Goodbyes and Second Chances (The Bleu Series Book 1) (18 page)

“Tell me
something,” I say.

“Like what?” he
asks around a mouthful of pasta.

“I want to know
something about your adventure. Something epic.”

Dillon wipes the
corners of his mouth and takes a long swig of his tea. He seems to be deciding
what to share with me when a grin sneaks along his face. It makes me impatient.

“Tell me
something,” I say again. I nudge his leg with mine under the table.

“I met this guy
named Eddie, last year,” he says nonchalantly and takes another bite of his
food.

I drop my fork.
“No way!” I gasp.

“Yes way.”

“Please tell me
he is as cool as I’ve always imagined.”

“Nope. More than
cool. The dude is
epic
.” He smiles as
he uses my word. Well, I wanted him to tell me something epic, and he sure
didn’t disappoint. “We hung out after the Music Awards last year. The next
thing I know, we were on a plane heading to Hawaii. We spent a week out there
with him teaching me how to surf.” He grabs a piece of freshly baked bread and
works on sopping up the thick, red sauce with it.

“No!” I gasp
again in disbelief.

“Yep,” he says
before cramming half the piece of bread in his mouth. “Epic,” he says again as
he chews on the chunk of bread. I’m too blown away to eat anymore.

“You realize how
jealous you just made me,” I say.

“I may have a
few CD’s with his name autographed on them for you.” He looks up with those
deep-blue eyes twinkling and a wide grin stretched out over his handsome face.

“What? Where the
heck are they?”

“Waiting for you
in California. Eddie really digs my song, “Pretty Girl on My Mind,” so I told
him our history behind the song. I also told him you were in love with him.” He
gives me a sharp look and I smirk at him. “He thought I should make you wait
for the CD’s until you came back to me.” Dillon seems to slip into a somber
mood. He finally pushes the nearly empty plate away and eyes me from underneath
the thick fringe of eyelashes. “I’m still waiting, Jewels,” he whispers.

I slide my hand
over to his and entwine our fingers. “I’m right here.”

“Yes. But you
still feel unattainable.” Dillon says this to me, but I have always felt as
though he is the one unattainable.

Before I can
answer, the manager is back with a large square of tiramisu and two spoons,
along with two coffees. We leave the conversation and politely dig in. After
taking care of the bill, Dillon spends a good chunk of the next hour in the
restaurant making everyone’s day. It feels like hundreds of pictures have been
taken and he’s signed everything imaginable, before we finally slide out the
door. We don’t make it back until well past sundown. Dillon rode us all over
the state before declaring our day done, and I have to admit I have fallen in
love with his beastly bike. When we arrive back to the cabin, we find two
suitcases and Dillon’s guitar on the screened-in porch.

“Ben?” I ask.

“Tate. I’ve
promoted Ben to project manager,” he says, and again my thoughts drift back to
how very little I know about him anymore. That sinking feeling I had at the
restaurant has returned, but I shake it off as best as I can.

“You’re making
yourself right at home?” I ask as he pushes his stuff inside and unpacks some.

He glances up with
all seriousness. “You’re my home, Jewels. So yes, I am.” And I can’t agree with
him more.

Dillon grabs the
guitar and my hand, leading us to the back deck. He sits up on a deck chair and
serenades me, under the moonlight and before the welcoming lake, in an alluring
spell. Oh, how I wish every day concluded in this exact manner. This man looks
magical with the moonlight filtering over his handsome features as he loses
himself in the lyrics of his songs. It amazes me how effortless it is for him
to create such beauty in mere melodies and chords.

No matter how
much I’ve denied myself of this man, there is no denying how much I am in love
with him.

Chapter Fifteen

I couldn’t sleep
last night. I watched Dillon slip into sleep almost immediately after his
shower. Not me. I’m scared he is going to hate me. And I’m scared Will is going
to hate me too.

After the
restless night, I’m having a hard time waking this morning. I’m dozing in bed,
when a tickling on my face rouses me awake in the early morning sunrise. I open
my eyes and find Dillon lying beside me, leisurely tracing the contours of my
face with his fingertips. I say nothing for a spell and just enjoy the moment.
His dark-blue eyes look close to purple starbursts. They are exquisite and are
studying me reverently. How he looks at me as though I’m so precious causes
tears to prick my eyes. This man awakes all of my emotions and senses. It’s as
though I stop existing until he’s here with me.

“What are you
doing, Dillon?” I ask. I already know the answer, but I’d like to hear the
words that express his actions. This statement is normally the other way around
in the world we live in. Normally people have no trouble spurting off feelings
that they have no intentions of ever backing up with actions. Not Dillon. He’s
so opposite of this. This man’s heart is on full display right on his sleeve,
never hidden. Always so exposed and raw. I see it now in the firm set of his
mouth and eyes that are swimming with his own unshed tears.

“I’ve missed this
face more than I can ever express in a word,” he whispers before having to
clear the emotion from his throat. “You are my treasure. I’ve hated every day
I’ve had to live without you.” He continues to trace along my cheek. “You’re my
other half, pretty girl. I’ve lived too long not being whole.”

