Fall to Pieces (21 page)

He held up a hand. "No, really, if you're
there it will distract my mom from hovering over me, worrying that
I'm working too hard and putting too much stress on my leg."

"Are you?" Sadie said. She felt a flash of
guilt over the fact that with all of her focus on the ranch, she
hadn't stopped to think that the physical nature of the work might
be too much on Dylan's recovering body. "You seem so strong,
sometimes I forget the only reason you're even here is because you
were so badly hurt."

He gave her an exasperated look. "If anything
it's good for me. Working out and PT has gotten me back in shape,
but in my line of work most of the physical strain isn't going to
come from any kind of structured exercise. Besides," he said,
pulling her close once more, "you of all people should know just
how physically capable I am."

Her cheeks warmed as he pressed his lips to
hers. She gave herself up to it, and for a brief moment all of the
stress drifted away.

He lifted his head. "Let me get a quick
shower and then we'll go."

"Okay if I hang out here?" She reluctantly
let him go. "I'm afraid if I go to the house I'm liable to punch
someone."

"Make yourself at home."

As he retreated down the hall, Sadie stepped
into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As she passed the dining
table she saw his closed laptop sitting on top. The last few nights
she'd woken up alone, and walked out into the front room to find
him typing away. At first she'd assumed he'd been writing emails,
but the way he quickly closed it as soon as he realized she was
there made her curious.

But when she'd asked what he was working on
he'd answered, "nothing” a little too quickly, and did nothing to
allay her curiosity.

Maybe he's going to online sex chat
rooms!
an evil voice warned her as she filled a glass from the
sink.
You should check out his browsing history.

She immediately dismissed the idea as both
stupid and immature. Besides, the intense expression she'd glimpsed
on his face before he noticed her indicated much more serious
subject matter.

Subject matter he clearly didn't want to
discuss with her. Which of course made her want to know that much
more.

Before she could give into the ill-advised
urge to snoop, Dylan's heavy footsteps sounded down the
hallway.

Dressed in cargo shorts and an army t-shirt
from his seemingly endless supply, his thick damp hair brushed back
from his forehead, he looked so delicious he almost made her forget
about today's calamitous news.

She drained the glass, left it on the
counter, and let him lead her by the hand out to his truck.

Lost in her thoughts, Sadie stared blindly
out the window as they made the ten minute drive to the Deckers’
house, located just a few blocks from the center of town. The small
craftsman house looked exactly the same as it had the last time
she'd visited in high school, the patch of lawn in front small but
tidy, bordered by colorful azaleas.

The cheery yellow paint and white window
trimming looked like it had been freshened recently, and the
concrete front steps were swept clean of any dirt or leaves. In the
back, at end of the narrow driveway was the equally well-kept
detached garage. For years Dylan's father had run his auto repair
business right there on the premises, but a couple of years ago
he'd relocated to a bigger commercial space off of Highway 191.

Dylan held the front door open for her and
she stepped into a space that wasn't a whole lot bigger than the
cabin where he was currently staying. Dylan's mom, Vivian, was
working at the kitchen sink.

She smiled with delight when she saw them,
turned off the faucet, and quickly dried her hands. Arms wide, she
walked over to her son and grabbed him in a fierce hug. "I've
missed you," she said, going up on tiptoes to give his cheek a
smacking kiss.

"What's it been, barely a week?"

"That's a long time when I was used to seeing
you every day."

Dylan shook his head, but a smile teased the
corners of his mouth.

She turned to Sadie and treated her to the
same warm greeting she'd given Dylan. Sadie returned her hug
enthusiastically.

She'd always liked Vivian. She always greeted
Sadie with a big smile and a plate of something delicious on the
rare occasions she came to Dylan's house to help him study instead
of going to her house or the library.

"You have the figure to carry it," she used
to say to Sadie, as she piled yet another cookie or slice of banana
bread on her plate, so sincerely Sadie almost believed she didn't
notice her too skinny body with elbows and knees poking out in
sharp points. On the days Sadie beat Dylan to the house, Vivian
would ask her all about school, her friends, and even offered a
sympathetic ear when Sadie's parents split up and her mother moved
to Arizona.

