Dylan ruminated on the firm and his partners all the way to Freehope, not willing to toss Grant’s idea without giving it some thought. While he wasn’t behind the idea one hundred percent, he would do some more research and see what he could come up with for a solution.
He pulled up to Lexi’s little house and parked next to her car. It was a little electric thing, her Bad Girl of Sweets caricature emblazoned on the side.
Just seeing it made his heart feel lighter.
Baby or no baby, Alexa Walker was who he wanted. She was who he had been waiting for. He felt it in his gut, deep down where everything came alive when they met. He’d never given much credence to love. His own parents had married for convenience and that’s what he understood. Power, wealth, and the strength that comes with the right name, were all concepts he grew up on.
Even his past relationships had been based on the same formula. One good name plus another equals more power, and so on and so on.
Finding the one was nothing more than a myth, as far as he’d been concerned.
One trip to his favorite coffee shop had dissuaded him of that foolish notion. Everything about her fascinated him, made him want to ask a million questions and tuck away every answer in a safe place.
He hurried up the walkway only to have the front door open before he could do the honors.
“Thanks, Alex!”
There was a man coming out the door. A cop, who looked to be in his early to mid-thirties, held a steaming travel mug up to his lips. When he saw Dylan, he stopped midway, and with his eyes still glued to Dylan’s, yelled back into the house. “There’s a dude here.” The man eyed him up and down. “Might be a salesman.”
Dylan held his gaze. “Boyfriend,” he corrected.
The man’s ruddy cheeks darkened, as did his scowl. “Doubt it.”
Dylan just shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, taking in the cop’s position. He was guarding the door, blocking the entrance until Lexi came out.
She appeared a moment later, her dark hair piled atop her head, a streak of something white across her nose. Her smile absolutely lit up when she saw him and without meaning to, he puffed his chest out with pride, eyeing the other man.
“Mike, this is Dylan. Dylan, my old friend Mike.”
Being the bigger man, Dylan held a hand out. Unless he wanted to look like a douche in front of Lex, he was going to have to concede, which he did.
When the cop went to open his mouth, Lexi beat him to it. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.” She gave his shoulder a little push, shooing him off the steps. “Thanks for stopping by. Love you. Come back anytime, except within the next two hours, unless I call and say I’m dying. Which I won’t. Bye-bye.”
“Alex,” Mike said sternly.
“Don’t be a cockblocker,” she accused, waving her hand.
Dylan looked away, holding in a laugh.
“Don’t say cockblock.” Mike cringed.
“Beaver dammed?” she shot back, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Boxed out? Clam jammed?”
Mike shrank back and took a step away, his face a mask of revulsion. “Stop!”
Lexi reached out, grabbing Dylan and pulling him in, then waving to Mike. “Seriously. Love you, but bye, now.”
Mike shivered and then sent a wave. “Yeah. Call me if you need me.”
“Always.”
She shut the door and clicked the lock over.
“If I don’t lock it, he might come back.”
Dylan backed her up against the wall of the entryway, his hands on her hips as he brought his mouth down to hers.
“I think you scared him away for the moment.”
“He’s easy,” she told him, twining her arms around his neck. “Most people are.”
“You make a habit of trying to scare people off,” he asked, sliding his lips across hers before settling them in for a welcomed kiss.
As she always did, Lexi pulled him close, holding him like she needed him to somehow, always be closer. The only kind of closer he could get, involved a lot less clothing on both of their parts. Dylan slid his arms around her back and lifted her against his chest and off her feet.
She squeaked with laughter, her lips stretching tight against his.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hey,” she greeted back, her bright eyes locked on his. “Glad you could make it.” She pulled back, her gaze shifting. “You have confectioner’s sugar on your cheek.”
“Now, where do you think that came from?” He leaned in and, with the tip of his tongue, flicked the sweet spot off her nose.
