Mr. Accidental Cowboy_Jet City Matchmaker Series_Dylan

by Gina Robinson

  I was staring at Dylan. Our eyes met. Unmasked, he was even more handsome. It took me a moment to realize the driver was talking to me and find my voice.

  “Something like that.” I unbuckled and grabbed my mask and purse. “Can you wait a minute? I’ll give you a signal. If I give you a thumbs-up, you’re good to go.”

  “Ah, poor guy,” the driver said. “You don’t like. He looks like a big, decent sort to me. Not too hard on the eyes, I’d think most ladies would say.”

  I took a deep breath to hide my sigh. “No, not hard on the eyes at all. It’s his opinion of me I’m worried about.”

  “I’m not trying to be politically incorrect, but you’re not terribly hard on the eyes, either.”

  “Thank you.”

  It was sweet of him to say. He couldn’t know what was really going through my mind. I slid out of the car. Dylan hesitated, watching my reaction as our eyes met, his mask held casually at his side. He held it up, cocked his head, and lifted an eyebrow.

  I held my swan mask up to the window and smiled uncertainly, nodding slightly.

  He broke into a grin, took a step toward the car, and opened my door for me. “Odette, I presume?”

  “Cowboy.” I slid out, wanting to slide into Dylan’s arms, but resisting. “Still playing space cowboy after all these years?”

  My heart continued pounding like a jackhammer, and just as noisily, too. And me with no ear, or heart, protection. Yes, I was feeling vulnerable.

  “And you’re still playing a swan, Laura.” His voice was deep and strong, but wavered just slightly. Was it possible he was as emotional as I was? “Your costumes are getting more complex and”—his gaze ran over me—“hot. Or maybe that’s just you.”

  “I have a more sophisticated designer now.”

  The car was still waiting. Dylan was still waiting for my decision to trust him. I turned to the driver and flashed him the signal. He returned the thumbs-up and put the car in gear.

  “You sure about that?” Dylan said. “You don’t know where I’m taking you.”

  “There are other Ubers.”

  The car drove away.

  Dylan raised an eyebrow. “That’s reassuring.”

  I laughed. “So. What are we doing?” I looked around the park, which was surprisingly quiet for such a nice morning, just a few joggers out.

  “Have you ever been to the top of the water tower?”

  Water towers have a bad rep. The first thing that came to my mind was a painted water tank on huge stilts. Maybe some graffiti. Climbing up the metal rungs of a ladder. Not the most romantic of visions. But whatever. He had something in mind. I had to trust him, as I’d trusted him for years now.

  I shook my head.

  He grinned. “You’re not familiar with Volunteer Park?”

  “I know it by reputation. I’ve actually never been here before.”

  He nodded and took my hand. “You’re going to like this water tower. I promise.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he led me down a path into the park. “Ashley tells me I need to be completely honest with you now.” He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I knew who you were the minute I first saw you.”

  I relaxed, glad he’d broken the ice on the charade.

  “The recognition was mutual.” I bit my lip and squeezed his hand, which felt natural holding mine. “And if you must know, I was avoiding you all evening, hoping some other cowboy was the object of my clue and my perfect match.”

  “You too?” He sounded amused. “You obviously don’t know Ashley well enough. From the second Ashley told me about you and wanted to match us up, I knew she wouldn’t give up. When I spotted you at the ball, I realized I’d underestimated her underhandedness. I knew I was doomed.”

  “Doomed?”

  He laughed. “In my attempts to avoid you, I danced with a every other swan there. But resistance was…”

  “Futile,” I finished for him.

  Dylan stopped suddenly in front of a long flight of steps up a hill to an old red brick tower, reminiscent of Rapunzel’s tower in an old book of fairytales my grandma had. He pointed to it. “What do you think?”

  “You’re not planning to lock me in there, are you?”

  He laughed. “Not yet, anyway. At least not until your hair grows a good”—he looked like he was measuring and estimating—“several stories, at least.”

