Once You're Mine

by Barbara Freethy

  She knew that wouldn't be fun, but she had a short reprieve, and she would take it.

  She felt pretty tired as she got into Dylan's car. It was after eleven, and she'd been going full speed since ten in the morning.

  Dylan didn't have much to say on the way to her place. She couldn't help but note the number of times he checked his mirrors, but he didn't seem to see anything problematic. When they got to her building, she told Dylan he could park in the underground garage since her car was at her mom's house.

  Once they got up to her apartment, Dylan made what was becoming his usual sweep of the place before giving her a nod. "All clear."

  "Great." She set her clutch on the table and kicked off her high heels in relief. Then she walked into the kitchen, grabbed two bottles of water and brought one back to Dylan, who had already gotten rid of his coat and taken a seat on the couch.

  She sat down next to him and took a sip of her water. "You're not going to be very comfortable on this couch."

  "It's pretty soft," he said, patting the cushion. "I can sleep anywhere." He loosened his tie and pulled it off. "That's better."

  She smiled. "You're not really a tie-wearing kind of guy, are you?"

  "No, I am not. I much prefer casual clothes, but I was happy Scott only made us wear a suit and not a tuxedo."

  "And I was happy not to have to wear a bridesmaid's dress. I've already been in three weddings, so my collection of unwearable dresses is beginning to grow."

  "It's worse for the women," he agreed. "At least with a tux, I can just return it."

  "Exactly. Have you been in any other weddings?"

  "Two other ones—both fellow firefighters. I'm sure I'll be in my brother Ian's wedding, whenever that is."

  "Funny that Ian would get married before you and Hunter. He was always so quiet and so smart, and nowhere near as into girls as the two of you."

  "Ian is still an intellectual, but he fell for a gregarious, warm-hearted, elementary school teacher, who has put the biggest smile on his face that I've ever seen. She's from Ireland and believes in leprechauns and rainbows and all kinds of crazy legends, which is ironic since Ian stopped believing in Santa Claus before he went to Kindergarten."

  "Ireland, huh? Is that where they met?"

  "No, Grace is tied to the trip Ian made there with Emma and Burke. I'll have to tell you about it sometime. Emma found a little girl who needed a mother, and Ian met a professor—one of his idols—who asked Ian to take something to his estranged daughter Grace. He did, and, well, a lot of dangerous stuff went down, but in the end it all worked out."

  "If I wasn't so tired, I'd ask for the longer version of that story."

  "You should go to bed."

  "I will in a minute." She sipped her water. "So Scott is married. Your best friend is no longer single. Is that going to cramp your style? You've lost your wingman."

  "Scott hasn't been my wingman in a while. I'm happy for him."

  "Me, too. I kind of wished I could freeze time today, make the moment last forever."

  "There will be more good moments to come."

  "That sounds optimistic from someone who doesn't seem interested in the idea of marriage."

  His expression turned wary. "Did I say that?"

  "You said you hadn't been involved with anyone since Jenny and that ended years ago." She tilted her head. "What happened with her, Dylan?"

  "I told you I don't want to talk about it."

  "Scott once told me that Jenny did a real number on you. What did he mean?"

  "It's not important."

  "You're always so straightforward and direct—why so secretive about this?" She knew she was pressing, but she really wanted to know.

  "Do you ever stop asking questions, Tori? You should have been a prosecutor. I can see people confessing just to get you to shut up."

  "And you're stalling. Is it that big of a deal? Did she cheat on you?"

  "No." He hesitated for a long minute, then said, "Jenny got really clingy over the years we were together. Her father had left her mother when she was a teenager, and she was really sensitive to me doing anything that didn't involve her, even if it was just basketball with the guys. When I became a firefighter, she hated the shifts, the fact that I'd be gone for nights at a time, and she was on her own."

  He took a swig of his water, then continued. "Jenny became less and less independent the longer we were together. I was in charge of everything, and she looked at me with this sort of desperate reverence. It was like she built me up in her mind when I wasn't around. She kept telling me I was her hero, her knight in shining armor, that she couldn't live without me. She wouldn't do anything when I was at work except text me all day long. Then she started listening to the news and she even got a neighbor to lend her a radio that picked up our fire calls. She showed up at a couple of scenes, crying when I was inside the building, getting hysterical for no reason."

  She couldn't imagine that would have gone over well.

  "I told her she needed to get some help, talk to someone," he continued. "But she said she just needed me to love her. I realized that our relationship wasn't healthy, but when I tried to break up with her…" His voice trailed away. "I don't want to say too much about her private problems, but she had some mental health issues, and she became very depressed. She told me she couldn't live without me."

  She was shocked and horrified by the story. She'd thought Jenny Meyer, one of the most popular girls to ever go to their high school, had had everything going for her. "I'm sorry, Dylan. I can't even believe it. She seemed so confident from what I knew of her."

  "She had a lot of personal demons. It took me a long time to cut the ties."

  "I can see why. You didn't want to be responsible for her doing something bad to herself. She didn't, did she?" she asked, suddenly worried about the ending of this story.

  "No. I finally talked her into getting some help, and eventually we were able to break up, and she found a way to move forward. She actually got married last year. Hopefully, she's happy now, and she found the right person for her."

