Before the Rain (13 page)

“Uh-huh. Your book is romance, right?”

“No, it’s a murder mystery.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s obvious she’s falling for the police officer. And who could blame her? He’s so macho and protective yet passionate and oh so caring. Oh my goodness, the scene where he carries her through a thunderstorm. You had me gushing, and then, when they reached the abandoned house, I was fanning myself.” Rachel let out a heavy sigh, and Zoe imagined her swooning. “Looks like you found your Zoe zing. I’m feeling the love and the lust. Go you.”

Zoe listened to the praise, trying to make sense of it all. Did she love Dylan? Or was it simply that he’d helped her find a way back to herself by allowing her freedom to enjoy closeness without the pressures Alex or the others had put on her shoulders?

“I think perhaps your Welshman is serving as quite the inspiration. If I were you, I’d explore him and use this time to finish your book. Trust me, this is your calling. Those pages were so good.”

“I’m not sure.” Tears stung Zoe’s eyes. Had she really found her passion, her talent?

“Just call me tomorrow, let me know what you decided to do.”

They said their goodbyes, and she ended the call.

Now her life was heading in the right direction with a book deal, she should be happy to return, shouldn’t she?

Now all she had to do was to find a way to push Dylan away. This was the part she usually had no trouble with. With Alex, he’d wanted to change her. All she had to do was make it clear she’d be ditsy forever. With James, he hadn’t wanted a family, so she’d talked about babies until he fled. And Terrance. He’d been her first escapee. She’d pulled the biggie—pregnancy. Of course, she wasn’t pregnant, but it had gotten rid of him as fast as could be.

But with Dylan, the only reason she could find not to be with him was distance. She had a feeling that excuse wasn’t going to cut it. Her heart belonged to him now.

What to do?

Her phone buzzed with the arrival of a text message.

Alex:
Come home. We’ll work it out. Missing you.

She slipped the phone into the inside pocket of her nylon yoga sweater and made her way to the kitchen to face her very own Prince Farming.

Dylan had pulled off his thick knit and sprawled it across the back of a kitchen chair. Clad in a shirt clinging to his muscular arms, he filled the french press with boiling water from the kettle then set the lip atop to let the coffee brew. He turned to catch her gaze in his and smiled sheepishly.

“You made coffee?”

He nodded. “Thought I’d make myself useful while you were on the phone planning your escape.”

A sigh escaped her. “That’s not fair.”

“I guess not, but I hoped you’d set roots here. Not for one minute did I think we’d part like this.”

“It had to end sooner or later. I don’t belong here.” She forced a slight smile, shimmied to him, and cradled his hands in hers. “I long to sip sweet tea in the sweltering Georgia summer and can’t wait to get back to the chaos and madness of Atlanta. To eat real burgers, and, gosh darn it, I ache for my comfy southern home complete with the cliché wraparound porch. And I miss lattes so bad.
Dolgellau
is quaint and all with its rich history and wonderful, larger-than-life characters… and you…you are wonderful. But home is home.”

Dropping his gaze, he said, “You’ll be missed around here, and not only by me.”

She peeled from his hold and sat on the rose-printed window seat, and stared beyond the glass to look upon the little slice of British countryside heaven.

“I’m lucky to have gotten to know this wonderful village and your darling family. Mostly, though, I’m lucky to have met you.”

He sat beside her, his thigh pressing against hers. “
Ia
, I’m glad our paths crossed, love.”

Warmth emanating from his body pushed against her and taunted her to snuggle against him, to find comfort in his arms. She battled deep within to find restraint; it’d be cruel to show endearment before leaving. She still needed to leave, didn’t she?

Hell if she knew anymore.

But she did know one thing. Three hard-to-shake ex-fiancés under her belt had taught her false hope is a terrible thing. She couldn’t lead him on.

“Your heart is capable of love, Chantilly.”

“All good things must come to an end,” she said bluntly.

“No, no they don’t. This, us, we are at the beginning of something amazing, Zoe. You have to let me in. Let
Dolgellau
in.”

