If We Never Met

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If We Never Met Page 9

by Barbara Freethy


  "Excellent."

  "We're going to walk down to the lake now. It's so pretty at dusk," her mom said. "I made a curried chicken salad earlier. It's in the fridge if you're hungry before I get back."

  "Thanks." She sighed as she locked up the house. It felt like her mom and Mark were on a runaway train. She just hoped that train didn't crash.

  When she returned home, she went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, then closed it again. She wasn't hungry. She was restless. She needed a walk, too, or maybe a bike ride, but it would only be light for another hour.

  As she was debating her options, her phone buzzed. She reached into her bag, noting the missed calls and texts from Lizzie, but the number lighting up her phone was not familiar to her. She almost didn't answer. What if it was the media? Well, she could always hang up.

  "Hello?" she said tentatively.

  "It's Dante."

  Her stomach clenched at his deep, husky male voice. "Hi." Her hand tightened around the phone.

  "Lizzie gave me your number. Have you heard about the photos?"

  "Yes. Hannah stopped by the shop to show them to me."

  "I'm sorry, Keira."

  "It's not your fault."

  "We need to talk about how to handle this."

  "Is there anything to handle? It's done, right?"

  "I'm afraid it could just be the beginning," he replied. "Can you meet me somewhere private, somewhere we won't be seen?"

  She thought about that. The photographer had already been to the inn. And by now, he might know where she lived, too. But she did have one idea… "There's a cabin that my realty company is getting ready to sell. It's not on the market yet, but I have the key. It's on the east shore of the lake. Do you have a car?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay. I'll text you the address and then head over there."

  "I'll see you soon."

  His parting words sent a thrill of anticipation through her. It was stupid. This wasn't a date. They were just going to talk, sort things out, but still, she couldn't help running upstairs to change her clothes and fix her face. It might be the last time they'd see each other, and she was going to look good, give him something to remember. It might be the only satisfaction she would get.

  Before Dante could leave his room, his phone rang. It was Nikki. They'd been missing each other for the past few hours. He had to take the call.

  "Who is she?" Nikki shrieked in anger.

  Dante winced. "It doesn't matter who she is. Nothing is going on. You know how these photos can get twisted. It has happened to you, Nikki."

  "You were smiling at her, and I haven't seen you smile like that in a long time."

  "I literally met her a few minutes before we walked out of that restaurant together."

  "But you saw each other again."

  "She had an appointment at the rehab center. We simply ran into each other."

  "I don't like this, Dante. I don't like it at all. Everyone is texting me. They all want to know if you're cheating on me."

  "I'm not." He felt slightly guilty about kissing Keira, but it hadn't gone any farther than that, and she'd made it clear she didn't want it to go farther.

  "Are you sure you don’t like this woman? Does she know you have a girlfriend?"

  "Yes. Look, I know the photos are upsetting, but the story isn't real. That's all I can say about it. You can believe me or not." His terse tone did not go unnoticed.

  "I don't know why you're pissed. I'm the one who looks like a fool."

  "I'm angry that we even need to have this conversation. I thought I could get away from the press up here."

  "Well, you couldn't, so maybe you should come to LA and rehab here. At least then we'd be together. The only photos would be of the two of us."

  "The therapists I'm working with here are excellent. I need to see this rehab through." He glanced at his watch. "And I need to go."

  "Go where? We have to talk about this."

  "I haven't eaten dinner yet, and it's been a long day. I'm going to get some food. I'll call you later, Nikki."

  "You can't just blow me off, Dante. Is this woman the reason you suggested we take a break?"

  "No. I suggested that because we haven't been on the same page in a while. We've drifted apart, and maybe we need to reevaluate our relationship."

  "We've only drifted apart because of your injury. When you're well, everything will go back to the way it was. Maybe I should come to Whisper Lake."

  "No. That's not a good idea. I'm busy all day with rehab and then I'm exhausted."

  "I don't want us to just give up. We're so good together, Dante. Everyone says we're the perfect couple."

  He had a feeling the everyone she was referring to included mostly her social media followers. She'd worked their relationship to increase her presence online, and it had been successful. But maybe he was being too cynical. "No one else is in this relationship but us. What they think doesn't matter."

  "Of course it matters. What's her name?"

  "Keira," he said tightly.

  "What does she do?"

  "She runs a clothing boutique, but that's not important. Look, I'll call you later."

  "Okay. I…I miss you, Dante."

  Her words felt awkward and untrue, but he didn't know what to say except the obvious. "I miss you, too." He was acutely aware of his lie as he slipped his phone into his pocket. He hadn't missed Nikki at all. She seemed very far removed from his current life, and he was having trouble remembering why they'd even gotten together.

  But he had missed someone the last few days…

  He barely knew Keira, but he couldn't stop thinking about her, and he wanted to see her again, even if it was only to tell her that they needed to stay away from each other, because he didn't want to put her in the middle of his crazy life.

  Nikki understood what it meant to be a celebrity, and she had trouble dealing with a faked-up story. How could Keira possibly handle it, or even want to handle it?

