Only in My Dreams (11 page)

She was tempted to tell Dylan he practically had the job, but in the end only said, “Talk to you soon.”

His gaze lingered on her for a couple seconds and the attraction she was trying so hard to ignore leaped between them again. “Tell your mom to take care of herself.” He opened the door and, just like that, the sparks of electricity dwindled and disappeared.

“Okay. Thanks again.”

He threw her a smile and closed the door.

Argh. She had to get a hold of herself. Their Vegas Rules night was long over, and they'd agreed that it was a one-night thing. Besides, it wasn't like she had the bandwidth to start anything more permanent. Her life was in turmoil, and she had no idea where things would be in a week, let alone a month. Beyond that, they were going to be coworkers. She needed to forget about Dylan Westcott in every capacity except as general contractor. But how was she supposed to do that when he'd given her the most memorable night of her life?

Chapter Six

D
YLAN PULLED INTO
his dad's driveway the following morning to help clean out the gutters. It was early, the temperature crisp, the sky a bright blue with the promise of a beautiful spring day.

He went to the door and knocked. Dad answered quickly with a warm smile. “You know you don't have to knock.”

He never felt comfortable just walking in. Yes, he'd lived there, had called it his “primary” residence in high school, but he'd never thought of it as home. It was the place he'd stayed when it had been his father's custodial time.

“Just you and me today?” Dylan asked. “Or is Cameron joining us?”

“He should be here, but you know him. Punctuality isn't exactly his thing.” Dad gestured for Dylan to follow him. “Have some coffee.”

Angie stood at the island in the kitchen with three mugs in front of her. “Hi, Dylan,” she greeted cheerily. She settled her glasses more firmly on her nose. “I have that vanilla creamer you like.”

She did try to be thoughtful and was much better about it now than when he'd been younger. Her focus had been on her three sons, and part of Dylan couldn't fault her for that. “Thanks.”

“What's new, son?” Dad asked, sipping his coffee, his hip against the island.

“Not too much.”

“You can do better than that.” Dad chuckled. “Getting information out of you is like pulling teeth. How's work? Any exciting jobs lined up?”

He never told anyone about jobs unless they were done deals. “Maybe. Too early to tell.”

“Well, keep us posted. We want nothing but the best for you.”

“Thanks.” He forced another swallow of coffee before setting the mug on the counter. “Ready to go?”

“Let's do this.” Dad set down his mug and led him into the garage.

Dad's house was a split-level, so one half was higher than the other half. They typically started with the high end. Dylan carried the ladder over and set it against the house as Cameron drove up in his ten-year-old Land Rover. Four years younger than Dylan, he bore a fairly strong resemblance to Dylan in height and build even though they were only half-siblings. Their similarities did not extend to their wardrobe, however. Cameron looked like he'd gone to Urban Outfitters that morning to get dressed.

“You do realize we're cleaning gutters,” Dylan teased.

Cameron glanced down at his clothes. “These are my work clothes.”

“You won't be sad if they get dirty? What will you wear to the club tonight?” Dylan's own clothes were things he actually
worked
in. They had stains and holes, and he'd never dream of wearing them “out.”

“Funny,” Cameron said. “I don't go clubbing every Saturday.”

“No, I guess you have to do your nails and hair sometime.” Dylan always gave him shit for his metrosexual habits, which Cameron took in stride.

“Happy to have you join me sometime. I've said it before and it bears repeating, you'd benefit from a manicure.”

Dylan's hands, currently covered with work gloves, were as rough and calloused as you could get. And he was fine with that. “You expect me to build shit with baby-soft hands? You're nuts.”

Dad came around the house lugging the power washer. “Hi, Cam.” His gaze dipped to what his son was wearing. “Did you forget we're cleaning the gutters?”

Cameron laughed. “No, I brought a rain suit.” He opened the back of his rig and pulled out the suit.

“You're a dick.” Dylan grinned at him.

Dad looked between them, confused. “What? Why?”

“Just stupid brother behavior.” Cameron toed his boots off and pulled the rain pants over his jeans.