“I’ve been busy,” she told him, pushing away until he set her back on her feet. “Planning for your class, plus The Bean tomorrow and my lesson plans for my classes at the college.”
“What do you like most?” he asked, following the sway of her behind as she led him into the kitchen.
He almost cringed at the sight of the hideous room, like he always did. The oranges and avocado green clashing with each other. At least the walls were painted a neutral color, otherwise it would have been so much worse.
“Well, being in the kitchen is my favorite by far,” she said, taking her usual spot behind the counter at the island. He took the stool on the other side, watching her work her magic.
Her skill and knowledge in the kitchen just blew him away. He’d never really considered the skill, time, or attention to detail it took to create masterpieces the way that Lexi did. She worked every piece, every confection, as if they all had to be perfect. She lined them all up; he’d seen her do it, comparing them to one another and inspecting them for flaws.
Last week she’d pulled a handful of little pinwheel things because the sugar had browned too much on one side.
As if that was a real flaw. He’d nearly cried when she went to toss them in the garbage.
“But I like teaching,” she admitted, still answering his question. “Actually, I made all the desserts for Owen and Andy’s wedding and that was a lot of fun. I don’t usually do that kind of event. She didn’t have a big cake, so that was a plus because that kind of cake building isn’t my specialty, not that I couldn’t have pulled it off. She wanted cupcakes and truffles, those kinds of thing. And, I had plenty of time to do it, which was good, because I got totally tanked the night before the wedding and could barely get everything to the venue.”
Dylan listened intently, smiling at the image she was creating.
“Didn’t help that Owen went missing and we spent half the day trying to track him down—”
“Owen went missing?” Dylan asked. “On his wedding day?”
Dylan wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen someone so in love as Owen was with Andy. The man practically worshipped the ground the woman walked on, treated her like a queen. Dylan had a hard time picturing him leaving her at the altar.
“Oh, yeah. Was a whole thing. Wedding got postponed while we all went looking for him. Everyone thought the worst,” she admitted with a half shrug. “Even me. He left her once; there was no telling if he’d do it again.”
Dylan held up a hand. “Whoa. Owen left Andy?”
“Years ago,” Lexi told him as she started turning dough in a bowl with her hands. “Misunderstanding. Cost them almost thirteen years together, but he came to his senses. I’ll say this for Owen, he’s a good groveler and we Walker women, we love a good grovel. Especially from a big, strong man.” She sent him another laughing look. “Just for future reference, in case you were wondering.”
“Groveling. Got it.”
“It all worked out in the end for them, obviously. Helps that Owen’s madly in love with my sister.”
“I’m sure that makes all the difference. Why’d he leave in the first place?”
Lexi stilled, her hands coming to a complete stop as her body froze. Dylan got the feeling that he’d stepped in a hole somewhere and had lost his footing, asking something he shouldn’t have.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” he said, backpedal
ing.
When she looked up at him, there was a world of misery in her blue eyes.
Something he’d learned about Alexa was that she came off as tough and Teflon, like nothing stuck to her. But she held a lot of things close, not letting people see her pain.
Whatever happened to Andy, whatever happened between her sister and Owen still haunted Lexi. He could see that as plain as day.
“If I tell you something, you have to swear to just hear it and let it go. You can’t try to talk me out of how I feel about it; you can’t try to fix it. And then, we can’t ever talk about it again.”
He shook his head. “That’s a shit deal and you know it.” As if he wouldn’t try to fix something that had her hurting if he could. Not going to happen.
“It is,” she admitted. “It’s just the only—AAHH!”
Lexi screamed and clutched her chest with sticky, dough-covered hands when there was a sudden, loud knock on the kitchen window behind her.
Dylan startled as well, but not nearly as much as Lexi did.
Jenna was smiling at them through the glass. “Door’s locked. Let me in!”
“Back’s open,” Lexi said, her voice quivering as she looked back at him. “Change the subject. Now.”
