“You’re serious?” When Dylan nodded, Eve seemed genuinely perplexed. “How can you be so certain?”
“Many of my friends are happily married,” Dylan explained. “I had a ringside seat when my best friend fell in love. You met him.”
“Levi?” Eve asked.
Again, Dylan nodded. The spark of interest he saw in Eve’s eyes did not make him happy.
“Must I remind you again?” he said, irritated beyond what was reasonable or rational. “The ring on Levi’s left hand isn’t a fashion statement. He’s married. Tied to Piper for life.”
“I met Levi for five seconds,” Eve said, her expression puzzled. “I flirted a little. Why are you so obsessed?”
“Then you admit you flirted,” Dylan crowed before he realized he shouldn’t be happy about her confession.
“I’m friendly with the customers at the bar,” she said, shrugging. “Men leave bigger tips if I engage them in a little harmless flirtation.”
“Not with me,” Dylan pointed out. “Never with me.”
Eve didn’t respond—deliberately from Dylan’s point of view. Intrigued by her uncustomary silence, he pressed the point.
“Eve.” When she didn’t look his way, Dylan tapped the edge of her seat, his fingers almost brushing her leg but careful not to cross a line she might find objectionable. “Tell me why. How am I different than everyone else?”
“You want an answer? Really?”
Eve’s gaze seemed to challenge Dylan. The tone of her voice almost dared him to say yes. Never one to back down even when a niggling warning sounded in his head, he looked her straight in the eyes.
“Yes.”
“Fine.” Eve nodded. “The second I saw you, I recognized you as Tanner’s brother. I was predisposed to hate your guts.”
“Ouch.” Direct hit. Dylan cleared his throat. “I’m not my brother. Nor should I be judged by his actions.”
“I’m not a big fan of guilt by association,” Eve admitted. “However, my reaction was visceral. Some things you can’t control.”
“And now?” Dylan wasn’t ready to drop the subject. “In your mind, am I still just Tanner’s brother?”
“No.” Eve lowered her gaze and her voice. “Now you’re the man who plans to take Daisy from me.”
Dylan sighed. To his right, was the specter of his brother’s misdeeds. To the left, Eve saw the man who would separate her from Daisy. Talk about a no-win situation.
“I’ll take care of her.” Dylan didn’t make the promise lightly.
Eve rubbed her palms on the legs of her jeans, a sure sign she wasn’t as calm as she pretended to be.
“I need to believe you.”
Something told Dylan that Eve’s need hadn’t completely crossed over to reality. He searched for the right words to reassure her. What could he say that wouldn’t sound like empty platitudes to her ears?
“Eve—”
“I could fight you.” Her chin rose several inches. “Maybe I wouldn’t win—”
“Maybe?” Dylan shook his head. “Definitely.”
Eve ignored his proclamation.
“Daisy needs me.” A glimmer of desperation entered Eve’s gray eyes. “Your brother made his position clear when he ignored Ellie’s letters begging him to come back. He doesn’t want to be a father. He doesn’t care about his daughter.”
Since Eve’s assessment of Tanner was spot on, Dylan couldn’t argue. What she said was true. Irrefutable. However, he needed her to understand that not every member of the Montgomery family was created equal.
“I care,” he said. “My mother is the one who sent me. She’s over the moon at the idea of showering her granddaughter with love.”
“Shouldn’t what’s best for Daisy come first?” Eve demanded. “Your mother doesn’t know her. You’ve been in her life for all of five seconds. I’m the one who’s been there. Worried. Walked the floors. Me. Not you. And not your mother.”
“Sounds like you’re worried about what’s best for Eve, not Daisy.”
Dylan knew he sounded harsh. When Eve winced, the pain in her eyes palpable, he almost apologized. But if her thoughts and concerns were truly about Daisy, she had to understand the cold, hard facts.
“Fight me. Go ahead,” Dylan urged. “Maybe you’ll find a lawyer who will take your case. Most will tell you it’s a lost cause.”
“I won’t throw Daisy away,” Eve said, her words fierce and passionate.
