Designed by Love (5 page)

“We will. Thank you. Be careful heading back.” Traci hesitated a moment as she watched Vivian fold herself into the passenger seat of her nephew's car. Then she stepped from the doorway and turned to Dylan. “That was…odd.”

“She's got a point, though.” Dylan took the bottle of vanilla from Traci and placed it on the table beside the one that sat empty. “We
have
been going at it here for a couple of hours now, and there's not much to be done until the layers cool. Let's go burn off some of the stress.”

“Well, when you put it that way…so romantic…” Traci unlaced the strings of her apron. “How can a girl refuse?”

“She can't.” Dylan reached for her hand. “After all, look at the whole package just waiting along the greenway trail…starlight…the song of cicadas, a gentle breeze whispering through towering Angelina Forest trees…me?”

“Speaking of you....” Traci dug her heels in as he started toward the door. “You're not going to wear that apron walking, are you?”

Dylan glanced down, grimaced. “Oh, man. This is definitely
not
part of the whole package I mentioned.”

“But it looks so…cute on you.”

“Cute?” He unlaced the straps of the bubblegum cupcake, lifted it over his head and tossed it across a chair back. “That settles it. The apron goes—for good.”

“And the rest of the package?”

He offered the slightest bow. “It's all yours for the taking.”

 

****

 

Ahh…pure bliss.

Dylan closed the front door of his cottage and paused without turning on a light to relax against the eight-paneled wood. Traci's front porch light winked off and moonlight streamed through the picture window from the quiet road beyond to cast the room in a milky glow.

Traci…he'd finally, officially, met the elusive woman with the voice of an angel. Who would have imagined he'd so thoroughly enjoy spending time with her—making a cake of all things? The scent of buttercream and vanilla infused with an undertone of femininity that was pure Traci tattooed Dylan's memory. In the course of a single evening she'd unlocked a door that he hadn't even realized was sealed tight.

The door to his heart.

As much as he enjoyed the feeling, Dylan couldn't possibly allow the door to remain open. Too much was at stake…way too much to fall lax concerning who he allowed to enter. Yes, tonight had been a welcome reprieve, yet fingers of caution danced up his spine. He knew the levity of taking such a chance—however tempting it might be—with the weight of war…and of Joe's loss…still heavy on his shoulders.

Life, in this snapshot in time, was just too complicated.

Dylan pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the rectangular dog tags beneath the fabric of his T-shirt. He thought of Joe's wife, Susan, and of the son she'd birthed only weeks before word of Joe's death arrived. Joy had quickly turned to sadness, hope to loss in a torrent of tears.

Dylan's heart fractured as the sound of Susan's sobs echoed through his ears. He wondered what Mr. Hart and his angels would have to say about the hand that had been so ruthlessly dealt his friends. The details of loss and the days and weeks that followed would certainly gouge a notch in the Heart's Haven legend.

Dylan lifted a hand to the wall that separated his cottage from Traci's. That wall was a symbol…a fortress not to be crossed. He'd disregarded the warning lights and regretted his uncharacteristic spontaneity in what amounted to one of the best evenings now carefully catalogued in his memory.

Traci had summed up things herself without even realizing it.

“I think the ‘someone dangerous' is right here in my kitchen.”

Danger was a reality. He'd seen it come to life with his own eyes. A single moment in time had the power to change everything for the good…as well as for the bad.

Caution was Dylan's middle name—a creed he lived by. And he'd be wise to practice caution with his heart…as well as with Traci's. He should have never suggested they ride to the reception together tomorrow. So much time to talk…to get to know her and for her to do the same with him. Then what? Just a quick
“It's been nice knowing you…see you later?”

What had he been thinking?

Worry burned a path through Dylan's gut as he crossed to his laptop and brought up his music library, then switched on the mixer. Headphones sealed out all but the music, washing away memories of a less complicated time and worries of what tomorrow might bring.

