by TC Matson
“What’s the point? She’ll be leaving soon.”
“Looks like she’s dragging her feet to me.”
Running a hand over my chin, I scratch my jaw. “What if I’m not enough? What if after all the effort, she still leaves? Then what? I’ll be heartbroken all over again. I won’t go through it a second time. I can’t.”
“But what if you are enough? What if you can keep her here? How will you know if you don’t try? Forget all the old memories and create new ones. You still love her, whether you’re man enough to admit it out loud or not. Let go of all the years of pain and revive the love between you two. Show her the man you’ve become.” She stands, smoothing down her plum-colored blouse, and then flicks her warm, motherly gaze to mine. “That’s my two cents. I won’t interfere. Won’t speak of this again unless you come to me, but I promise you one thing, Blake. You let that woman leave town without so much as trying to convince her otherwise, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life… just like you do for not proposing to her.”
After giving her a hug and kiss and then shutting the door, I stand in the silence, staring at where she was just sitting. Ma’s advice has always been solid, always straightforward, and always from the heart. She saw the mess I was after Dakota left. The anguish. The pain. The destruction. When I crumpled, Ma lifted me. When I broke, Ma put me back together with a warm smile and warm cookies.
This time, though, I don’t think her advice hits the nail on the head. I think over time she’s forgotten how hurt I was. I know if I try again, if I let my walls down and fall back in love with Dakota, this time, I won’t make it out in one piece. It’s been eleven years, and I’m still devastated.
Chapter Twenty
Blake
Ma’s words from when she cornered me days ago have been on my mind constantly. Add that to the heart-to-heart Dakota and I had on my back porch after the bonfire, and my head space isn’t a pretty place to be. I’ve put distance between me and everyone—even Hadley because I don’t want to be around Rhett.
That asshole. I leaned into him hard for not warning me about Ma coming. He laughed in my face and said it was my turn—whatever the hell that means.
I’ve spent my days in the field and home alone, chewing over my thoughts and trying to get my shit back right. Ma was right. I still love Dakota. I may not admit that out loud, but I know in my heart where she stands. The fear of another annihilating heartbreak stops me from pursing anything further. Dakota is and will always be worth the chase, but I can’t just throw my sanity in the wind on a whim.
After grabbing some supplies from Johnson’s, I’m about to pull out of the parking lot when I spot a familiar BMW sitting in front of her grandmother’s store.
“What if you are enough?” Ma’s words come screaming at me. “Let go of the past. Show her the man you’ve become.”
Eleven years. That’s how long I had to turn the love I had for her into hate. Yeah, I wonder what life would have been had she stayed. Would we be married with kids? Would she be doing what she loves? I regretted so strongly, so damn deeply that I never proposed to her, and it ate me up from the inside out. I ended up hating myself. I could’ve changed the outcome, but instead I drowned in the ocean of “what-ifs.”
So now that she’s here in front of me, why the hell am I standing on the sidelines watching as life just passes by, watching as the clock ticks away the time I could be trying to convince her that my heart is still hers. That she’s always had it.
She always told me I like to fight dirty. Guess it’s time to man the fuck up and show her exactly how dirty I’m willing to fight for her, how I should have fought for her.
Fuck my sanity.
Whipping my truck into a parking spot, I stride into the store, my heart pounding. The bell over the door rings, announcing a new customer and my eyes instantly fall on Dakota. She and Delaney are at the end of the counter, all smiles as they talk.
“Hey, Blake,” Delaney greets me, a little uncertain.
“Hey, Del,” I say, but my gaze is anchored to Dakota’s. Catching the tips of her fingers, I give them a quick playful tug, flashing a smile that pulls out my dimples. “I need you to be at my house tonight at six.”
“Oh, no,” she laughs, shaking her head back and forth. “You’re not suckering me into working again.”
Licking my lips, I place my mouth next to her ear. “Please,” I plea, low and gravelly. A shiver slithers up her spine, causing her breath to hitch. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.” Straightening back up and now wearing a cocky grin thanks to the way Dakota looks affected, I say, “See you at six.” Delaney’s all wide-eyed too. “See ya around, Del.”
With newfound purpose and I’m sure a shit ton of stupidity, I stride out of the store and go back to work, scheming a master plan for the evening.
When Dakota pulls down my driveway, I’m already standing outside by my truck, dressed up in my good jeans, a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows, and my dress boots.
Hesitantly, she steps out of her car, her gaze sliding over me, taking it in. Her gray sweater falls off one shoulder and her hair is pulled back into one of those messy, yet sexy ponytails. Rips—the sexy kind—are scattered down her jeans and when I spot her boots, my smile turns into a full-on grin.
God, she’s so damn pretty.
Pushing off my truck, I make my way to her and tug her fingertips again. “You hungry?”
A brow quirks high. “Are we slaughtering a cow because, you know, I’ll puke the second you slice into it.”
I chuckle. “Not slaughtering. I’m cooking one.”
She jerks her head back, mouth falling open. “You’re cooking? Last I remember you could burn macaroni and cheese.”