“The pants should be enough,” Dylan said.

“And where are yours?” Dad asked.

“I'll get wet and muddy, so what?” Dylan didn't care—his jeans were pretty trashed anyway. And once he was dirty, he wouldn't have to go inside and have lunch or chitchat.

“I have extra rain pants.” Dad was already heading toward the garage.

“It's okay, Dad!” Dylan called after him, but Dad just lifted his hand and kept going.

“Nice try,” Cameron said. He'd put his boots back on and joined him at the ladder. “You'll have to hang out for lunch now.” Cameron knew his tactics well.

Dylan crossed his arms and waited for the stupid pants.

“What, you have somewhere else to be? I doubt that. Seems like your social agenda has taken a nose dive lately.” Cameron looked at him expectantly.

So he hadn't been going out much the past few months. He'd been busy working on his kitchen. “Yeah, so?”

“You should come out with me tonight. Hayden Archer and I are heading into Portland to a new wine bar.”

“I'm waiting to hear their decision about the job, so that would be pretty awkward. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Cameron grimaced. “Oh, I didn't realize the timing, sorry. But Hayden's cool. It won't be awkward for him, I'm sure. Hey, maybe it'll boost your chances—you're a hell of a wingman.”

Dylan snorted. “Real professional, bro. Besides, tonight's the night I sharpen all my tools and polish
my
nails—the kind I drive into wood with a hammer.”

“Ha ha, you're a laugh a minute.” Cameron leaned closer. “Come on. You haven't been out with me in ages. Don't tell me you've finally shucked your player reputation.”

“Hey, I've worked hard
not
to have a reputation. At least around here.”

“I know you have, and since I'm inviting you to
Portland
, there's no reason for you to decline. Especially since I know how much you love a good chase.”

“Shut up, Dad's coming. Unless you want to discuss our sex lives in front of him. If so, I'm happy to ask you all about your flavor of the month.”

Cameron grinned. “You're cruel.”

Just then a familiar figure came striding down the sidewalk, her arms swinging in a power walk. She slowed and stopped in front of the house. Hell, it was Monica Christensen, his ex-mother-in-law. He occasionally saw her in passing—at the grocery store or something, but they hadn't exchanged words. She pretty much hated Dylan's guts for “taking her baby away” when he was stationed in the army.

“Morning, Monica,” Dad said. “I'll get Angie.” He cast Dylan an apologetic glance and went inside.

“Hi, Dylan, it's been a long time,” she said.

He worked not to grit his teeth. “How are you?” And because not to ask would be a massively rude omission, he added, “How's Jess?”

“She's great. Wedding plans are coming along.”

Wedding? His surprise must've shown. He'd had no idea Jess was getting married again.

Monica put her hands on her hips. “I thought you must've heard. I walk with Angie every Saturday.”

Dylan had forgotten that; otherwise, he might've organized today's work party a bit differently. But that was stupid. He was a grown man, and he could handle seeing his ex-monster-in-law. “No, I hadn't heard. Give her my best.”

The door opened and Angie jogged to the sidewalk. “Bye!” She waved at them and the two women strode off in full power-walk mode.

Dad scowled. “Sorry about that. I wasn't thinking the two of you might actually have to exchange words. I know you don't get along.”

“It's not a question of getting along. She hates me for taking her daughter away.”

Cameron's eyes narrowed. “Which is lame, since her daughter ended up leaving you and choosing her stupid family over your marriage.” He blinked and shook his head. “Sorry, didn't mean to dredge up old shit.”

“It's fine. Ancient history. I'm glad Jess found someone else. She's a good catch.”
For someone who didn't mind meddling in-laws and a controlling wife
. His neck prickled uncomfortably. He wasn't jealous, but why was it easier for some people to find happiness than others? He shook off the thought. He didn't care about that right now. He was on a great path—he was going to score this Archer job, and he was going to turn it into something life-changing.

He pulled on the rain pants Dad had brought out. “Let's get moving.” He picked up the power washer and climbed up the ladder one-handed with Cameron following behind. At the top, he set the washer on the roof and turned to his brother. “You know, I think I will go out with you tonight.” Why not? He hadn't been back out there since Sara, and if he was going to be working with her, the time was ripe to exorcise her from his mind.