  “It looks like Rapunzel’s tower to you too?”

  “Only when you hinted.” He nodded toward the steps. “There are plenty more in the tower, but the view of the city from the top is worth the climb.”

  I nodded. A lot more here was worth the climb and the trouble.

  He led the way through the tall, pillared doorway that looked like the entrance to a Greek or Roman temple, with the inscription Aqua Pura above. Definitely a water tower.

  Up, up, up, and around the spiral staircase as we climbed in silence, pausing to glance out the occasional window. The tower was deserted, which suited me fine.

  Finally, the staircase ended in the top floor—a circular room with red brick walls and grated arched windows regularly spaced from floor to above our heads, though not nearly as high as the ceiling. Sun streamed in, creating an intricate, grated shadow pattern on the floor.

  We walked from window to window, exclaiming and marveling at the views of Seattle. Dylan stood behind me, his hands at my waist.

  “This is a view of the city I’ve never seen.” I was too aware of his hands and the way we were avoiding talking about anything of consequence.

  “Sometimes it helps to see something from a distance and every angle.” He spoke carefully and deliberately. “So you can see its full beauty.”

  I nodded. He was talking about more than the city.

  He took my hand and led me to a bench with one of the best views out the windows to the city.

  I sat next to him, my hand between his two. “Last night was a beautiful view of us. The way we can be if we decide to forget the past and simply start fresh.”

  I bit my lip. He’d taken me here, to this private place, to talk, and I intended to. “But I think it would be better if we cleared the air.”

  He squeezed my hand and dropped his gaze, intently studying the shadow pattern on the concrete floor. “There’s nothing we need to talk about. Maturity has made me see things differently, from another angle.” He glanced at me. “Your angle.”

  “I disagree.” Thinking of the past, I shivered. The memory never warmed. Even now, the chill and the nausea from that night welled up. Less than it had been. More than I wished it was. Some things the passage of time barely dinged. Fear and humiliation, and the primal memory of it, were two.

  He pressed my hand tightly between his. “Would you like me to let go? Would you prefer I don’t touch you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Is it okay if I put my arm around you?”

  I nodded, relieved he understood how vile the memory was and how delicate it made me. How sensitive he was. I was touched by his compassion.

  “What happened,” I began, slowly, composing my words carefully, trying to get the right tenor, the right nuance, across, “isn’t what you think. Isn’t what the town thinks. I didn’t encourage him. I didn’t lead him on. I wasn’t even drinking.”

  I swallowed, fighting back the bile. “After the dance, he took me to a room at the hotel like we’d planned, where all of us—my friends and I—were staying. We’d booked rooms so we could party all night. It was the grownup thing to do. Our parents approved.”

  I took another breath. “I was so naïve. I thought the rooms were…just for partying. I didn’t realize he’d booked a separate room for us.” Over the years, I’d disassociated myself with what happened as a way of coping. Even now, it was effective. Remembering, I felt like an outsider looking in. “I didn’t like him that well. I wasn’t even feeling well. I told him no. He was drunk. He wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t stop—”

  Dylan pulled me closer. “When I found you o
n the street, there was so much blood.”

  “Yes.” I sighed. “After, I just ran out. But that wasn’t…” I sighed again. “I was having my period.”

  Dylan looked at me, startled. As if he hadn’t even considered before… Well, how would he know?

  “I was so sick with it that I almost didn’t go to prom. I’ve wished a million times since then that I hadn’t. I have so many regrets. But I was prom queen and I had Mr. Popularity as a date. I had to go.”

  I should have set Dylan straight all those years ago, but I’d been too embarrassed. I was only marginally less so now.

  Dylan pulled me tighter against him. “When I found you walking home alone in the early morning hours, that wasn’t all him?” Dylan sat stiffly beside me, expecting the most horrific answer.

