“I need you to leave me alone,” Eve said in a rush when Dylan would have reached for her again.
“No reason to take my head off.” Dylan sighed. “I thought we’d moved past the snap and growl stage of our relationship. Guess I was wrong.”
“Beyond Daisy, we don’t have a relationship.” Eve steeled herself against the flash of hurt in Dylan’s eyes. Afraid he would see the same emotion in hers, she kept her head down. “May I see the DNA results?”
“You don’t believe me?” Dylan asked.
“Why would you lie? And yet…” Eve held out her hand. “I’d be remiss as Daisy’s guardian not to verify her paternity with my own eyes.”
“Exactly what I knew you’d say.” The side of Dylan’s mouth quirked into a semblance of a smile. He took an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. “I brought you a copy.”
When Eve set the papers aside, Dylan frowned.
“You aren’t going to take a look?” he asked.
“Later.” Smiling at Daisy, Eve fed the little girl another bite of cereal. “You can go.”
“Guess I’ve been dismissed.” Dylan rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “We have things to talk over.”
“I’ll have Daisy ready for you to take first thing tomorrow.”
Eve spoke the words without a trace of emotion. Inside, she felt as though someone grabbed hold of her guts and slowly ripped them to shreds.
“So soon?” Dylan shook his head. “A few days won’t make any difference.”
“Why wait?” Eve shrugged. “The result will be the same. Besides, the sooner Daisy is exposed to her new environment, the faster she’ll adjust.”
The same goes for me, Eve thought. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. The faster the better. The pain would be excruciating at first. But eventually, she would get over the loss. Or so she wanted to believe.
“We’ll talk later.” Dylan paused at the door. “You want to throw Daisy away with so little regard?”
Dylan’s words cut deeper than any knife. She didn’t want to explain, but her pride and her devotion to Daisy made staying silent impossible.
“I’m not throwing her away,” she said, meeting Dylan’s gaze for the first time. “I’m handing her over to your care. Gently, and with reverence.”
“Could have fooled me.” Dylan’s expression turned thoughtful. “You seem pretty blasé about the whole thing.”
Did you forget? I almost collapsed into a heap. Fool.
“I may not be in Daisy’s life every day, but I will be watching.” Her words weren’t a promise, they were a threat. And she wasn’t afraid to say so. “If you and yours don’t treat her like the precious bundle she is, I will swoop in like hellfire and brimstone and rain hell on you in ways you can’t begin to imagine.”
“And she’s back,” Dylan said.
“Excuse me?”
“Had me worried for a second.” Dylan grinned. “I much prefer fierce, spitting nails at the world Eve. When you’re cold and distant, my stomach gets twisted in a worried knot.”
“Weren’t you on your way out the door?” Eve asked. She almost felt like smiling but she didn’t want Dylan to think he was the reason. “I need to get ready to go out.”
Dylan frowned.
“I thought you said today was your day off.”
To her consternation, Eve's lips had turned loose since she met Dylan. True, her rare day of rest couldn’t be classified as top secret, but she tended to keep personal information to herself. Last night, she spilled more than her day off. She told him about her mother—a subject she never talked about.
Problem was, Eve felt comfortable around Dylan. She found telling him things, whether general information or the deepest, most private parts of her past, easy. If she were inclined toward such things, she might even call her talks with him cathartic. Even healing.
The fact that Eve felt so comfortable around Dylan was another reason she wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. He didn’t belong to her any more than Daisy did. She was alone, something she let herself forget for a little while. Now that she remembered, she would be fine. Eventually.
“A day off doesn’t mean I can laze around the apartment all day,” Eve explained.
“Whatever needs to be done, I’ll help,” Dylan said. “We can get your errands out of the way then take a walk in the park with Daisy. Ice cream is on me.”
Without thinking, Eve almost said yes. She would enjoy every second with Dylan. But they weren’t a family. They were transitory acquaintances. The more time together, the more she was reminded of what she couldn’t have.
“No,” Eve said, shaking her head. “Thank you for the offer. But I don’t feel like company today.”