Cameron's mouth lifted in a lazy smile. “Feeling a little left out now that your ex has moved on?”

“I figured you'd make it about that. No, maybe I just want to get laid.” And he suddenly did. Only, the image in his mind wasn't of some nameless, faceless hottie he randomly picked up. It was Sara Archer's pert nose, sexy blue eyes, and lush pink lips.

“Great. Hayden and I'll pick you up at seven.”

Shit, he'd forgotten about Hayden. How the hell was he going to pick someone up in the company of his last one-night stand's brother? Forget that, Hayden was going to be his boss too. He'd meet up with them and then take off on his own. “No, I'll meet you there. Just text me the address.”

He was looking forward to a night where he could forget about work, family garbage, and, most of all, Sara Archer.

D
EREK FLIPPED THROUGH
the last file. Folders and papers cluttered the table in the gathering room. Sara, along with Tori and Hayden, waited while he read.

Dad came into the kitchen and moved toward the table. He glanced down at the papers spread out before them. “What're you kids up to?”

“We're selecting a contractor for phase one of the project,” Derek said. “Do you want to join us?”

Dad gripped the top of the chair at the end of the table where he typically sat. “Alex didn't assign me a role for a reason.” His tone was clipped, but then they all knew it bothered him that he hadn't been included.

Hayden shook his head. “Nonsense, Dad. We'd love your input. We contacted some of the people you recommended—and we'll be contacting others when we solicit bids for the other phases.”

“This phase is just the house renovation? Sara's wedding-space project?”

Sara nodded, glad to see him engaged. “That's right.”

“Great idea, you having the wedding there. Your mother just can't handle a big event here.” He looked out at the expansive back lawn and the trees beyond. “It's a shame, since we built this place both to raise all of you and to entertain our large and hopefully growing family.”

Sara heard the wistfulness in his tone. “Someone's bound to get married here someday, Dad.”

He turned a half-smile on her. “Maybe that'll be you, kitten.” He looked at Derek. “You're okay with getting married up at the new place?”

“I am. And Chloe is, too. We're just glad to have our family there.” Derek's gaze spoke volumes—the Archers were his family, and he treasured it above all else. “But to get there, we need to hire someone. I wasn't able to attend the presentations, but it looks like there was a clear choice, and after reviewing the documentation, I agree.”

Hayden flashed him a smile. “Excellent.” He leaned back in his chair and looked up at Dad. “Dylan Westcott.”

Dad squeezed his fingers around the back of the chair. “Your friend's brother? You sure he's the best, or are you just choosing the guy you like?”

“We chose the best guy for the job,” Tori said. “That he happens to be someone we know is just icing on the cake. He's a Ribbon Ridger. I thought you'd like that.”

“Here, look at his presentation.” Hayden had the folders stacked in front of him. He exchanged glances with each of them before handing the one on top to Dad.

Dad thumbed through it. “He bid on the entire project? Aggressive.”

“You typically like that,” Derek pointed out.

Dad nodded vaguely. “You're just hiring for phase one right now? He's probably fine for that. But when it comes to phase two, I hope you'll contact McAvoy. He did our last two brewpubs.” Dad flipped the presentation folder closed.

“I'm sure we will.” Derek took the folder from Dad.

Sara noted the new lines around Dad's eyes and wished he'd find a way to deal with his grief. He just seemed ready to explode. Standing, she went and touched his hand. Physical contact was the best way she knew how to comfort, because it was what soothed her. “You know we appreciate your feedback.”

He nodded. “Alex didn't want me to help you. The letter he gave me . . . He specifically told me to let you all manage everything.”

Sara's heart constricted and she saw the same reaction in the pained gazes of her siblings.

“I'm sure he didn't mean for you to stay out of things entirely,” Tori said softly.

“Well, we'll never know, will we?” Dad's tone was bitter and dark, like Mom's favorite chocolate. “It's not like I can ask him to clarify.”