Winds howled around the wee cottage she’d called home for the last three months and whipped at the pretty blossom tree. Sodden pink petals scattered the ground, and puddles grew in divots. Inside, the wood-burning fireplace crackled, and the warm nutty aromas of a pot of coffee brewing filled the air. Cozy. Like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. She swallowed hard, then voiced in a matter-of-fact tone, “I have to go soon.”

“I can drive you to the airport.” He breathed in for the longest time. Finally, he said, “So we have more time together.”

“I bet the coffee has steeped long enough. It’s been five minutes, at least.” She scooted forward to rise, desperate to escape the awkward subject.

He leaned toward her and brushed her bangs behind her ears, his touch lingering longer than she preferred.

“I want so much to kiss you, Zoe.”

“Is that such a good idea? After today, we won’t see each other again.”

“A parting gift, if you will.”

“A goodbye kiss?” Finally, he was getting the message. “Something to remember you by.”

He moved in closer, his mouth practically but not quite touching hers, perhaps daring her to initiate the kiss. Eyelids closed, and, with a quickening pulse, she risked everything and pressed her mouth on his. Gentle at first, intending only for a parting sentiment. An unbidden sigh escaped her, and she melted into him, the peck becoming something much deeper, much more meaningful. All control was lost, and all desire to resist dissipated. Perhaps he was right after all. Did she love him? Had she let love in for the most inconvenient man? Or was this a simple case of major lust?

“When you kiss me like there’s no tomorrow, how am I to believe we aren’t meant to be?”

She jerked back and stood. Her phone slipped from her pocket and tumbled to the floor.

He bent and retrieved it then reached forward to pass it to her. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Before she could grab it, he pulled it back and set his focus on the screen. “What’s this?” He flipped the phone and read Alex’s message. “You’re going back to him?
Ia
, of course you are. I was just a means to an end, a way to get him back.”

Heat flared in Zoe. “How dare you?”

“I should have known. You told me all along this was just a holiday romance. Damn me for falling for you.”

She debated telling him the truth, that she might love him but was too afraid to open herself to him.

But she stopped herself. After all, it was better this way. Better with him walking away from her.

Easier for her.

Safer for her.

He stood, anger flaring in his gray eyes. “You’re not the person I thought you were.”

“Don’t say such a thing.”

“He’ll never be enough for you. He won’t.”

“Dyl,” she protested, hands shaking, “I don’t know what to say.”

She scurried to the Louis Vuitton suitcase laid out on the dining table and threw in sweaters Betty had knitted for her. The sentiment had touched her. It had been a thoughtful gesture and showed Betty’s kinder side. But then she’d gone all Welsh Dragon on her and….
Ugh.

She sighed.

“Goddamn it, Zoe.” Dylan stormed to her side and slammed the suitcase shut. “You’re the only woman I have ever trusted with my heart since Vanessa. If you had an ounce of decency, of common sense, you wouldn’t run to a man who only wants you when it suits. You’d have me. You’d give us a shot.”

“I’ve a meeting with the New York editor on Monday,” she answered, her voice flat. The damned man with his watery eyes and pout tugged at her heart. “Please, Dyl, don’t make this goodbye harder than it needs to be. We promised to make this an afternoon to remember.”

“Yes, but that was before I knew about Alex. How could you, Zoe? How?” He shook his head.

She let out a long sigh. “Dyl, don’t be angry. We were temporary. Our casual fling is no more.”

“I can’t watch you leave.” He turned to face her. “So I’m leaving first. So long.”

She lowered her gaze and willed herself to stay strong.
No, I don’t love him. I don’t.
She loved his warm nature and his hot body, yes, and she loved the way he put others’ needs before his own and never squashed anyone’s feelings on purpose. Yes, he could be abrasive and broody. Gosh darn it, he was her dream man, but did she love him?

He stood tall. “Goodbye, Zoe.”

He turned the knob and walked out of her life. And, just like that, she’d chased away a man she cared so much about. In his wake, she was left with an ache in her heart.

Her legs wobbled beneath her, and she clutched the nearby table for support. Had she rejected the only man who truly loved her?

The five-hour drive to Heathrow had been tedious. And the airport bustled with travelers. Zoe checked her suitcase in and managed to breeze through a somewhat quiet security line.

First stop was to grab a coffee. Then she scrambled to find her gate.