“That was the kid version of me.” I grasp her hand and pull her to follow. “I’ve grown up a lot.”
I lead her around back where a small fire burns in the pit. Not far from it, a small round table is draped with a white cloth I borrowed from Ma.
“What is all this?” she asks, sounding apprehensive. Wind-stirred waves of uncertainty ripple in the depths of her tawny brown eyes.
“This,” I say, letting go of her hand to pull out her chair, “is a thank you for all your hard work.”
Asking her on a date was out of the question. I know she’d shut me down quicker than I could snap my fingers. Figured this would be safer.
Reaching into the cooler, I grab a beer, pop the top and hand it to her. “Be right back.”
In the house, I grab the food I’ve kept warm in the oven and throw everything onto our plates before going back out. When I place a plate with steak, garlic buttered mushrooms, mashed potatoes, and sliced cucumber—because I burned the hell out of the broccoli—down in front of her, her eyes nearly bulge out of her head.
“Wait. You cooked this?” She points.
Taking the seat across from her, I tip my beer. “I did.”
“Wow. It looks… edible.”
“You still love garlic buttered mushrooms?” I ask, fingers crossed under the table that her tastes buds haven’t changed.
She beams. “Love them.”
“Bon appétit.”
Watching her eat is like watching the most erotic porno ever. Her full lips wrap around the fork, her eyes roll slightly before closing all the way, her moans… she fucking moans… are long and unrestrained and holy shit, do they travel the length of my dick.
“You look beautiful tonight,” I say, trying to keep my voice leveled and not show her how turned on she’s made me. What type of man gets hard by watching a woman eat?
A blush rises to her cheeks, blossoming across her face and she drops her head. “Thank you.” Even her voice is full of color.
“Dakota Jayne, are you blushing?” I crack up.
“Shut up,” she quips, slightly looking up to murder me with a playful glare.
“Think the last time I saw you blush was when I carried you onto the field after we won the championship
.”
“Yeah, because you kissed me like a starved man in front of the entire town.”
The memories come rushing back and I burst out laughing remembering how beet red she was from the tips of her ears all the way down to under her uniform. I shake my head. “I was ecstatic. Can’t fault me for wanting to celebrate our win with you.”
“I could’ve murdered you for that.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t. If I recall correctly, if you had, you wouldn’t have gotten that massive banana split.”
“God, that thing was delicious.”
“I’d say. You finished it off.”
“Did not,” she says, her voice rising a playful octave. “You ate the majority of it.”
I bounce my head from shoulder to shoulder. “Three bites max.”
“Uh huh.” Her lips twist up into a grin. “You still have that trophy?”
“Ma does somewhere.”
The rest of the evening goes just like that. Old memories, flirty comments, and a lot about her work. I’ve come to realize I love the way she lights up when she discusses her job, just like she did when she’d dream of becoming an interior designer.
When I was planning tonight, I decided I’d take it slowly and not rush into the temptations to touch her, so as I walk her back to the car, I pop open the door without a kiss and only a smile.
“Thank you for dinner,” she says.
I’m dying inside, desperate to taste her, to reach out and just fucking touch her. “You’re welcome. I hope you enjoyed it.”
Her top teeth sink into her bottom lip and I almost groan out loud from the pain it’s causing me inside. “Goodnight, Blake.”
“Night, Kota.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Dakota
Whatever the hell is going on with Blake and his newfound flirtatious ways has my head spinning. The small gestures, the way he looks at me, the playfulness… It’s causing a hell of a lot of chaotic ruckus between my heart and mind. For years I’ve hated him and now? Now, I can’t get him off my mind. He’s the last thing I think about before I fall asleep and the first thing that’s on my mind when I wake up. Now when I see him, my traitorous heart flutters with excitement instead of dread.
“Hey,” Momma says, walking into my room to find me sitting in front of the mirror finishing my makeup.
She sits on the edge of the bed, eyes on me through the mirror. “You don’t need that mess. You’re beautiful without it.”
“I don’t wear much,” I say. “Just enough to cover up my flaws.”
“The only flaws are the ones you’ve made up in your head. I’m going into town to pick up a few things. Your father woke up with the hankering for fish for dinner. Would you like to come with me and have lunch?”
“I’d love to,” I chirp, unable to fight off the grin splitting my face. “Let me finish getting ready.” Grabbing a pair of socks, I slip into the boots Blake bought me. I shouldn’t love them as much as I do, but I can’t help it. After I left all those years ago, I threw away every boot I had because they all reminded me of him.
* * *
We decided on the deli downtown. Momma used to bring me here for our monthly mother-daughter date, which turned into a twice-a-month thing. Delaney’s favorite place is the diner down the street. They’ve got the best Salisbury steak in the world. We always preferred our special places to be different.
Momma snags us a table by the window just as Piper approaches us. “Hey, Mary. Dakota. I’m glad to see you!” She leans in giving me a quick one-armed hug. She’s younger than me by a few years, but a small town means we’ve hung out a time or two. “Rumors are you’re moving back?”
Ah, the rumors of a small town… “I’m not moving back, but I’m spending quality time with my momma while I’m here.”