“Who asked you to?” Dylan asked. “If you can’t be reasonable, be realistic. In the short run, a court battle, no matter how short and futile, would drain you dry, monetarily, and emotionally. Trials bring out the worst in people, Eve. Things are said on both sides that can’t be taken back.”
“You sound like an expert.” Eve didn’t look happy, but her emotions weren’t as heated. “How many custody battles have you fought.”
“None,” Dylan admitted. “I’m addicted to legal thrillers. When the Knights are on the road, I pass the long flights by reading. John Grisham is my favorite.”
“Is your point to confuse me?” Eve demanded. “What does Grisham have to do with Daisy?”
Dylan pulled the SUV to a stop near a sign that read in big, red lettering, COMING SOON. LUXURY CONDOMINIUMS. Milford Construction. Keeping his hands on the steering wheel, he stared straight ahead and picked his words carefully.
“What I learned from reading—what transfers to real life—is this. Actions matter. Right now, you want to fight to keep Daisy. Understandable. You made a promise to her mother.”
“Wanting to keep Daisy with me goes way beyond a promise,” Eve insisted.
“Your feelings are involved.” Dylan nodded. “But, Eve. If you love, Daisy, try thinking ahead. Instead of rushing into what can only become messy and unwinnable, play the long game.”
“Long game?” Clearly reaching the end of her patience, Eve frowned. “Are you talking about football? Because if you are, save your analogies. I don’t follow the game.”
“Football has a lot of upsides,” Dylan argued, always willing to play cheerleader for the sport he loved. Seeing Eve’s narrowed gaze, he realized now was not the time. “The long game refers to what is best for Daisy. Not today, but tomorrow and far down the road.”
“Okay.” Eve sighed. “Explain.”
“Who wins if we go to court? The lawyers who only care about taking our money. Me, because I hold all the cards. All of them,” Dylan said when Eve would have protested.
“Daisy needs to know I’m on her side,” Eve insisted. “If I give up—”
“Give up?” Dylan didn’t understand why Eve was stuck on the term. “You stuck with her when most people would have handed her over to the authorities and walked away without a twinge of guilt.”
“Taking care of Daisy wasn’t a hardship,” Eve said.
“If you care. If you love her. Do the hard thing, Eve,” Dylan said. “Don’t fight me. If you do, when Daisy is old enough to understand what happened, the anger we spew at each other will one day land on her.”
Eve closed her eyes. She took a moment, absorbing what Dylan said. When he glanced her way, he noted she was sad. But he saw something else. Something that made the pressure on his chest ease. He saw acceptance.
“You’re right,” she said.
“Music to my ears” Lightly teasing, hoping to remove some of the tension between them, Dylan smiled. Eve didn’t.
“The DNA results haven’t come back.” She said. “What if Daisy isn’t your niece?”
Thinking of the phone call he received from Erin Ashmore just a short time ago, Dylan considered sharing the information that the results were done and could come in at any minute, he decided to wait until he could tell her one way or the other.
“If Daisy isn’t related to me, what do you think should happen?” Dylan shifted, leaning closer to Eve—close enough to hear the catch in her breathing as he whispered, “Should I forget? Pretend
we never met?”
“If you like,” she said as she swallowed.
Eve was nervous, Dylan realized. And not as immune to me as she pretended. Happy if not satisfied, he unbuckled her seatbelt.
“Forgetting you won’t be easy.”
“No?” Eve licked her lips, drawing Dylan’s gaze. “Why not?”
“Ask me another time.” Dylan smiled. Looking at her over his shoulder, he exited the car. “If you have the nerve.”
“Arrogant, twit.” Eve scrambled to open the door. Once outside, she rushed toward Dylan. “My nerves are steady as a rock. But I won’t ask. Never.”
Dylan unloaded the insulated bags from the back of the car. Handing the small pile to Eve, he lifted the rest. A group of hungry construction workers waited, beckoning them over.
“Okay,” Dylan said as he followed Eve. “But remember one thing.”
“What’s that,” she taunted.
“Never is a hell of a long time.”