  Not that she would ever have to. He was only in town for a few weeks, but he was here tonight, and that's all he was going to think about for the next few hours.

  He jogged out the door, down the stairs, and through the dining room. Lizzie was in the kitchen. She gave him a smile. "Did you eat dinner, Dante?"

  "No, but I'm going to meet Keira now, so…"

  "That's what I figured." She picked up a shopping bag from the counter and handed it to him. "After you said you wanted to meet with her, I made you dinner to go—for two, just in case."

  "You didn't have to do that."

  "It was no problem. I was making enchiladas for me and Justin, so I just made extra. There's also a salad."

  He was constantly amazed by how thoughtful Lizzie was. "Thanks."

  "My car is in the garage. You have the key. Take the road behind the property, and you should be good."

  Lizzie had been generous enough to offer him her car so that he could leave without being seen. He'd left his rental car conspicuously parked in front of the inn.

  He headed into the adjacent garage and got into the car. On the way off the property, he kept a sharp eye out for the press, but didn't see anyone. As he drove through town, he made enough turns to feel confident he wasn't being followed, and then he headed to the east shore of the lake where the houses were spaced farther apart, and cabins were tucked into forested hills.

  When he got to the address, he parked in the driveway, grabbed the shopping bag, and headed up the steps.

  Keira opened the door as he hit the porch and waved him inside, closing the door behind him. They stared at each other, and he felt like his heart was beating way too fast. Keira's dark eyes were lit up, and her breathing seemed fast.

  He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to take his next breath. But he hadn't come here for that… Had he?

  Chapter Ten

  Dante was going to kiss her, and her lips parted in response. She should say no. She should stop him. But she couldn't seem to move.
He couldn't seem to move, either. The air between them was charged with tension. She could feel the sizzle. But one of them had to make a move. They couldn't just stand there and stare at each other.

  She sucked in a breath and stepped back. "Was the cabin hard for you to find?"

  "What?" Confusion entered his eyes.

  "I know this street can be tricky to find."

  "Oh, no. I didn't have any problem." He cleared his throat. "Lizzie thought we might be hungry. She sent enchiladas and salad. There's a bottle of wine in here, too." He held up the shopping bag in his hand.

  "I can't believe she did all that. I guess you told her you were coming to meet me."

  "Yes, and she offered her car so I could make a clean escape."

  "That was a good idea. I'm glad you were able to leave the inn without anyone realizing it. This all feels a little crazy and surreal to me."

  "I'm sure. It's not your life."

  "No, but it is yours."

  "Unfortunately, yes. It's the least favorite part of my life."

  "It was weird to see myself in a photo with a headline that had nothing to do with the truth," she said.

  "They don't care about the truth. Fiction always makes more money."

  "I guess. Why don't you come into the kitchen? We can open that wine and see what Lizzie packed for us." She led the way down the hall, taking the time to pull her head together. She hadn't expected him to bring dinner, which meant he'd be staying for more than a few minutes. She wanted him to stay, but after the tension that had flared between them, she was also a little worried that keeping him in the friend zone would not be easy.

  As they entered the kitchen, he set the bag on the table, while she pulled out some wine glasses and looked for a bottle opener.

  "You called this a cabin, but it's a lot nicer than that," he commented.

  "The exterior is more cabin-like than the interior. That's the beauty of it. You get the charm of a cabin in the woods with all the modern amenities." She pulled out the opener and took it to the table, along with the glasses.

  "And this place is for sale?"

  "It will be going on the market next month. We're still waiting for a new stove, some lighting fixtures, and a washer and dryer to arrive. The owner is a friend of mine. She and her husband moved to Dallas a couple of weeks ago. They're staying in corporate housing, so they've left all their furniture here until they find a place to buy. In the meantime, I'm taking care of all the little details that need to happen before we list."

  While Dante opened the wine, she unloaded the rest of the shopping bag. There was a delicious-smelling tray of enchiladas, a side of guacamole, and a green salad filled with veggies and tortilla strips. A small container of dressing had also been provided. It was like a picnic date. But she really shouldn't start thinking about it like that. She grabbed plates and utensils and then sat down across from Dante.

  He handed her a glass of wine. "Are you showing this house to Mark Langley?"

  "No. It's too far from the clinic for him. He's interested in one about three blocks from the house I share with my mom. She's very excited about that idea," she added, rolling her eyes.

  He gave her a small smile. "Still on the hunt for dirt?"

  "I haven't had a lot of time to do that, and after I told you about the fire, I lost some of my drive."

  "Why?"

  "Saying it out loud made it seem like I was grasping at straws. I'm not someone who usually jumps to conclusions or makes up conspiracy theories, just so you know."

  "I didn't have that impression."

  "What impression did you have?"

  "That you love your mother and that you can't stop worrying about her just because she's feeling better."

  "You're right. My mom says I have to step back. I have to let her be better. I have to trust that she is. But I have a difficult time with that. She's not a hundred percent, and this man came out of nowhere."

  "Not really nowhere. He has a job history, a personal history. You didn't find any criminal records, did you?"