“If not today, then when?” Dylan wanted to know.
Eve’s answer was short, to the point, and like acid poured into her open wound.
“Never.”
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
CHAPTER NINE
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IN FOOTBALL, EMOTION could carry a team to victory. In life, without passion, day to day living could turn into an endless grind.
As an athlete, Dylan knew the importance of loving what he did. If the only reason he stepped on the field was to earn a paycheck, he would have checked out of the NFL after he played out his first multi-million-dollar contract.
The wear and tear, both mentally and physically, was too much for a person to take long-term simply for the money.
Sitting in the park across from Eve’s apartment building, Dylan wondered how he could explain the concept of all work and no play to a woman who seemed geared toward one and allergic toward the other.
“You don’t have the right to judge,” Mr. Dowd said, handing Dylan half a sandwich. “Eve has lived with the fear of having nothing for so long, she needs to work, or she’ll go crazy.”
“Crazy?” The word seemed like an extreme example. “I think you are exaggerating the situation.”
“Can’t say I know what goes on in her head,” the older man said around a mouthful of pastrami on rye. “One thing’s for certain, I’ve known her longer than you have. When Ellie died, Eve stepped up for Daisy without a second thought. Don’t know how she manages, but somehow, she stretches every hour to the limit without faltering. Not once.”
“I know you and your wife have helped,” Dylan said, not wanting Mr. Dowd to think he wasn’t aware of his contributions.
“What’s hard about babysitting a little girl for a few hours now and then,” Mr. Dowd asked with a wave of his hand. “I’d like to do more. Fact is, when something goes wrong, like a stopped-up sink or a flat tire, Eve never thinks to ask for help. She fixes the problem herself.”
“I know.” Dylan sighed. Wanting to ask Mr. Dowd a question he didn’t feel comfortable discussing with Eve, he hesitated. “About the money my brother sent.”
“Money?” A deep line appeared between Mr. Dowd’s eyebrows as he stopped to think. “Can’t recall Eve mentioning anything. Not that she would, mind you.”
“No,” Dylan agreed.
“Come to think of it, I do remember Ellie received a few checks in the mail. You’d have to ask Eve if the payments continued.” Mr. Dowd made a tsking noise between his teeth. “Didn’t take you for the type who would begrudge a young woman a few dollars.”
“I don’t,” Dylan rushed to assure him.
But ten thousand dollars wasn’t a few dollars. The way Eve lived, taking part-time jobs and living paycheck to paycheck, he couldn’t understand that if she received the money, why hadn’t she used it to make life a little easier.
“Hope not.” Mr. Dowd offered Dylan a potato chip.
“Thank you, no,” he said, respectfully declining.
“Worried about your figure?” Mr. Dowd cackled as he patted his potbelly. “One of the benefits of growing old is I stopped worrying about my waistline. Of course, my wife worries plenty for me.”
> “Must be nice.” Dylan smiled. “She looks after you. You look after her. Makes a nice symmetry.”
“Do you have a woman waiting for you back in Seattle? Or a man.” Mr. Dowd shrugged. “Love is love, either way.”
“No, sir. I don’t have anyone special.” For some reason, Dylan had the desire to apologize.
“You’re still young enough to play the field. Though not as young as you might think.” Mr. Dowd tossed a piece of bread toward a lurking squirrel. The rodent snatched up the offering and scampered up a nearby tree. “Time passes faster than you think. Best thing I ever did was to marry my best girl and start a family.”
“You think I need someone to grow old with?” Dylan asked.
“Hell, no,” Mr. Dowd scoffed. “Old age will come soon enough. Find a person to be young with. Dance. Sing. Stay out to all hours. Most of all, love her like there’s no tomorrow. Especially in bed. Or wherever you prefer.”
“Damn, Mr. Dowd.” Dylan laughed. “When you give advice, you don’t hold back.”
“After almost fifty years, my wife is still my sweetheart.” The older man let out a happy sigh. “We may not be as hot and heavy as when we first were married. But now and then when the mood is right, we can still heat the sheets up. Don’t tell my children.”