But even the music couldn't chase away the lilting hum of Traci's angelic song or the memory of her laughter as they'd walked the greenway along the lush Angelina Forest. Tomorrow, Dylan would spend almost an entire day close to her once again. The thought launched his pulse into a Mach five as his gut executed a two-and-a-half twist.

Dylan wished he shared Old Hart's gift of speaking with the angels. He could sure use their divine wisdom now. But he possessed no such connection so he'd just have to trust that he was traveling along the right path, one that led to contentment and not heartache—especially for Traci.

 

 

 

 

5

 

“Your cake was a hit.” Dylan said as he loaded the last of his equipment into the SUV and closed the hatch. The parking lot behind the church stood nearly vacant. The fellowship hall where the reception had taken place cleared of guests close to an hour ago. It had taken Dylan that long to break down and pack his equipment.

Traci eased in beside him and handed him a bottle of water. The humidity was thick enough to cut with a knife. On the horizon, a storm loomed in the form of a dark and foreboding quilt of clouds. She hoped it would hurry and arrive, bringing relief from the oppressive heat. “To what do I owe this honor?”

“Excuse me?” Dylan loosened the tie at his neck and unclasped the top button of his dress shirt. His eyes held more gray than blue today…a reflection of the brewing storm.

“Why the sudden conversation?” Traci leaned against the SUV's bumper. The sun played a losing game of hide and seek as the breeze shifted, carrying with it the sweet scent of rain. “You haven't said a dozen words to me all day. Why the stoic mood? Did I miss something…say something to offend you? If I did, I'm sorry.”

“No, it's nothing like that. I guess I've been sort of a jerk.”

“Sort of?” She rolled her eyes. “That doesn't quite cut it. Try again.”

“OK, I've behaved like a bona fide stick-in-the-mud. I should be tarred and feathered and dragged through this parking lot by my toes.”

“That's better.” A smile tickled Traci's lips, and the annoyance that had tugged at her throughout most of the afternoon fled. “Care to explain why?”

“It's just…I've been doing some thinking.” Dylan rested against the bumper beside her and pressed a hand to his chest. Traci knew he felt the dog tags nestled there. Was that the missing piece of the puzzle? Did they have something to do with him keeping his distance today?

She decided to prod a bit more. Better to get things out in the open than let them fester. “And does thinking always put you in a bad mood?”

“I'm not in a bad mood.” Dylan released the tags to splay his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “It's going to sound crazy and cliché, but…I don't want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Traci draped a hand over his forearm as she leaned in. “And how, exactly, do you think you're going to hurt me?”

He lifted his smoky gray eyes to capture hers. His voice was a little gruff, yet matter-of-fact. “By making you fall in love with me.”

Traci's hand stilled along his forearm as the words registered. When she gathered a reply she spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable. “You think
I'm
going to fall in love with
you
?”

A slight nod cemented the feeling. “There's a strong possibility.”

“Wow.” Traci lifted her gaze to the churning heavens as she pursed her lips and released a long, high-pitched whistle. “Maybe you should lay off the heavy thinking.”

“I'm serious. The legend—”

“Wait.” She lifted a hand traffic-cop style. “You don't buy into that story, do you?”

“I don't want to, but just take a look at the evidence…Ryne and Kaci, Susanna and Gabe, Zack and Zoe and now even Lexi and Mitch. And don't forget Jodie and Kevin. The list goes on, and we're soldiers on the battlefield.”

Traci rolled her eyes. “Love isn't a battlefield, Dylan.”

“That's what the song says…you know the one I mean…”

“Yes, I've heard it. But it's only a song. If we believed the words of every song we'd be mired in an ongoing constraint of contradiction. That's one of the reasons I admire Vivaldi…no words, just the sweet strains of a melody. You should try the more peaceful side of the fence sometime.”

“Good point.” He leaned toward her, his gaze remaining tagged to hers. “But I still feel there's a danger—”

“A
danger
? Do you possess a talent for mind-melding?”

“No, but—”

“Don't flatter yourself, Dylan.” Traci pushed off the bumper and paced the length of the adjoining parking space as the breeze kicked up, tossing her hair like a tumble weed. The air cooled perspiration that dampened her blouse along the small of her back as the hem of her skirt danced around her knees. “What makes you think that
you
won't fall in love with
me
instead?”