  "I honestly didn't go that far." She opened the foil covering the enchiladas, pleased to see they were still warm. "We should eat before these get cold."

  "Sounds good to me. I'm starving."

  She filled their plates, then said, "I know we should talk about the pictures. That's why we're here."

  "Let's do that after our meal. I don't want to lose my appetite."

  She was fine with delaying that conversation. "Okay. How has your week been going?"

  "The rehab is more difficult than I imagined, but the clinic is first-rate, and my therapists are very good. I do a variety of exercises to strengthen and increase my range of motion. They also have me working on my total body: walking, running, and swimming."

  "That's interesting. Is that just to keep you in overall good shape?"

  "The therapists have talked a lot about how everything in the body works together and that concentrating on just one area can sometimes put other muscle groups at risk. Of course, the main focus is the shoulder and the arm."

  "Is this the first time in your career you've been injured?"

  "Second time. A line drive fractured my left wrist when I was in college. Luckily, it wasn't my throwing hand, but it took me off the mound for a while."

  "That sounds like a scary moment. Are you ever afraid of getting hit in the face?"

  "I never think about that. I feel confident in my fielding skills." He took a sip of wine. "The shoulder took me by surprise. But it shouldn't have. I think I'd gotten a little lazy in my training. I was letting other things distract me in the off-season. I wasn't in as good of shape as I could have been."

  "You're not easy on yourself, are you?"

  "I don't think anyone is harder on me than I am on myself," he admitted. "I've always been that way. I have high expectations."

  "Do those expectations encompass everyone around you?"

  "No, just me. I don't have a lot of expectations of anyone else. It saves me from feeling disappointment."

  Hearing the edge in his voice, she suspected that quite a few people had disappointed him, but probably no one more than his dad. "Your father let you down a lot, didn't he?"

  "Too many times to count, and it took me a long time to realize that would always be the result. Finally, I stopped caring or expecting anything."

  "Does he let your brothers down as well?"

  "He seems to be closer to Danny now. My oldest brother lives near him, and he talks my dad's language. They watch a lot of football together. As for Micah and Paul, I think they have the same relationship with him as I do. But while my dad wasn't there for us, we were there for each other. Sometimes, we were beating each other up, but when it came to the big stuff, I knew I could count on my brothers."

  "That's nice. I always wished for a sibling. Although, I did get a lot of attention as an only child, and I didn't have to share."

  "Being an only kid does have its perks."

  "True. I also had good friends growing up: Hannah, Chloe, and Gianna. We were very tight."

  "I like Hannah. She's very direct and seems very loyal."

  "As loyal as they come. She's sometimes a little too sarcastic and cynical, but that's just who she is. Gianna and Chloe are great, too. Chloe was married to her high school boyfriend, but they divorced last year, so she's raising their little boy alone. Gianna recently got married to Zach Barrington. He's an architect in town. They're raising his daughter, Hailey."

  "Has everyone been in Whisper Lake their entire lives?"

  "No. Gianna left for a long time. Hannah was gone for several years, as was I. Chloe has pretty much always been here. She manages the Big Sky Café."

  "I stopped in there yesterday to have lunch. They have great food."

  "They do."

  "What about Lizzie?" he asked. "When did you meet her?"

  "A few years ago, when she moved here to open her inn. Her sister Chelsea came shortly thereafter, as well as her brother,
Adam. He's a police detective."

  Dante nodded. "I think Grayson told me that."

  "Lizzie is trying to get her entire family here, and it might happen. She has dogged determination."

  "I have seen examples of that. I don't know how she does all she does, like packing us this very delicious dinner."

  "I think sometimes she must have a clone, or two or three. I could probably use a couple of clones, too."

  "How has your week gone?"

  "It's been busy." She was unwilling to admit how much time she'd wasted thinking about him.

  "And you like to be busy."

  "I do, but maybe not this busy. I'd like to find a happy medium, a good balance."

  "I think balance is overrated."

  She gave him a thoughtful look. "Why do you say that?"

  "Because you can't be all things to all people. Some endeavors require brutal, single-minded focus."

  "Like your job."

  "Yes. I don't know many successful pro athletes who have a million different things going on. They just can't. And that's not a dig at you," he added quickly. "I know I made you angry the other night. I'm not judging you. I'm talking about myself."

  "But you did point that comment at me when I mentioned trying to find a balance."

  "Guilty."

  She ate for a moment, then said, "You told me the other night that you were terrified your career might be over. What would you do if you couldn't pitch?"

  "I don't allow myself to think about it."

  "Never?"

  "Nope. I have one focus, and that's getting back to the mound. It's not balanced. It's all in."

  If he couldn't pitch again, he was headed for a huge fall. "I'm a little scared for you. But I'm also really impressed."

  "Why would you be impressed?"

  "Because your level of commitment is huge."

  "Baseball is all I've ever committed to."

  "You've had tremendous success with it, so your commitment worked."

  "Until my arm decided to go its own way."

  "I really hope you get back to pitching, Dante. I'm rooting for you."

 

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