Tell Mr. Dowd’s children? How could he untell himself? Dylan felt a blush heat his cheeks, something that hadn’t happened since he was thirteen years old and he shared his first kiss under the bleachers with a beautiful older woman—fifteen and prettier than a spring day in May.
“Memories are good things,” Mr. Dowd said, somehow reading Dylan’s mind. “Keep them close. But don’t forget to live for today.”
“I won’t,” Dylan promised.
“Eve doesn’t think she needs anyone. Probably doesn’t,” Mr. Dowd said with a chuckle. “However, need and want are two different kinds of animals.”
“I…” Dylan shrugged. “I’m not sure what I should say.”
“Stop talking and start doing.” A mischievous twinkle entered the older man’s pale blue eyes. “I’ve seen the way you look at Eve. And I’d have to be blind not to notice the way she tries her damnedest not to look at you.”
Dylan wasn’t convinced. Other than a few smiles and a ceasefire at dinner, Eve sniped at him. To be fair, he sniped back. He enjoyed their verbal sparring, even when she did her best to royally piss him off and he returned the favor.
“We don’t get along—most of the time.”
“Hell, son,” Mr. Dowd said with a delighted cackle. “There’s a dance that lovers do before they get together. The steps are different for every couple. You and Eve fight. I was so shy, I could barely string two words together when Mrs. Dowd was around.”
As outspoken and outgoing as the older man was, Dylan found the idea that Mr. Dowd had a problem communicating his feelings hard to believe.
“Shy? You?” Dylan winked. “Tell me another one.”
“I fell for a woman who likes to talk and wants her man to have an answer when she does.” Mr. Dowd smiled at the memory. “Figured if I wanted to keep her, I better learn to open my mouth. Once the words started flowing, well, they just never stopped.”
“As you said, everyone is different.” Dylan shrugged. “Eve and I have too many obstacles in front of us.”
“Name one,” the older man challenged.
“I’ll name three,” Dylan said, his competitive streak kicking in. “First, we can’t be in the same room for five minutes without finding something to disagree about. Second, we’ve known each other for less than a week. Third, because I need to get back to Seattle, the chances of overcoming number two are almost nonexistent.”
“Almost?” Mr. Dowd asked. “Long as there’s a chance, never say never.”
Dylan wanted to find a solution. However, every time he thought of something, he discovered a dozen new reasons why whatever he and Eve had would never work.
“Hm.” With a shake of his head, Mr. Dowd let out a long sigh. “You disappoint me.”
“Can’t change the facts,” Dylan said.
“Tell me something. If your team is behind by three touchdowns with five minutes to go in the fourth quarter, do you give up?” Mr. Down asked. “Do you throw up your hands and tell your teammates not to keep fighting until the final second ticks off the clock?”
“You’re talking football,” Dylan countered. “A game I understand. Women, Eve particularly, are a mystery I can’t figure out.”
“Which is why she’ll never bore you,” Mr. Dowd said.
“Right now, I’d settle for a little clarity.”
“You’re a smart man. You have money. You know the right people.” Patting Dylan’s shoulder, Mr. Dowd pushed to his feet with a groan. “I have faith you’ll use the brain God gave you and the resources at your disposal to figure something out.”
“I could use a suggestion.” Dylan was desperate for something, anything to use as a jumping-off point.
“Simple,” Mr. Dowd said. “Don’t screw up.”
“Thanks a lot,” Dylan muttered.
“Any time.” Mr. Dowd waved as he crossed the street. “Any time.”
Advice was easy to give, Dylan realized as he tipped his head back and enjoyed the sun’s rays on his face. Finding a nugget in Mr. Dowd’s lengthy dissertation was another matter.
What did he know best? Football. Mentally, Dylan filled a board with x’s and o’s. Just as quick, he abandoned his game plan. Using sports as a metaphor for life worked great in motivational speeches. Where the relationship between a woman and a man was concerned, he needed to take a different tack.