She nudged past the gathering crowd lurking for boarding calls and stumbled over a duffel bag as she tried to battle her way to the seating area for her flight.

“Hey, watch it,” the bag’s owner barked. He had dreadlocks and wore baggy pants and a “Go Vegan” shirt.

Zoe quirked a polite smile. “Excuse me, I’m just trying to navigate my way to a seat.” She weaved through several other bags scattered on the floor.

Finally, an empty seat
.

“Anyone sitting here?” she asked a young man with his attention solely on his phone.

He shook his head. “Help yourself.”

She parked her ass in the seat and pulled out her tablet to read a book.

An older couple passed by.

“They never have enough seats. How do they expect a plane full of people to fit on these twenty seats?” the elderly lady complained, hooking her arm through the gentleman’s.

“No idea. Are your feet swelling? We’ll find a seat.”

“Please, take mine.” Zoe tucked her device away and rose, shooting a glare at the twenty-something sitting beside her with his attention glued to his phone. Obviously he’d been missing the day they dished out manners.

“Perhaps you could stand for a while, too?” she said to him. “It’s the nice thing to do.”

“Oh, erm, yeah,” he grumbled, sauntered to the window, and sat on the floor with his knees up and his back against the window.

“You’re so kind. Thank you, dear.” The tall gentleman smiled, such warmth in his expression that it lit his eyes and bulged his cheeks. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re from Georgia?”

“Yes, yes I am. And yourselves?”

“From down Dallas way, dear. We’re making a pit stop in Atlanta to see family.”

“How lovely, and how was your stay in Britain?”

“Oh, my stars, all the rain and gray days have aggravated my arthritis something rotten. Damn my old body.” The lady sat and perched her huge purse on her lap.

“And I hear the rain is fixin’ to fall hard in a few hours. Biggest storm this year, they say.”

“Really?”

She slumped. Rain. Now and forever, she’d remember being cradled in Dylan’s arms as they fled across fields, and later combing her fingers through his wet hair as he drove her to climax. Dylan. Yes, she’d remember him very well.

“Well, I’ll be. I hope it doesn’t bother with our flight times.”

The gentleman pointed to the chair beside his wife. “Please, I hate to put a lady out of her seat.”

“I’m fine, sir. Besides, we’ll be sitting for several hours soon, so it’s nice to stand.”

“Well, all right then.” He parked himself and patted his wife’s knee. “We had a marvelous time in London but we sure are glad to be headed back to the States.”

“I am fixin’ to make myself a large pitcher of iced tea right when we land.” the woman said with a twinkle in her eyes.

“I know what you mean, but I’ll miss their scones,” Zoe added.
And their rain. And Dylan’s kisses.

“Oh, dear, you seem sad. Did you have to say goodbye to good friends today?” the woman asked, pity coating her warm smile.

Her husband rubbed her hands then entwined his fingers with hers. “Feeling okay, dear?”

The woman nodded. “Just fine.”

Sweet.

“Dear, you can’t fool me. I’d say you had yourself a spot of holiday romance.”

Zoe threw her arms up in defeat. “You’ve got me, a big ol’ holiday romance with rolls in the hay and kisses in the rain.”

“Uh-oh, dear, it sounds like you didn’t expect to fall in love with him.”

“Love? Oh no, I’m a little sad it’s over, but it’s time to get back to real life.”

“Real life? Oh, dear. Love is life.” The woman gazed into her husband’s kind eyes and smiled, the kind of smile that lights a face with a slight curl of the mouth. “Without love, life is really quite bland.”

“You two seem deeply in love. What’s your secret?”

“To what, dear?”

“To a long-lasting happy marriage?”

“There’s no secret. We love each other.” The man tapped his wife’s hand. “Always will.”

“He gets me, and I get him. We’re like the best of friends who enjoy each other—”

“Who celebrate each other,” he added.

“Indeed.”

Perhaps one day Zoe would have someone finishing her sentences. “Lovely.”

“You’ll find Mr. Right,” the woman said with a smile. “You have to stop searching is all.”

Her husband chuckled. “Dear, you’re not making any sense.”

The woman continued her life lesson on love. “If you’re too focused on what you think you want, what you actually want will pass you by. Love has a way of finding you. You don’t have to go a-looking.”