"I know things are rough now," she'd said,
"but you're a strong, smart girl and you'll get through it."

As a strong, smart woman who had overcome her
own tragic past, Vivian, Sadie knew, spoke from authority.

"I was so happy when Dylan told me you'd be
joining us tonight," Vivian said, darting a speculative look
between them. "I can't remember the last time Dylan invited a
guest
to dinner."

Dylan cleared his throat, and color slashed
across his sharp cheekbones.

"I had a really hard day at the ranch, and
Dylan was nice enough offer dinner with you all up as a
distraction." Sadie said quickly.

"Sounds like you could use some adult
refreshment," Vivian said and darted around the formica-topped
island that separated the kitchen from the living room. "I"m having
wine," she gestured to a glass of pale gold liquid resting on the
counter next to the sink, "but we have just about anything you
might want." She opened a cabinet next to the refrigerator that
appeared to hold every variety of alcohol known to man.

Sadie settled on a vodka tonic while Dylan
helped himself to a beer from the refrigerator.

"Sorry to hear you had a rough day." Vivian
said as she plunked ice in a tumbler. "I hope it's not because your
father has taken a turn for the worse."

"Thankfully, no," Sadie said as she reached
out to accept the drink, her stomach clenching as the reality of
Molly's discovery once again intruded. "His health is improving by
the day. But unfortunately he let some things slip through the
cracks business wise, and I've got a bit of a mess to clean
up."

A big hand settled on her shoulder and gave
it a gentle squeeze. She looked up to meet Dylan's warm,
sympathetic gaze, and felt her anxiety ebb.

We're going to get through this.

"Well, cheers," Vivian said and lifted her
glass of wine to clink it first against Sadie's glass, then Dylan's
beer bottle. "To taking some time to relax even when times get
tough."

"I just can't get over it," she said after
she took a sip of her wine, "how beautiful you are. Can you believe
it, Dylan?"

Now it was Sadie's turn to blush.

"I'd say Sadie would definitely get the most
improved award at the next high school reunion," Dylan said with a
grin.

"And you were always chasing after all those
silly cheerleaders, when you had an actual supermodel sitting right
here under your nose."

"Doing catalog work in Denver hardly
qualifies me as a supermodel," Sadie protested, thankful when
Dylan's dad, Frank, chose that moment to enter through the patio
door.

"Charcoal is ready," he said, then turned to
Dylan to give him a quick, back slapping hug. He greeted Sadie with
a firm handshake and asked after her father.

"He's improving every day, but it will be a
while before he can get back to his regular routine."

"Good thing Dylan's there to help out then,"
he said, darting a look at his son she couldn't quite decipher.

But the way Dylan's shoulders stiffened told
her there was something simmering between those two.

"He's been invaluable."

"What's on the menu?" Dylan asked his
mother.

"Too darn hot to turn on the oven, so I
decided to grill some steaks." She picked up a covered dish from
the counter, and handed it to Frank. "Why don't you go help your
father while Sadie helps me finish up in here," she said and waved
the two men toward the patio door.

"What do you need me to do?" she said as
Dylan followed his father out. "I have to confess, my kitchen
skills don't go much further than microwaving a frozen dinner."

"I'm sure someone as bright as you can find
your way around dressing a salad," Vivian said with a little laugh,
and handed Sadie a bottle of Italian dressing.

"So seems like you and Dylan certainly have
gotten close," she said after a few moments.

"We've always been friends," Sadie replied,
concentrating on not sending a shower of salad greens onto the
floor.

Vivian made a non-committal sound. "I've
never known Dylan to have many women
friends,
" she said, as
she reached for a loaf of crusty bread and started to slice it.
"Not to say he's ever lacked for female company," she said with a
rueful shake of her head. "Of all of my boys, he was the worst.
Girls calling him at all hours, tapping on his window at night
trying to convince him to sneak out."