  I shook my head. “No.” I looked off into the distance and forced myself to breathe slowly and calmly. “He forced me. It was…terrible. But he wasn’t that rough.” I swallowed and chanced a glance at Dylan. “I should have defied my grandpa and gone with you like I wanted to.”

  Dylan whipped his head up and studied me. I turned to look at him, surprised by how surprised he looked.

  “I would never have—”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry.” He balled his fist. “I wanted to kill him.”

  I nodded. “I know. I did too. It took a long time before I trusted a guy again.”

  Dylan swore beneath his breath. “You’re okay now? I mean—”

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “I’ve come to terms with it and put it behind me. I don’t like to dwell on it. Let’s change the subject.” I really didn’t like to stay in that darkness.

  He nodded. “You wanted to go with me?”

  “Of course I did!” I frowned. “You didn’t know? I told you.”

  “I thought that was just a polite kiss-off.”

  I smiled. “You must have been the only guy in town with no ego. I desperately wanted to go with you. It was the rift between our grandpas that stopped me. My grandpa insisting yours cheated him over a horse when they were young and never forgiving him. And you so close to your granddad.”

  Dylan nodded. “Yeah. I heard that story a time or two. But we were going to go to prom and go public with our relationship.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “About that—my grandpa got wind of it and insisted I end it with you before prom or he was cutting off my funding for college. You know my parents couldn’t afford to send me. Grandpa had all the money, and with it, all the power.”

  “College or me? And you chose college?” He clucked his tongue.

  I went silent.

  “Hey.” He bumped me playfully with his shoulder. “I’m teasing. You made the right choice. Why would you choose a fat prom date over your future? That’s just dumb life planning.”

  “You weren’t fat. You were stout and tall.” I bumped him back. “I like tall and stout. And I wish I’d known how practical and sensible you are.”

  “Stout and tall is putting it kindly,” he said. “Compared to all those wiry cowboys in town, I was gargantuan.”

  “Compared to all the girls in town, so was I.”

  He looked at me, surprise all over his face again. “No, Laura. You were always just right and beautiful.”

  I stared at him with wide eyes that were filling with tears.

  “And your grandpa?” Dylan said.

  “Has no financial hold over me now, the old fool.” I had snapped that chain a long time ago, as soon as I could.

  Dylan looked like he approved. “And about prom night, did you…get help? Rape is—”

  I nodded. “My parents got me counseling right away. That was why I went away and didn’t walk at graduation. Why I didn’t go back to school. I finished my exams long distance. My parents sent me to my aunt in Seattle. I couldn’t stand the thought of running into him around town.”

  Dylan nodded. He pulled me to him and caressed my hair. “I’m sorry, Laura.”

  “You’re not the one who should be,” I said into his chest. “You’re the one who found me walking home and gave me a ride. You’re the one who wanted to take me to the hospital and call the police.”

  I took another deep breath. “I just wanted to forget. I thought it was my fault. I was too embarrassed by the whole thing and didn’t think anyone would believe me.” I pulled back enough to look Dylan in the eye. “I know better now. You were upset with me then. Do you understand now?”

  “I was upset, period.” His eyes were dark and solemn. “After you left, I kept hoping you’d come back. Get in touch.”

  “I just wanted to forget.” I paused. “I was a big girl in a small town where rumors flew and people took sides. Most of them were on his.”

  “Oh, Laura.” Dylan leaned his forehead against mine.

  “It’s all right.” I stroked his cheek. “That was a long time ago.” I paused. “You kept my secret. You didn’t tell Ashley our real past, did you?”

  “Why would I?” he said in a low voice. “You asked me not to tell anyone. I promised I wouldn’t. That included Ashley. How did you know?”

  “By the way she thought we were just being stubborn, and maybe even childish,” I said. “Do you think she’d have set us up if she’d known? I don’t.”

  “Maybe not telling her was just selfish of me.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Knowing Ashley as well as I do, I knew she’d never give up, particularly if she thought I was being childish.”