“Heard there was someone special keeping you here,” she singsongs, waggling her eyebrows.
“You know how the rumors are in this town. Don’t go believing them.”
Dropping it, we place our orders and Piper leaves, coming back moments later with our drinks.
This place hasn’t changed a bit. It still has the fifties feel. Old characters of ketchup, mustard, and pickles are painted against seafoam green walls, wooden tables with red chairs, a black-and-white checkered floor with scuffs from the wear and tear over the years, and the chalkboard menu still hangs over the register.
“This place hasn’t changed one bit.”
“Nothing but the awning outside,” Momma says. “They still have that stitched sign in the bathroom that says ‘Please Seat Yourself.’”
I titter at the thought. “Didn’t Granny make that?”
“She was so proud of that stupid little sign.” Momma laughs. “That woman was eccentric as all get out.”
“She did have some wild tastes for things,” I say and then go into detail about all the salt and pepper shakers I found. However, Momma beats my story with the carved wooden spoons she found in the attic.
Piper sets our food on the table and immediately the ham and salami sandwich causes memories to flood me and bring a smile. “I haven’t had one of these since the last time you brought me here.”
The light in her eyes sparkles. “Then enjoy it, baby.”
Baby. She’s always called me that and I’ve never minded it. Even as a teenager when your parents are supposed to be uncool, it still never bothered me. I wear the title proudly. I am the baby. Delaney used to pick on me, mocking our parents behind their backs. “Baby, this, and baby, that” she used to say with a roll of her eyes. She’d get in trouble if I did something because “she should’ve been watching her sister” and I’d straighten my halo with a devilish grin.
We eat in silence for a few minutes before I ask, “Are you doing okay?” Momma looks up from her sandwich. “I know you’re strong and you’d rather catch a rattle than talk about feelings, but are you really doing okay?”
She takes a second to wipe her mouth and then takes a sip of her sweet tea before she answers. “I’m okay. I didn’t expect her to be gone so suddenly, but I knew she was getting older and I knew my time with her was dwindling down. She knew it too. I believe that’s why she went ahead and got her affairs in order several years ago. And Delaney might run the store, but Granny left it to both of you.”
I shake my head. “That’s Delaney’s baby. I need to give her my part of it. She deserves it more.”
“Our pastor has called a few times, Charlotte keeps me company often, and your dad is my rock. How about you? You’re just as mule-headed as me.”
“I’m okay, too. I feel guilty for not coming around over the years, but I’m glad I got to talk to her as often as I did.”
Her lips turn up into a sad smile. “She understood, Dakota.”
I nod but don’t say anything.
“You know. When your friend Ryan passed away, you were reserved about it too. Your dad said you get it from me, the compartmentalizing.”
“I call it strength.”
“Your dad calls it stubborn hearted,” she snickers and then sobers up. “We worried about you after his death. You shut us out and when we called, we could hear the fakeness in your voice. It was the same way after you left. Richard had to talk me out of coming out there.”
“I was fine, Momma.”
“This mother wanted to see for herself. I hated you being out there all alone. When you met Ryan, I couldn’t have been happier, but then after his death, I worried myself sick.”
Suddenly, I spot Blake across the street, walking along the sidewalk. There’s no chance in hell any woman with two working eyes could miss his sexy swagger. His broad shoulders. The sharpness of his jaw. That muscular body.
Just before he enters the bakery, I watch as he takes off his ballcap and runs a hand through his disheveled hair.
“She left us a lot of money. I’d like to split it with you and Delaney.”
Instantly, I’m shaking my head. “I don’t deserve a penny of it. I want you to keep
it. Take my share and you and dad go on a vacation somewhere you’ve always wanted to go.”
“Dak—”
“Fine. I’ll donate my part to my parents. Consider it payback for putting me through college.”
A raspy laugh echoes around us. “Baby. That’s what parents are for. To help take care of their children. We didn’t mind at all.”
“Good. Now use my share for vacations or weekly massages or whatever you’d like until the money runs out.”
“I’ll be an old woman if I…”
Her words disappear, becoming nothing but noise in the background as Blake reemerges from the bakery, carrying a slender pink box that I know is full of heavenly delicious cupcakes. Anything from Nancy’s is mouthwatering. Just as he slips his hat back on his head and is a few steps down the sidewalk, I spot Ally approaching him. He unleashes his sexy smirk, the one that can melt the panties off any woman, and it causes jealousy to raise my hackles and sear my spine. I know I shouldn’t feel this way. He’s not mine, not anymore, but I can’t help it. Over the years, I’ve tried to never allow myself to dwell on him being with anyone else, but sometimes the thought of him being married would creep in and burn me up.
Blake keeps the box in front of him, but takes a cautious step backward, placing more distance between them. She talks for a few seconds and when he shakes his head, her mouth pops open. Even from across the street, I can see the vexation morphing her features. She says something else, her hands animated. Blake responds, shakes his head again, and steps around her, leaving. She throws her arms in the air and then they fall to her side, her shoulders slumping slightly. Looking utterly confused, she watches him walk away before she turns and rushes off in the opposite direction.