These are words
that Aunt Evie shared with me all those sad years ago, and they finish the job
of spilling my trapped tears. Dillon wipes them away with the pad of his thumb.
I grab hold of his hand and place a kiss on his palm. Then I place it on my
cheek.

I give him a
wobbly smile. “Good things come to those who wait,” I say, sharing some more of
my sweet aunt’s words.

“I’m over the
waiting.” Dillon pulls me closer to him so there’s no space between our bodies,
and I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I agree.”

Dillon leans in
to brush a faint kiss over my lips, but seems to think better of it and returns
to deepen it. We become lost in it, and all I want is to have the power to
pause time. Because in this moment, in this man’s comforting arms, I never want
to leave. Dillon Bleu is my home and I’ve been homesick for way too long.

Dillon cocoons
us with my quilt, and we eventually drift back off to sleep for a little bit
longer.

I leave Dillon
in bed later this morning and sneak off to see Will. I miss him too, and I
needed to relieve some of my guilt. I had breakfast with Will and saw him off
for his day before making my way to the office. This is the most time we have
ever been apart since he entered my life and I can tell he’s not taking too
kindly to it.

Today is Friday,
so I need to make sure all the weekend bookings are squared away. I have the
paperwork set before me, but I’m having a hard time focusing on it.

The morning
drags by with me booking sites over the phone and helping Jen figure out the
schedule. We have moved on to writing up late notices that she’ll hand deliver
later today. There are quite a few, and it’s disheartening. I’ve even been
helping some of the residents find jobs. I can’t tell you how many single moms
I have hooked up with condo cleaning on the other side of the lake. It’s hard
work, but it pays well and the poor women don’t have to work crazy late hours.
I help out where I can with babysitting and being lenient on rent, but there’s
only so much I can do myself. It’s a hard time to be living in this country.
People are hurting all around, and it can feel right hopeless.

I’m lost in
these hopeless thoughts and am pulled out of it abruptly. The door is yanked
open all of a sudden with Dillon storming in, and my stomach plummets with fear
that he has found out about Will on his own. He places his hands palm side down
on the counter and leans towards me with a glowering stare. I can’t even
swallow.

“Where are they,
Jillian? What did you do with our sheds?” He’s called me Jillian, and we all
know he means business.

Relief washes
over me and can’t help but laugh. Jen joins in, and this is rubbing Dillon
wrong something fierce.

“It. Ain’t.
Funny,” he slowly says.

“Did you really
think this place stood still while you’ve been off living your life?” I put
away the paperwork before returning my attention to our angry guest.

“But those were
our sheds!” He snaps, losing his patience. He looks as though he is near tears,
so I need to let him off the hook.

I grab a set of
golf cart keys and pull him towards the door. “I’ll be back later, Jen.” I
escort this brokenhearted rock star to the cart and drive him into the back of
the woods, to a new clearing where two new storage buildings sit hidden. I stop
in front of them. “All you had to do was nose around a little bit more and you
would have found them, busy breeches.”

“What happened
to the other ones? And why is there a big cabin in their place?” He still
doesn’t sound happy with the changes.

“I wanted a
bigger place, and where the sheds sat was the only place the county would
approve it to be built.” I climb off the cart seat and open the shed door. “All
of the old stuff has been moved here. I threw only what wasn’t salvageable out.
I couldn’t fathom not having a place to treasure hunt.” We look around at the
packed space, brimming with the craziest assortment of stuff. “I even hired
some guys to move most of it so I wouldn’t discover all the treasures.” I smile
and glance back towards my sulking company. “The old sheds were rotting down
too, Dillon. It all had to be moved regardless.”

Dillon trails
behind me and seems to be calming down a bit, so I reward him with a treasure I
found for him last year when I was moving everything. I reach in a trunk and pull
out a ukulele. “I got a treasure for you,” I say as I hand it over.

He takes it and
studies it. “This is from the mid-nineteen hundreds,” he says reverently as he
inspects it. I had it polished up and restrung before I hid it back in the
shed.

“How can you
tell?” I ask as we both eye the honey-toned instrument. It looks so tiny in his
large grasp.

“I’ve taken some
music history lessons online and I’ve had a private music teacher who didn’t
mind tagging along on the tour. I finished high school that first year through
private tutors and completed my Masters in music.” He says this as though it’s
no big deal. He begins strumming and stops to adjust the strings until they
sound just right.

“Dillon, that’s
really impressive.”

He shrugs his shoulders.
“The twins ended up graduating, too.” He’s still trying to downplay how
remarkable his accomplishment is. I really thought he was done with school the
day he left this place. I’m totally impressed.

He starts
strumming a song that sounds like it should be heard on a Hawaiian beach and
grins. “I’m really digging my treasure. Thanks.”

“Why are you
grinning so big?” I ask as I continue to watch him bring the petite instrument
to life.

