to enter through the patio door.
"Charcoal is ready," he said, then turned to Dylan to give him a quick, back slapping hug. He greeted Sadie with a firm handshake and asked after her father.
"He's improving every day, but it will be a while before he can get back to his regular routine."
"Good thing Dylan's there to help out then," he said, darting a look at his son she couldn't quite decipher.
But the way Dylan's shoulders stiffened told her there was something simmering between those two.
"He's been invaluable."
"What's on the menu?" Dylan asked his mother.
"Too darn hot to turn on the oven, so I decided to grill some steaks." She picked up a covered dish from the counter, and handed it to Frank. "Why don't you go help your father while Sadie helps me finish up in here," she said and waved the two men toward the patio door.
"What do you need me to do?" she said as Dylan followed his father out. "I have to confess, my kitchen skills don't go much further than microwaving a frozen dinner."
"I'm sure someone as bright as you can find your way around dressing a salad," Vivian said with a little laugh, and handed Sadie a bottle of Italian dressing.
"So seems like you and Dylan certainly have gotten close," she said after a few moments.
"We've always been friends," Sadie replied, concentrating on not sending a shower of salad greens onto the floor.
Vivian made a non-committal sound. "I've never known Dylan to have many women friends," she said, as she reached for a loaf of crusty bread and started to slice it. "Not to say he's ever lacked for female company," she said with a rueful shake of her head. "Of all of my boys, he was the worst. Girls calling him at all hours, tapping on his window at night trying to convince him to sneak out."
"I doubt he needed too much convincing," Sadie said as her fingers clenched around the wooden salad spoons, wondering where Vivian was going with this. Did she think Sadie needed to be reminded of Dylan's deserved reputation as a player? Did she think Sadie needed a warning?
"No, he sure didn't." Vivian chuckled. "Lord knows he sowed his wild oats. Hopefully it's finally out of his system. I know his career doesn't lend itself well to marriage, but I'd love nothing more than to see him settle down with a woman who can make him as happy out of bed as in it."
Sadie dropped her gaze to the floor, unable to meet Vivian’s wide, expectant smile as she tried to stifle all of the silly, school girl dreams Dylan's mother's words conjured. Dreams she'd forced into lockdown from the moment Dylan's lips first touched hers. Because she knew if she didn't keep a lid on them, it would be too easy to get carried away, to forget that what she and Dylan had was just a temporary bit of "fun", and to let herself hope otherwise would only lead to heartbreak.
###
"Better flip those," Dylan said lightly.
His dad shot him a glare over his shoulder as he stood at the grill, feet braced and his shoulders squared as though he was guarding the grilling steaks from extreme bodily harm. "If I followed your advice the damn things would be mooing up from the plate."
"The way you cook it, I might as well rip the sole off of my boot and eat that."
It was an old family joke, ribbing their dad in his attempts to take poor, unsuspecting pieces of protein and turn them into charcoal. It felt good after the tension that had fueled their conversation the last time they'd talked.
"Please, if not for my sake, for Sadie's pull one of those off before you leach every bit of pink from it."
His dad grumbled under his breath but lifted two of the steaks onto a plate Dylan retrieved from the picnic table.
"So you know how she likes her steak," Frank said idly. "What else have you learned about Sadie since you've been living out at the ranch?"
A whole lot of things he wasn't about to share with anyone, especially not his dad. "She's about the hardest worker I've ever seen," Dylan said and drained the last of his beer.
"Smart, beautiful, and hard working? Can't go wrong with that."
"And I'm sure someday she'll make some man extremely happy," Dylan deadpanned.
His dad stared at him for a moment, then shrugged and turned back to the grill. "You don't have to kiss and tell. I'm sure your mom will fill me in later."
Dylan cast a nervous glance toward the kitchen, as he was afraid his father was right, that at this very moment his mom was grilling Sadie for information as aggressively as his dad was grilling those steaks.
Not for the first time he questioned his decision to bring Sadie with him tonight. Not that he didn't want her here—in fact, he was surprising himself lately with how much he craved her company. And not that it would be a disaster if his parents knew they were involved.
But ever since Deck and Jane had their baby and Damon and Ellie made up, got engaged and were talking about giving Ellie's son, Nicholas, a sibling, his mom had turned her sights firmly on Dylan when it came to settling down and starting a family.
He'd rather take on a legion of Taliban troops solo than have to explain to his mother that there was nothing close to settling down on his horizon, and that he and Sadie were nothing more than fuck buddies.
At that moment, his mom and Sadie stepped out onto the patio. Even though he hadn't said it aloud, he felt a pang of guilt for putting what he had with Sadie in that category. It seemed too crass, too disrespectful a way to think about someone he genuinely liked and admired.