“Because I've got tactical training experience. I know how to dodge and deflect incoming missiles.”

“That's right.” Traci laughed softly as she closed the distance between them to press a palm to his cheek. The scruff of a five-o'clock shadow reminded her just how hard they'd both worked over the past twenty-four hours. “I think you're overheated, Dylan, as well as sleep deprived. You may have a fever. You should go home and rest.”

“OK.” He took her hand, twined his fingers with hers. “You've made your point, and I've managed, in the course of an afternoon, to make a complete fool of myself. That has to be a record of some sort. So, can we just put an end to this line of conversation? Will you allow me a do-over, please?”

“A do-over sounds good. Yes, that works for me. We'll move on to take two.” Traci was aware of his fingers laced together with hers. It was as if his touch zinged straight to her pulse. Her heart did an odd little two-step as his gaze slipped over her. He leaned close, his breath warm on her cheek.

“Thanks.”

The wind shifted once more as it sang a lilting melody. Maybe there was something to the Heart's Haven superstition. Perhaps the angels really were at work…

No. Traci removed her hand from Dylan's and folded her arms tight across her chest. Now the humidity caused her thoughts to play games. She shook her head slightly to clear it as she continued. “I noticed your playlist was as much of a hit as the cake.”

“I agree it was a toss-up as to what appealed more to the crowd.”

“Yes, that was some reception. The music you chose really did seem to be a good fit.” Traci put a measure of distance between them as she crossed to the SUV's passenger side. She rolled her shoulders to alleviate an ache that was beginning to set in. Extra work reconstructing the cake the night before, coupled with the oppressive heat, had taken its toll and this banter with Dylan worked to give her the energy of a limp dishrag. “Who would have thought?”

“I'd say I told you so, but I won't.”

“Thank you for that.”

“But, since this is a do-over and you assert there's absolutely no truth to the legend of Heart's Haven, I'd like to ask you a question that I've been hanging onto since we arrived here today.”

“And what would that be?” Traci's heart hammered against her ribcage. What could he possibly want?

“Give me a minute here.” Dylan opened the driver-side door, slipped the key into the SUV's ignition and turned it a single click. Music, tuned to the country station they'd agreed on that afternoon, whispered over the air. When Dylan straightened, the warmth in his gaze nearly stole Traci's breath. Adrenaline suddenly pumped through her veins, chasing away the fatigue.

He looked so handsome in the dress slacks and cobalt button-down that brought out the blue of his eyes. Again, she felt the familiar soft shift inside her, as if her heart faltered for the slightest moment and then caught up with itself. Dylan rounded the car to her as he murmured, “Will you dance with me?”

“It won't work, Dylan.” She swallowed hard, suddenly shivering despite the heat. “I'm not going to fall in love with you. Even if I found myself liking
you
, I certainly couldn't tolerate your
music
. That would put a damper on anything serious.”

“I thought you had a word for that—headphones. I happened to find a pair last night, packed in one of the boxes. I forgot I had them, but you reminded me. Now, let's—”

“We can't dance here, in the parking lot.” Traci turned on one heel as she cupped a single hand, palm up, to catch a pair of raindrops. Heat lightning flashed and thunder rolled through the trees. “The storm's bearing down.”

“In more ways than one.” Dylan closed the distance between them and gathered her in. “Live a little dangerously, Traci. You heard what Vivian said yesterday…we're only young once and time is fleeting. I know firsthand how precious life is, how fleeting opportunity can be. And this day, it's…”

“I hear you loud and clear.” Traci pressed her cheek to his shoulder and allowed him to lead as the music washed over them in time to the gentle patter of rain. “It's sad about Mr. Hart…his untimely death. He was loved by so many.” Just the thought of losing him brought a tug of sadness to Traci's heart. “He and Miss Vivian were only married a year or so. They should have had more time. They
deserved
more time.”