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
CHAPTER FIVE
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DYLAN WAS EARLY for his date with Eve. Or rather, their non-date. He considered the meal they were about to share to be a socially acceptable rite of passage in the early stages of any couple’s relationship.
Wisely, Dylan kept his opinion to himself. As far as Eve was concerned tonight was nothing more than two people with a similar interest—Daisy, to be exact—passing time together. If he mentioned words like date or relationship, she wouldn’t have agreed.
If Dylan even hinted that they were a couple what would Eve do? His vivid imagination conjured up a few scenarios. First, and the less extreme option, she would cancel their plans. Second, she would be so offended, so appalled at the idea of linking herself to him in a romantic way, she would joyfully peel a layer of skin from the most sensitive part of his body she could reach.
Because neither option appealed to Dylan, he didn’t make a big deal out of the evening. He told Eve that he picked the nicest, most expensive restaurant in the area for his dining enjoyment, not hers.
Dylan explained that donning a suit and tie was second nature when he went out to eat. Eve hesitated but didn’t question his reasoning.
Smiling, he checked his appearance in the rearview mirror before heading into Shady Dan’s. Truth was, he wanted to give Eve a special night out. She worked so hard with little time for herself. By the end of the evening, he wanted her to feel pampered. If she let her guard down, if her heart melted toward him even the slightest bit, he wouldn’t complain.
A stocky man in his forties, balding, with a sweaty upper lip and wearing a t-shirt that read, I Honk for Jesus, stopped Dylan at the bar’s entrance.
“Private party tonight. If you want a drink, head down the road, about four blocks west, to The White Horse Saloon. The owner keeps the beer a little on the warm side. But, hell, alcohol doesn’t need to be cold to give you a buzz. Am I right?”
“Sure.” Dylan figured his best path to Eve was if he agreed and nodded. “I’m here to pick up one of the waitresses, not crash the party. I’ll wait here if you don’t mind. Promise. I won’t get in the way.”
“Can’t be Tammy’s guy. I met him last week.” Eyes narrowed, the man looked Dylan up and down. “Too good looking for Julie. She likes her men a little older and more down at the heels. Easier to keep on a short leash. Know what I mean?”
Dylan could imagine, though he wasn’t thrilled with the picture painted in his head.
“I don’t know Tammy or Julie,” Dylan said. “If you’d let Eve Stewart know I’m here, I would appreciate it.”
“Eve?” The man let out a snort of surprise. “You’re pulling my leg.”
“Believe me,” Dylan assured the man. “I wouldn’t even try.”
“Whatever your selling, fancy pants, pack it up, and hit the road.” The man puffed out his chest as he flexed the muscles of his tattoo-covered biceps. “Eve doesn’t date. Better men than you have tried.”
“You included?” When the man’s bluster faltered and a red stain traveled up his neck, Dylan knew he’d hit the nail on the head.
“You have a problem, mister?” The man asked, his hands balling into a fist. “I wouldn’t mind knocking some shine off your pretty face.”
Tempting as the prospect was, Dylan backed off before he said something that added fuel to the fire.
“You’re right. Eve isn’t interested in me in a romantic way.” Not right now, Dylan added to himself. “We’re friends. Nothing more.”
“Trouble brewing, Len?”
With a paper party hat perched on her head, a woman stopped next to Len and gave Dylan the once over. Third time today, he thought. The residents of Trident must take lessons in how to administer suspicious looks.
“Claims he’s here to pick up Eve.” Len sniffed once, then again for good measure. “Don’t know, Pauline. Seems unlikely.”
“What’s your name, son?” Pauline asked.
“Dylan Montgomery.”
“The football player?” Pauline cackled with delight as Dylan blinked in surprise. “I’ll be damned.”
“I know professional football is a popular sport,” Dylan said with a shake of his head. “But I play for the Knights. Why are so many people in Trident fans of a team from the Pacific Northwest?”
“We do like the game,” Pauline said, the look of belligerence on her face replaced by a stupid grin. Len nodded in agreement. “Trouble is, we don’t have an NFL franchise here in New Mexico.”
“No, we don’t,” Len sighed.
“And we sure as hell won’t support a team from freaking Arizona.” Pauline scoffed at the idea.