So, whatever it was that tore Owen and Andy apart years ago was not something to be discussed in front of Jenna. Whether the girl knew or not, Dylan got Lexi’s message loud and clear. He stood from the island and opened the back door just as Jenna reached it, popping into the kitchen happily.
“Hey,” she greeted them brightly. “Figured I’d see if you needed a hand.”
“No. Dylan’s got his baking lesson today, and I thought I’d make him help me do everything for tomorrow. You’re off the hook,” Lexi said with a forced smile. Whatever she’d been about to say to him, had her rattled.
“No worries,” Jenna told them, making herself at home and grabbing a can of seltzer from the refrigerator. “I’m sure I can find something else to do.”
Lexi stiffened; Dylan watched her closely as she eyed her niece.
“I know my reliable and trustworthy niece isn’t going to take this opportunity to go get herself in trouble with a man that’s far too old for her, now is she?”
“I had no intention of getting into trouble,” Jenna said, her lips sneaking up at the corners.
“How about the man that’s far too old for you? Was he planning to get into trouble?”
Jenna turned her gaze to Dylan. “How old are you, Mr. James?”
He looked between the two of them cautiously. “It’s Dylan and I’m twenty-nine.”
“Do you think my aunt is too old for you?”
He wanted to laugh because the question was ridiculous. He’d never thought about Lexi’s age, even once, let alone that she might be too old for him.
“I mean, she is almost five years older than you.”
She was?
“It’s different, J, and you know it. If I was twenty and he was fifteen, it would be a helluva lot different. You’re a minor and he’s an adult.”
Dylan was starting to get the gist of what was going on and felt a slither of discomfort. The idea of Jenna with a twenty-year-old man made his gut churn. He remembered being twenty very clearly and he hadn’t been at his most chivalrous. He and his friends had mostly been on a quest to sleep with every woman that breathed in their direction.
None of them would have touched a kid, which Jenna was, but there were men out there that wouldn’t hesitate to cross that line.
“Twenty is way too old for you,” Dylan agreed, completely out of his depth but still confident in saying it. “Men at that age are especially stupid. Take it from me, I was there not that long ago.”
Interested, Jenna leaned against the counter and put her chin in her hand. “What kinds of things do men do at that age?”
She was baiting him, he realized quickly. She was fiery and funny and absolutely pulling his chain.
Even still, he wasn’t about to go into detail about the things men went after women for. It wasn’t his place. He wasn’t even sure it was Lexi’s place.
“Never mind,” she said, waving him off. “I’ll just head home then. I’ve got a new project I’m working on anyway. No need to get yourself worked up.” She sent a pointed look at Lexi. “Especially you. Auntie Beth is trying so hard not to be on you all the time, but she’s wearing a hole in the floor, pacing at our house non-stop. The whole ‘falling down a flight of stairs’ thing—”
“Half a flight,” Lexi cut in.
“Anyway. Love you.” Jenna kissed her aunt on the cheek and then eyed him. “Still waiting on that summer internship offer. Better grab me up before I accept the one I got from the school of arts.”
On a laugh, she left the room and let herself out the front door.
Dylan, feeling a bit bemused, looked back Lexi.
“Twenty?” he asked, still thinking about the man they’d been talking about.
“I swear I will go to jail if I find out she’s been sneaking around with a grown-ass man.” Her eyes met his and there was angry intention there, something that made her lips purse and her cheeks flush. “Men that age are lying, skunk-faced, weasel pricks.”
The look on her face dared him to argue with her.
He wasn’t touching that with a ten-foot pole.
6
If there was one thing Alex knew about Dylan James, it was that the man knew how to please a woman.
Hard and fast or soft and slow, he knew just which buttons to push to make her go off like a rocket. It could have been her pregnancy hormones. They tended to do weird things, like make her gums bleed or her boobs grow a few cup sizes, but the whole orgasm thing was off the charts.
At first, she attributed the amazing sex to raging hormones.