And lusted after, he couldn't help thinking as he watched her set the big wooden bowl of salad on the table, his gaze snagging on the slim, prefect curve of her ass showcased by jeans that fit her like a glove.
"This all looks delicious," Sadie said as they settled around the table.
"You'll want to thank me for rescuing a steak for you. Dad was bound and determined to turn it into a hockey puck."
"Whatever he did, it's cooked perfectly," she said as she sliced into the meat.
"I'm so glad to see your modeling days didn't turn you into one of those girls who doesn't eat," his mom said as she scooped a pile of salad onto Sadie's plate. She then proceeded to exclaim over the amount of chocolate chip cookies Sadie used to be able to put away.
"Mom, I know I'm just a dumb male animal, but from my experience women don't normally like to be praised for their ability to hammer down plates of cookies."
"It would be one thing if she'd had an ounce of fat on her," his mother continued, oblivious. "But you would eat and eat, like a bottomless pit, and still thin as a rail. It's a good sign, you know," s
he said and took a sip of her wine. "A woman who enjoys her food is more likely to enjoy other things."
She waggled her eyebrows as Sadie made a choking sound. Dylan made a mental note to make sure she didn't get her hands on any more wine.
"Now that I'm not eighteen, I have to take it a little easier," Sadie said, rolling her lips together as she tried to stifle a laugh. "But yes, I do still enjoy my food." She peeked at Dylan under her lashes, the heat in her eyes telling him, to his mom's point, she was thinking of all the other physical pleasures she enjoyed.
The conversation turned to their life out on the ranch, and Sadie gave Vivian and Frank an overview of some of the struggles they were facing, minus the details of the embezzlement. "I don't know what we'd do without Dylan," she said with a tired smile. "It's going to be a rough adjustment when he leaves." For so many different reasons.
"Maybe it's time for a career change," Vivian said casually, but there was no missing the edge of strain in her voice.
Dylan shot her a pointed look.
"Your mom's right," Frank said, "you've put in your time. Maybe the injury was a sign it's time to quit."
###
Tension settled over around the table like a cloud. Sadie turned her attention to her steak as though cutting required her full concentration.
"Dad," Dylan said, a warning note in his voice.
Frank didn't take the hint. "I'm serious. You made it out alive this time, but next time you might not be so lucky."
Dylan's fork cracked against the wooden table. "Being a"—he shot her a look, seemed to catch himself—"being a Ranger is all I ever wanted to do. Why would you want me to quit, especially when I've worked so hard to recover?"
"Your mother and I, we worry," Frank said, his voice suspiciously thick. "What you do..."
He flicked a glance at Sadie. She had the distinct feeling she was missing something.
"In your line of work, we're just afraid for your future."
"My career is my future," Dylan said tightly. "Nothing is more important to me than getting back to it."
Vivian gave Frank a pointed look. "This is probably not the best time to discuss this."
She steered the conversation to more neutral topics, asking after Sadie's mother, and whether Sadie had read a recent bestseller, but it did little to cut the tension hanging over the table when Dylan returned with a fresh beer.
Next to him, Sadie struggled to focus on providing appropriate answers to Vivian’s questions, as Dylan's words echoed through her brain on an endless loop.
Nothing is more important to me than getting back to it.
"Sorry for that," Dylan said later as they were driving back to the ranch. "I'm sure watching me and my dad get into it wasn't nearly as relaxing as I'd intended."
"I didn't realize there was so much tension between you."
He shrugged, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "He just doesn't understand why I don't want to do things like he, Deck, and Damon did. Do a few tours, get discharged, and settle into ordinary, run of the mill civilian life."
"You don't think you'd ever want that?" She dug her fingers into her thigh to distract herself from the sharp ache in her chest.
"Not only do I not want it, I'm not sure I'm capable of it," he said with a humorless chuckle. "When you've had the kind of career I have, it's hard to adjust to normal."
"Why am I getting the sense that your career isn't that of a typical soldier?"
He shot her a half smile. "Because it's not. And that's about all I can tell you."
Sadie was silent for a minute as that soaked in. Her knowledge of military operations was limited to what she'd seen in movies and on TV, but she knew there were branches of the military that carried out covert operations no one ever heard about.
Was Dylan really part of one of these shadow groups of highly specialized soldiers?
"If for some reason I'm not cleared..." his voice trailed off.
"I didn't realize there was any question," she replied.
"There isn't," he said, almost as though he was trying to convince himself. "I'm as strong as I ever was. There's no reason I can't go back."