"I doubt he needed too much convincing,"
Sadie said as her fingers clenched around the wooden salad spoons,
wondering where Vivian was going with this. Did she think Sadie
needed to be reminded of Dylan's deserved reputation as a player?
Did she think Sadie needed a warning?

"No, he sure didn't." Vivian chuckled. "Lord
knows he sowed his wild oats. Hopefully it's finally out of his
system. I know his career doesn't lend itself well to marriage, but
I'd love nothing more than to see him settle down with a woman who
can make him as happy out of bed as in it."

Sadie dropped her gaze to the floor, unable
to meet Vivian’s wide, expectant smile as she tried to stifle all
of the silly, school girl dreams Dylan's mother's words conjured.
Dreams she'd forced into lockdown from the moment Dylan's lips
first touched hers. Because she knew if she didn't keep a lid on
them, it would be too easy to get carried away, to forget that what
she and Dylan had was just a temporary bit of "fun", and to let
herself hope otherwise would only lead to heartbreak.

###

"Better flip those," Dylan said lightly.

His dad shot him a glare over his shoulder as
he stood at the grill, feet braced and his shoulders squared as
though he was guarding the grilling steaks from extreme bodily
harm. "If I followed your advice the damn things would be mooing up
from the plate."

"The way you cook it, I might as well rip the
sole off of my boot and eat that."

It was an old family joke, ribbing their dad
in his attempts to take poor, unsuspecting pieces of protein and
turn them into charcoal. It felt good after the tension that had
fueled their conversation the last time they'd talked.

"Please, if not for my sake, for Sadie's pull
one of those off before you leach every bit of pink from it."

His dad grumbled under his breath but lifted
two of the steaks onto a plate Dylan retrieved from the picnic
table.

"So you know how she likes her steak," Frank
said idly. "What else have you learned about Sadie since you've
been living out at the ranch?"

A whole lot of things he wasn't about to
share with anyone, especially not his dad. "She's about the hardest
worker I've ever seen," Dylan said and drained the last of his
beer.

"Smart, beautiful, and hard working? Can't go
wrong with that."

"And I'm sure someday she'll make some man
extremely happy," Dylan deadpanned.

His dad stared at him for a moment, then
shrugged and turned back to the grill. "You don't have to kiss and
tell. I'm sure your mom will fill me in later."

Dylan cast a nervous glance toward the
kitchen, as he was afraid his father was right, that at this very
moment his mom was grilling Sadie for information as aggressively
as his dad was grilling those steaks.

Not for the first time he questioned his
decision to bring Sadie with him tonight. Not that he didn't want
her here—in fact, he was surprising himself lately with how much he
craved her company. And not that it would be a disaster if his
parents knew they were involved.

But ever since Deck and Jane had their baby
and Damon and Ellie made up, got engaged and were talking about
giving Ellie's son, Nicholas, a sibling, his mom had turned her
sights firmly on Dylan when it came to settling down and starting a
family.

He'd rather take on a legion of Taliban
troops solo than have to explain to his mother that there was
nothing close to settling down on his horizon, and that he and
Sadie were nothing more than fuck buddies.

At that moment, his mom and Sadie stepped out
onto the patio. Even though he hadn't said it aloud, he felt a pang
of guilt for putting what he had with Sadie in that category. It
seemed too crass, too disrespectful a way to think about someone he
genuinely liked and admired.

And lusted after,
he couldn't help
thinking as he watched her set the big wooden bowl of salad on the
table, his gaze snagging on the slim, prefect curve of her ass
showcased by jeans that fit her like a glove.

"This all looks delicious," Sadie said as
they settled around the table.

"You'll want to thank me for rescuing a steak
for you. Dad was bound and determined to turn it into a hockey
puck."

"Whatever he did, it's cooked perfectly," she
said as she sliced into the meat.

"I'm so glad to see your modeling days didn't
turn you into one of those girls who doesn't eat," his mom said as
she scooped a pile of salad onto Sadie's plate. She then proceeded
to exclaim over the amount of chocolate chip cookies Sadie used to
be able to put away.