After a week of being sexed-up by Dylan, she’d come to realize it was just him.
She ruminated on that Sunday morning as she lounged naked on his couch. He was spooned behind her, leisurely rubbing his fingertips up and down her side, still inside her after their last round.
He’d taken her to dinner the night before at Wave, Boston’s hottest restaurant. Not only had they eaten there, but he’d gotten a chef’s table in the kitchen so she could see everything.
She almost felt guilty for ignoring him the entire evening, but the experience of seeing the chefs and kitchen staff at work was well worth it. When the head chef had come over and asked about her company, her baking, she’d about had a coronary.
“I told Peter about the doughnuts you made,” he’d said, a sexy smirk on his face. “And the croissants. And the crepes.”
He must’ve known he had her then. As if she wasn’t a sure thing already, her panties had nearly taken themselves off, she’d been so turned on.
Peter Fitch was a culinary legend. And he knew who she was. Because of Dylan James.
They’d stumbled back into his condo and she’d been naked before they hit the living room. There was no shame, no embarrassment over how much she’d wanted him. Not because she felt indebted for the unbelievable experience he’d given her but because he knew exactly what she’d want. He knew her enough to know that she wasn’t impressed by his fancy car or million thread-count sheets.
“Awfully quiet over there,” he noted, his breath tickling her neck, sending goose bumps along her skin.
“I was just thinking about last night when I went down on you in the dining room,” she told him. He hardened, twitching inside of her. “Now I have you thinking about it, too.”
His hand skimmed across her breast, squeezing her before pulling her closer. “It wasn’t far from my mind either,” he admitted. “Come to think of it, you’re never far from my mind, babe.”
He was always saying things like that. It made her equal parts squishy inside and on guard. She hadn’t met any men, besides her two brothers-in-law, that said things like that.
“That’s because you get off on slumming it with the pregnant girl from the sticks.�
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It was meant to be a funny barb but it hit a little close to home. It was a thought that had crossed her mind a time or two. Jenna had done the honors of searching Dylan’s name on the internet and hadn’t stopped. The last search she’d done included pictures of him with various women from social events.
It wasn’t jealousy that gnawed at her. She knew he’d been with women and she’d never been celibate. It was their breeding that ate at her. They were big names with a lot of pull. There were pictures of them at beautiful galas, dolled up and looking like perfect little society robots.
Dylan sat up behind her, dislodging himself, and rested on his elbow as he looked down at her. “Is that what you think this is?”
She flipped onto her back. “I was just playing around. Freehope isn’t the sticks.” He didn’t even come close to cracking a smile. “Jeez, Dylan, I was just kidding.”
“It’s not funny. I don’t ever want you thinking I’m with you for any other reason than the truth.”
“Which is?”
“That I like you. That, even though we’ve from different backgrounds, we still have a lot in common.”
“We do?” she said on a laugh. “And what are those things?”
“We both run our own businesses and we aren’t afraid to work hard. We both tend to lose ourselves in work, which isn’t always a bad thing.”
“I wasn’t saying that we have nothing in common.”
“I can tell you that the women I’ve dated, the ones I’ve always known, the ones that are part of my parent’s crowd, aren’t half as interesting as you are.”
“Well, when a woman is pregnant with a baby that isn’t even hers, it’s pretty hard to top.”
His lips twitched at that. “True. But none of them have what you have, Lexi. They don’t have your fire or your drive and those are two things I love about you. You aren’t afraid to jump headlong into something new.” He looked pointedly at her growing stomach. “You aren’t afraid to shrug off what everyone else might think about you because you have something that needs to get done.”
“So, my ability to not give a shit is on the pro list? I am so telling my sisters,” she told him, sitting up. “They’ve been telling me for years that I scare people away with that attitude.” She grabbed his shirt from the floor and slipped it on, bending over to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’m going to start breakfast. I’m finally hungry, for once, and I want to strike while that iron’s hot and not barfing.”
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