But there was a crack in his armor, a note of uncertainty she'd never heard before. If he didn't go back, maybe... she thought with a burst of hope. Then immediately felt guilty for wishing for the end of his military career, knowing how important it was to him. "But what if the doctors decide you're not capable of doing... whatever it is you do?" she asked, then immediately regretted it when she saw the way his fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
"I can't even entertain that possibility," he said through clenched teeth. "There's no other option for me."
Sadie shrugged. "It may seem like it, but if—big if—things don't go the way you're planning, you'll have a lot more options than you think. You're only twenty-eight. Plenty of time to figure out a new path." She knew it was foolish going down this path. It wasn't like she was going to convince him to change his mind and settle into civilian life.
With her.
His only reply was a non-committal grunt.
"Come on, there must be something else you'd be interested in," she probed, thinking of the sound of his fingers on the keyboard late at night.
He shook his head. "All I ever wanted to be was a soldier."
"You're always working on your computer," she said as they pulled into the ranch driveway.
He gave her a sidelong look. "I'm obsessed with Minecraft."
A lie, she knew. She'd seen the text filling the screen several times before he'd realized she was in the room and quickly closed the laptop.
She told herself it was stupid that his unwillingness to share should cause such a sharp stab of hurt.
Nothing is more important to me than getting back to it.
He pulled up in front of his cabin and climbed out. Sadie got out of her side before he could come around to open her door.
The late evening sun turned the distant mountains orange and the cotton woods lining the drive cast long shadows across the gravel.
He took her hand and started toward his porch.
Every nerve in her body was screaming at her to follow him inside, let him strip her naked, lay her on his bed. Taker her with his hands, lips, body, until she couldn't think of anything but him and the way he made her feel.
But tonight, something held her back, and she tugged her hand gently from his. "You know, after today I don't think I'll be very good company. I'm going to try to get some work done and get to bed early."
Dylan looked surprised and a little confused for a second, but didn't argue. Which only made the pinch in her chest hurt that much more. "Sure, I understand. See you in the morning then."
Sadie forced herself to turn around and move her feet toward the big house. She blinked away the sting of tears, resisting the urge to turn back, tell him she'd changed her mind.
But she had to create some distance. The hurt she felt at something he said—something that didn't even directly refer to her, or them—and the hurt that she felt now, when he let her go without a word of protest, made no effort to draw her out of the funk that had settled back over her shoulders, set off alarm bells.
She was getting in too deep, crossing the line of just having fun and in danger of falling hard.
Oh please, she thought as she let herself into the house. You aren't falling, you've fallen. You've been half in love with Dylan your entire life, and the "fun" you've been having has pushed you the rest of the way.
A sinking, panicky feeling washed over her as she forced herself to acknowledge the truth. She was in love with Dylan.
But he wasn't in love with her.
And when he left, it was going to break her heart.
But she could still handle this, she told herself as she walked down the hall to her office, struggling to swallow down the lump in her throat. So what if she had stronger feelings for him than he had for her? So what if in her ideal world, they would ha
ve an actual relationship? That would have been the case whether she slept with him or not, so she might as well enjoy the sex while she could.
But not tonight. Tonight she needed to take a time out, create a little distance, and remind herself that Dylan had made no promises to share his secrets, no promises to pick her up when she was feeling low.
All he'd promised was to help her get the ranch back on track, and give her the best sex she'd ever had before he went back to the life that mattered more than anything.
And that would be enough.
Chapter 13
Thanks to the happy hour rush and dinner service, it wasn't till after Adele's closed for the night that Molly finally got a chance to talk to Brady about the "important" matter he needed to discuss.
Okay, to be fair, she hadn't exactly been hounding him, especially when she realized that he had probably heard every word of the conversation she and Sadie had been having.
I want someone to pin me down and have his way with me.
At least there was no way for him to know that as she was saying the words, it was his face in her head, his silvery blue eyes glittering down at her. His tattooed arms rippling with muscle braced on the bed as he pinned her wrists with his big, rough hands.
"So what did you need to talk to me about?" The place was empty but for the two of them. Molly busied herself restocking the bar while Brady took a seat on one of the bar stools. Familiar with his nightly ritual, she poured two fingers of bourbon into a highball glass and slid it in front of him.
"I'm leaving."
Her hand froze in the process of putting the bottle back on the shelf. "Leaving, like permanently?"
He let out a rough sigh and drained half the bourbon in one swallow. "I hope not. But I might be gone awhile."
Her stomach flipped over. "You can't leave. We're still in the high season. You can't just leave us high and dry."
He shook his head. "I don't have to leave till early next week. Between now and then I'll train you, Ellie, and Adele on how to make the most popular dishes, and of course I'll leave annotated copies of all my recipes."