  "Hopefully. I apologize. I didn't realize it was such a bad story when I asked. I thought it was going to be your typical we didn't get along kind of deal."

  "I wish it had been that," he said heavily. "I don't know when Jenny stopped seeing me as just a guy and started seeing me as some kind of hero that she couldn't live without, but there was no way I was going to be able to live up to her expectations."

  "It's hard to be at the top of a pedestal," she agreed.

  "Have you been there?" he asked.

  She smiled at that. "No, definitely not. No one can't live without me. Most people do just fine."

  He grinned back at her. "I'm sure you’ve broken some hearts."

  "I don't think so, but thanks for saying that."

  As silence fell between them, the air seemed to get hotter, thicker, and she started to think about the previous night when she'd cut through all the tension by kissing Dylan.

  She really, really wanted to do it again, but she felt like the next time they kissed it had to be his idea.

  So why wasn't he getting the idea?

  "What?" he asked.

  "Nothing. I'm tired. I'm going to go to bed. You really could go home, Dylan."

  "I don't want to leave you alone."

  "I'm behind locked doors. And you're not responsible for me." She was talking about more than just the possible threat lurking outside, and he knew it.

  "I do want to keep you safe."

  "Because you're loyal to Scott. I get it. But I'm not looking to you to save me."

  "I know that, and my loyalty to your brother is not the only reason I'm here. I like you, Tori."

  Her heart skipped a beat. "Since when?"

  "Since always."

  "No way. You did not like me when I was thirteen."

  "Fine, since you came back. But I didn't dislike you before; I just didn't really know you."

  "You didn't want
to know me," she reminded him.

  "You were a kid."

  "I'm very aware of that."

  "But I like you now," he said again. "And…"

  She caught her breath at the sudden spark in his eyes. "And…"

  "I'd like to kiss you."

  "What's stopping you?"

  "You'd want it to mean something," he said.

  As much as she wanted to deny that, he was probably right. She'd kissed guys before without it meaning a damn thing, but this was Dylan. He'd always been in his own special category, and she didn't see that changing any time soon.

  His gaze bored into hers, indecision in his eyes.

  "Oh, what the hell!" He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her in for a kiss.

  This time she was the one whose lips parted in surprise, who needed a second to grasp what was happening. But soon she was opening her mouth to his, savoring his taste, loving the rush of heat between them. He angled his head one way and then another, never giving her a chance to take a full breath.

  Her senses were on fire, her breasts tingling, her body melting under the onslaught of desire.

  When he pulled away, she stared at him in bemusement, her chest heaving with emotion, with want, as too many emotions ran through her body.

  His light-blue eyes were as dark and as shadowy as they'd ever been. He ran a hand through his hair. "That was…"

  "Yes," she said softly, meeting his gaze. "It was."

  "I think you're right, Tori."

  "About what?"

  "I should go."

  Now she wanted to ask him to stay, but he was already on his feet.

  Maybe that was a good thing. She was still reeling, and they'd only kissed a little. He could knock her completely off balance, and despite her earlier bravado, she wasn't sure she was ready for that.

  "Are you going to be okay?" he asked, with conflict in his gaze. "I want you to be safe."

  "I'm safe and I'm better than okay," she said, standing up. "You were right, too, Dylan."

  "About what?"

  "I'm going to want it to mean something."

  He gave a tight nod. "I can't give you what you want, Tori."

  "I'm sure you can, but the real question is if you'd ever want to." She let that hang for a moment, and then said, "Good-night, Dylan."

  He grabbed his coat as he headed for the door. He paused, his gaze firm as he looked back at her. "All this aside, Tori, I want you to call me if you have any problems. Actually, call 911 first, then call me. Don't hesitate. Don't think it's awkward. Even if it's a small sound, a bad feeling, let me know."

  His words were scaring her a little, but she wasn't going to let him see that. "I will."

  "And we'll talk tomorrow. I'm not abandoning you in the middle of this situation. I'm just giving us both a little space tonight."

  "I get it. But this is my problem, not yours."

  "I don't care. Until I know you're safe, we're not done."

  Ten

  Tori didn't get much sleep Saturday night. When she got up grumpy and still tired just after eight in the morning, she took a shower, dressed and then headed straight for the coffeemaker. While her coffee was brewing, her phone began to buzz.

  Dylan's name flashed across the screen, and she felt annoyed at how happy that made her.

  He'd been the subject of her dreams all night long, but along with the fantasies, there had been anger and frustration that he could make her so crazy. The only saving grace was that she'd obviously shaken him up, too. Dylan didn't run away from anything, but he'd bailed on her last night, and she knew it was because he was feeling the same mixed-up emotions running through her head. How they were ever going to get out of that place of turmoil, she had no idea.

  They could be friends. But could they ever be more? Should they ever be more?

  When she didn't answer, she saw a voicemail pop up. She was about to listen to it when her phone started ringing again. Dylan would not be ignored.

  Not wanting to scare him, she said, "Hello?"

  "Why didn't you answer the first time? What's going on? Are you all right?"

  "That's a lot of questions for first thing in the morning."