  “Diabolical,” I said. “You’re as bad and conniving as she is.” Which made me deliriously happy.

  “What do we do now?” He voice was so tender that it nearly made me cry.

  “You’re the man with the plan for the day,” I said. “Or is this it—a talk in the park?”

  He laughed softly. “A talk in a romantic water tower in a park.”

  “Ah,” I said. “A subtle distinction.” I grinned at him. “Can water towers be romantic?”

  “You tell me.”

  I laughed.

  “There’s plenty more to this romantic day I’ve planned,” Dylan said. “If you’re up for it?”

  “Up for it?” I said, pretending to be offended by the mere suggestion I wasn’t. “I’m prepared for a marathon day, cowboy.”

  He studied me. “Can I make a suggestion?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can we go forward now as Odette and the cowboy, the people we are now, and try to minimize the baggage from the past?”

  “Absolutely! I was going to suggest it myself.”

  “Can I call you Laura, though?” He was grinning. “It’s just easier.”

  “Absolutely, cowboy.”

  He grinned and kissed me. And kissed me. And kissed me.

  When we finally pulled away, we had enormous grins.

  He glanced at his watch. “We’d better get going or we’ll be late for our private chocolate factory tour.”

  “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory!” I said. “You remembered I loved that story when we were kids.”

  He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Don’t expect Oompa-Loompas.”

  “As long as I get to sample the chocolate.”

  15

  Dylan

  Thirteen years of feeling inferior and thinking the girl I’d been madly infatuated with thought I was a nerd who was beneath her, despised me, had changed her mind after getting to know me, and took great pleasure in humiliating me. The young me had watched too many damned teenager movies about the class reject and the popular crowd.

  Thirteen years of thinking I’d failed Laura, that I should have been more of a hero. Of thinking I’d imagined what we’d had and that young love was just an illusion. Thirteen years of misperception all washed away with time and a simple, mature conversation. The key being mature, which hadn’t been possible thirteen years ago. We’d both earned maturity with time and life experience. It was time to stop beating myself up over being a stupid eighteen-year-old kid without much confidence
and a lot of naivety.

  After the chocolate tour, I took Laura to a cozy, homey diner where none of the waitresses were under fifty and all of them were renowned for not taking guff from a customer. They had a comeback for everything.

  I’d requested a booth by the windows, which was where we sat, our stash of chocolate bars on the table between us. Laura was counting them as if they were gold bricks, laughing. She was so beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  “Twelve.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at me.

  “And a whole batch of custom-blended chocolate bars to be delivered to you next week.” I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve corrupted you. What are you going to do with that much chocolate?”

  “Lose my figure.”

  My eyes must have gone wide. She laughed at me. “Relax. The engineers at work will polish it off in short order. They won’t care that it’s a blend made from cocoa beans from all over the world, or that it’s thirty percent cacao. They’ll just devour it and lick their lips.”

  “Civilized bunch you work with.” I was having too much fun with her.

  “I’ll save you a bar.” Laura picked up her menu.

  “You’d better.”

  Our waitress came over with her pad and pen. She looked about a hundred, but moved spryly enough. Her nametag said Shirley. I’d asked for her intentionally. Shirley. Surely. I wanted a sure thing. My heart pounded. She was part of the plan.

  She licked the end of her pencil and put it to her pad as her gaze flicked between us. She poised her pencil. I imagined her writing must look like an old lady’s chicken scratch. Spidery was the description that came to mind. “What can I get for you?”

  Laura hesitated.

  “Need more time?” Shirley said. “Time. Ask me about time. It flies by too fast.” She patted her gray bun. “Before you know it, it’s gone, and you’ve lost your figure and got gray hair. If you ask me, it’s time to seize the day.” She pointed to Laura’s stash of chocolate. “No outside food allowed.”

  “It’s wrapped,” Laura said.

  “So long as it stays that way.”