“Eve is the problem,” Dylan decided. “I’m the reasonable one, she’s the hardheaded contrarian.”
Opening his eyes, Dylan sighed. He was stuck, but he wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. He didn’t know what Eve meant to him in the long run. For now, she was important. What he needed was time to figure out why.
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
CHAPTER TEN
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DYLAN LEARNED MANY things about Eve in four days.
Exasperatingly stubborn, she was also fiercely loyal. Dylan doubted he’d met anyone with a college degree who was innately as intelligent as Eve with her high school GED diploma.
Eve’s work ethic was rivaled by none. If anything, she worked too hard in Dylan’s opinion—not that she agreed. She could and would argue any point. But deep down, she possessed a sense of fair play he both admired and envied.
Where Eve’s faults and virtues were concerned, Dylan could have gone on and on. The list was surprisingly long, and he seemed to learn three or four new things every day they were together.
As Dylan stood in her. apartment, he added another item. Eve Stewart was a freaking steamroller. And, he discovered, hopping on one foot, heaven help the fool who dared to stand in her way.
“My body is my livelihood.” Dylan groused. Stumbling to the sofa, he pushed aside a pile of what looked like random crap. and collapsed. He toed off his sneaker before gingerly inspecting the instep she so callously dumped a box onto.
“I told you to move it or lose it,” Eve said without glancing at him. “For a professional athlete who brags constantly about your superior reflexes, you kind of suck at getting out of the way.”
“In football, you’d be flagged for a fifteen-yard penalty,” Dylan told her. “And be tossed out of the game.”
“The NFL can bite me.” As she passed, a box marked toiletries in her arms, Eve stuck out her tongue. “Besides, you’re in my living room. I make the rules.”
“You’re packing up everything you own,” Dylan looked around. “Why now?”
“By tomorrow afternoon, you’ll be back in Seattle and I’ll be…” Eve shrugged. “Who knows? I would have left long ago if not for Daisy. But before I go, I need to clear out my stuff.”
Dylan wished he could think of something to say rather than
, don’t go. Asking her to stay in New Mexico, just so he didn’t lose track of her location, wasn’t logical. Then again, his definition of logic flew out the window the moment he met Eve Stewart.
Forgetting his shoe and his injury, Dylan took the box from Eve. Shocked by the excessive weight, he let out a grunt.
“Toiletries? What the hell kind of stuff do you use on your face?”
“Why don’t we keep a few mysteries between us?” Eve said. “You don’t ask me about my grooming habits, I won’t ask about yours.”
“My habits are an open book. I wash my face with soap and water. Shampoo my hair with a drug store brand. And shave with the same razor I’ve had since college.” When Eve raised a questioning eyebrow, Dylan sighed. “Yes, I change the blades regularly.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I can show you the box,” Dylan told her. “The blades are shiny and new.”
“Whatever with the razor,” Eve said as she wiped the kitchen counters. She set aside the damp cloth and reached for a broom. “Everything about you screams metrosexual. I would bet the products you use on your face alone each month cost more than I paid for my car.”
“A hundred bucks would be too much for that rust mobile.” Dylan took the broom before Eve could sweep the floor. Realizing nothing he could do would stop her, he did the job himself. “What makes you think I use anything special on my face?”
“Your skin is amazing.” Eve took Dylan’s chin between her fingers, turning his head right, then left. “Small pore, not a blemish in sight. And smoother than Daisy’s backside.”
Because he didn’t know when the chance might come again, Dylan took advantage of Eve’s close proximity to gently touch her cheek. The breath caught in her throat but when she didn’t move, his caress lingered.
“Why is your skin so soft?” he asked in a husky whisper.
“I never go to bed without taking off my makeup.”
“You rarely wear makeup,” Dylan pointed out.
“That too.” Eve let out a shaky breath. Her eyes fell to his mouth. “Why do your lips look like pale red pillows?”
The Last Honest Man: A Sports Romance (One Pass Away: A New Season Book 3) Page 9