“You’ve been
waiting for me to come back.” He holds the ukulele up as evidence and then
returns to strumming the strings. “I knew you still loved me.”

I lean against a
wooden totem pole and grin back at him. Don’t ask me how this eclectic
collection came to be. It’s the oddest bunch of stuff I have ever seen, but it
sure is fun to sift through. “Loving you was never the issue,” I say.

This statement
causes him to cease playing, and he captures my eyes with his. “Then what was?
Why did you leave me?”

“We’ve already
been over this, Dillon. I would have held you back. We were too young and
stupid.” I hold my hair off my neck as this space seems to be getting warmer by
the minute.

Dillon takes
advantage of this and runs his fingertips along the dewy length of my neck,
leaving a trail of tingles. “Well, I’m older and wiser now, and I still don’t
see your reasoning.”

“Music was your
dream and I didn’t want to hold you back in any way.” After his fingers leave
me, I drop my hair back down.

“Music has never
been my dream, Jewels. It’s my adventure, sure. But you have always been my
dream. I’ve loved you all my life, pretty girl.” He shakes his head at my
foolish reasoning. “Like I said yesterday, all I wanted was for you to go on my
adventure with me just as God did. He never got in the way of it. He only
helped to keep me on the right path.”

Tears slide down
my cheeks at this. “God also knew I needed to stay here. Aunt Evie… She would
have died alone if I had gone with you.” I tremble as Dillon wraps me in his
arms and holds me gently.

“I’m sorry. I
know,” he whispers while still holding me.

There’s more
than just the loss of Aunt Evie that has glued me here, and I should be
apologizing to him. We’ve both lost things we can never get back, and I worry
we may not be allotted a second chance.

He sets the
ukulele down and eases me over to the couch that was just delivered yesterday.
It’s wrapped in moving blankets. The floors in the cabin will be completely
dried by tomorrow I’m told, so things can start being moved in by the start of
the week.

Dillon sits down
and straddles me over his lap while pulling my head to his chest. He is so much
bigger than me, and I fit quite nicely in his embrace. I feel so safe and
protected in his arms. Eventually the holding moves to caressing and continues
to accelerate from there until we are back to kissing and losing ourselves into
one another in this moment. It’s like we can’t get close enough. The easiest
thing I have ever done is love this man. It comes so naturally, even when I
fight so hard against it. I don’t realize how incomplete I am until he shows
back up and makes me whole me again with his unconditional love. The way he
loves is uninhibited and with abandon.

“You’re mine,”
he says in a growl against my lips. All I can do is agree. I am completely his.

* * * *

We drifted
asleep, wrapped around each other on the couch for a while as the morning moves
forward without us. Eventually we rouse back up and spend more alone time
together, not wanting to leave the bubble we’ve formed while hidden away in
this treasure trove.

A little later I
have no choice but to leave Dillon to treasure hunt alone while I go back to
work. I need to clear my head so I leave him the golf cart and walk back. It’s
not even lunchtime and this day has just about overwhelmed me. It takes me
fifteen minutes to get back to the office and another fifteen to snap out of
the funk I’m in. Jen eventually demands I straighten up or go away.

We are propped
back up at the front counter when a massive Formula Sun Sport boat is hauled in
with two Yamaha Waverunners. These babies are custom built and are all sleek
with the same paintjob. Black and silver dominates with sharp blues. I’m
thinking this delivery is on the wrong side of the lake. But then I look closer
and can see Bleu Streak’s custom band logo embedded near the rear of each toy.
The logo itself would make a killer tattoo with the words in an edgy font.
There are all sorts of scrolling lines blazing in and out around the words, and
if you study the logo long enough, you will see hidden art. The T in Streak is
actually a cross and each band member’s name is camouflaged in a scrolling
line. The well thought out creativity in the logo alone is just mind blowing.
When the truck turns the corner, I see that the boat’s name is painted across
the back of it.
My
Jewel
, of course.

“Good grief. We
might as well send out a full blown invite for the media now,” I say. “This
place is going to be swarming with chaos.”

“Should I book
some security guards?” Jen asks as we walk over to the computer to look them
up. We are about to pick up the phone when a super-cute guy with auburn hair
walks in. He’s probably just twenty, if that. I look over at Jen and notice she
is enjoying the view.

“Hello ladies.
I’m Tate O’Ferrell.” He extends his hand, so we use our southern manners and
shake it. I’d rather strangle him and his boss at the moment.

“I’m Jen,” she
says, almost purring her introduction.

Before I can
introduce myself, Tate beats me to it. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet
Dillon’s Jewel.” He smiles widely.

I smirk at this.
I can see Mr. O’Ferrell thinks of himself as a lady’s man. “Okay, buddy, what
can we do you for?” I ask.

“Well, you see,
it’s my job to see after Dillon’s best interests, and I hope you don’t mind if
we bring in our personal security crew.”

This man has
just made my day. So now I’m over the whole strangling idea. “Okay. What does
that entail?”