  "You're rubbing off on me."

  "I'm fine. I'm making coffee."

  "Excellent. I hope there's enough for two."

  "You're coming over?"

  "I'm already here. Buzz me in. I brought breakfast."

  She couldn't quite believe how cheerful and breezy he sounded, as if nothing tense or unsettling had gone down between them the night before. Well, she could play that game, too.

  She buzzed him in, then waited for his knock before looking through her peephole and then unlocking the door and letting him in.

  Dylan had a brown paper bag in his arms, and whatever he'd brought smelled delicious.

  "Good morning," he said, looking more attractive than ever in jeans and a dark-blue T-shirt, his hair still damp from a recent shower, his skin glowing and emanating a deliciously sexy scent that was almost as good as the bacon that had to be in the bag he was holding.

  She dug her hands into the pockets of her jeans, because she couldn't quite trust herself not to grab him and experience his kiss again in full living color, which would be much better than her dreams.

  Clearing her throat," she said, "What did you bring?"

  "Food from Viola's, my favorite breakfast place in the city," he said, walking over to her kitchen table. He pulled out cartons of food and began to open them. "I got both a veggie omelet and one with bacon, ham and mushrooms. I'm pretty sure you're not a vegetarian, unless something has changed."

  "No, I still love meat."

  "There are also pancakes, French toast, and a side of turkey bacon, just in case you want to be a little healthier."

  "Wow. How many people are joining us?"

  "I wasn't sure what you liked," he defended. "And I was hungry when I was ordering."

  "How do you know I haven't eaten yet?"

  "Have you?" he countered with a smile.

  "No, and I don't have much in my refrigerator."

  "Then this works, right?"

  She let out a breath. "Yes, but Dylan—"

  "After we eat," he said. "Then we can talk about whatever you want."

  She'd take that reprieve. "All right. Do you want coffee? I also have orange juice."

  "I'll stick with the juice this morning. I drink so much coffee at work, I like to take a break on my days off."

  "It seems like you've had quite a few days off."

  He nodded, as he sat down at the table. "I took a shift off for the wedding. I'm back at work tomorrow morning."

  She went into the kitchen to pour juice and grab plates and silverware and then took everything to the table. She sat down across from him and surveyed the buffet he'd brought with a happy feeling running through her. "I love breakfast food. I don't know where to start."

  "Which omelet do you want?"

  "I don't know if I can choose."

  He laughed. "I'm surprised. You're rarely indecisive. Why don't we split them?"

  "Great idea," she said, cutting one of the omelets in two and taking half onto her plate. She also took the top pancake, and doused it with the accompanying syrup.

  "So what's on tap for you today?" Dylan asked as they started eating.

  "Well, I need to get my car from my mom's house at some point. I know she's going to have questions for me; I just have to figure out how much to tell her."

  "Why not tell her everything?"

  "Because it will worry her."

  "It might worry her more if she thinks you're holding back. And I suspect you got some of your interrogation skills from her."

  Her mother was very good at getting confessions. "You're right about that. She could always see through a lie." She took another bite of her omelet, then said, "What about you? What are your plans?"

  "Well, I'd like to make sure you're not getting into any trouble."

  "Besides that,"
she said, rolling her eyes.

  "I was going to finish up a few things on the 1971 Barracuda I'm restoring. It's at my parents' house. They're nice enough to let me use their garage since they have more street parking than I do."

  "A Barracuda. That sounds sexy and fast."

  He laughed. "It definitely is. It's also a convertible. And it's just about ready for a spin down the coast before I put it up for sale."

  "Do you ever want to keep the cars you restore?"

  "All the time. But I don't have anywhere to store them, and if I'm really honest, I enjoy the restoration more than just being the owner."

  "I get that. I remember when you and Scott bought that old Chevy that you had to push into our driveway because it broke down two blocks away. Then it leaked oil all over everything. My mom had been tiptoeing around Scott, trying not to upset him because he was in so much pain after my dad died, but that day she just lost it with Scott. I'm sure the neighbors heard her yelling from a mile away." She smiled at the memory. "It was actually kind of a good thing. It was a release, like we were back to normal."

  "Then I guess you should thank me."

  "I wouldn't go that far," she returned. "So where is this Viola's? I have to go there. This food is delicious."

  "It's a few blocks from me in the Marina."

  "Is there an actual Viola?" she asked.

  "There is. You'd probably think she's an older grandma type, but she's actually Asian, in her twenties, and a classically trained chef, who turned an old dive bar into the best breakfast place in the city."

  "You know a lot about her."

  "She's also friends with my cousin Burke's wife Maddie, who recently opened her own restaurant. Between the two of them, I eat very well."

  "I bet. Do you cook at all for yourself?"

  "Not too much. I have one dish I excel at—chili."

  "Firehouse chili," she said with a smile. "How shocking."

  "Hey, it is the best in the city. I have second shifts begging me to leave it behind for them."

  "What's your secret?"

  "I can't tell you that."

  She smiled, liking how easy it was to talk to Dylan again. Maybe they were both putting up a front, but she wasn't going to tear it down. It was fun to get to know him better as the man he was now and not the boy she remembered.