“Hell, no.” Just the thought made Len’s eyes bug out and twitch with indignation.
“Our mayor is a transplant from Seattle. We just followed her lead,” Pauline said, finally providing an answer Dylan could understand.
“Eve won’t be ready to leave for another half hour or so.” Len slapped Dylan on the back. “Come on in and have a drink while you wait.”
“If you’re sure no one will mind,” Dylan said as he was practically dragged into the bar.
“I’m the birthday girl.” Pauline grinned. “Meeting you is the best gift I’ve received in many a year.”
“Dylan?” Eve’s eyes widened when she turned form serving a drink. “What are you doing?”
Flanked by Pauline on his right and Len on his left, Dylan was trapped with nowhere to run. When someone placed a bright purple hat on his head, snapping the attached rubber band under his chin, he wondered if he’d wandered into a horror movie.
Death in a Small Town seemed like an apt title. Dylan felt a wave of panic. This, he decided, is how I die.
“Eve?” he whispered.
“Yes?” she asked as she leaned close.
Afraid to give himself away, Dylan tried to send his thoughts to Eve telepathically. When she shrugged, he mouthed one word. Help!
Eve looked at him, a confused frown between her brows. Then, her lips twitched, and Dylan knew he was on his own.
“Would you like a beer?” she asked after Len shoved a chair at Dylan, buckling his legs. “Or can I get you something harder?”
“Water,” Dylan said, determined to keep every one of his wits about him.
“Still or sparkling,” Eve wanted to know, enjoying Dylan’s discomfort way too much.
“Doesn’t matter.” Dylan glared, silently promising retaliation. “Anything is fine.”
“I’ll be right back,” she told him without an ounce of human sympathy.
Resigned to his fate, Dylan watched Eve stop every few feet to take a drink order. Dressed in the same heels and short shorts that she had on the night they met, her bare legs looked amazing—creamy and smooth. He tipped his head to the side and smiled when he realized her backside looked better.
Dylan wasn’t the only one who noticed. As Eve moved toward the bar, a large man, young
and handsome in a callow sort of way, reached out and slapped her on the butt.
Outraged, Dylan surged to his feet. Before he could slam his fist into the jerk's grinning mouth, Eve turned, planted her foot in the middle of the man’s chest, and shoved. He toppled backward.
Eve was on the asshole in a flash, planting the heel of her shoe firmly between his legs. Every man, young and old, winced in sympathy. Every woman in the room cheered.
“I warned you before about touching me or anyone else without permission, Jerry.” Eve twisted her foot, and the pointed heel, to the right.
“I didn’t mean any harm,” Jerry yelped, tears in his eyes. “Never again. I promise.”
“What do you say, Pauline?” Eve asked. “Should I let him go?”
“Spear his family jewels,” Pauline shouted. “With my blessing.”
“Mom!” Jerry sobbed. “You can’t be serious.”
“Hell. Between your brother and two sisters, I have enough grandkids to spoil.” Pauline shrugged. “Or, you could have Dan ban Jerry from the bar. A year might do the trick. Your decision, Eve.”
“Blood would ruin my shoe,” Eve decided.
After Eve pulled her foot away, Jerry rolled to his side, curling into a ball. Looking at his pitiful figure, she sighed. Then, with an evil smile, she kicked him in the butt and walked away.
“Eve can handle herself,” Pauline said, observing the expression of awe on Dylan’s face. “She’s quite a woman.”
Heart pounding, Dylan nodded. Eve was more than special. She was spectacular.
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
CHAPTER SIX
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EVE SMOOTHED A bit of color onto her lips. Brazen Red, according to the tube of lip gloss. The effect was okay, she thought, their almost kiss was still fresh in her mind. All things considered, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to draw Dylan’s attention to her mouth.
“You put Jerry Walton in his place,” Lana Engels said as she packed her uniform into a black duffle bag. She fluffed her blonde hair and sighed. “Whenever he comes into the bar, I dread walking the floor.”
The Last Honest Man: A Sports Romance (One Pass Away: A New Season Book 3) Page 7