Only in My Dreams (30 page)

“Thanks, Sara-cat, that means a lot to me. Hopefully I can convince Dad that I'm here to do my part. I can pick up Hayden's responsibilities
and
oversee the next phase of The Alex.”

Her heart lifted. To finally have her brother back filled her with joy. “I know you can.”

His answering expression was skeptical. “Thanks. Now I just need to convince everyone else I'm not the fuckup they think I am. Or that I'm not the fuckup I was.”

“Admitting you
were
a fuckup is step one.” She winked at him. “That'll help.”

He laughed. “Good advice. Can I make you breakfast?”

“Yes, please! I've been waiting for you to cook me something since you got home.” She punched him in the arm.

He massaged his bicep. “Still smacking people, I see. Lay off the yoga or whatever you're doing.”

She threw his sarcasm right back at him. “Still have SPD, loser.”

He moved into the kitchen and began pulling out supplies. “Tell me what's going on with you. I want to hear all about this douchebag assistant stealing your business.”

The use of “douchebag” reminded her of Dylan. As she told Kyle about Craig, she considered also confiding in him about Dylan. In the end, however, she decided she didn't want to break their secret pact.

Right now, she was content to bask in the warmth of her rekindled relationship with Kyle.

Chapter Eighteen

D
YLAN LOOSENED HIS
tie as he walked into his mom and Bill's house in Newberg. The day was warm and he'd had to hike up the street after parking a quarter mile away due to the excess of cars that were here to celebrate his sister's college graduation. The ceremony had been earlier that afternoon up in Portland where she went to school at Lewis and Clark. Tonight's celebration at the Davies' house was something akin to a wedding reception. It was certainly far more fancy than the barbecue they'd hosted a month after Dylan had graduated from the University of Washington, which had also doubled as a going-away party before he'd left for boot camp.

A handful of people were milling inside the house, mostly in the kitchen, which Dylan passed through on his way outside. The backyard was immaculately groomed due to Bill's OCD when it came to the house and garden. Everything had to be tidy and perfect, pretty much at all times. His high standards had made living there intolerable—another reason Dylan had moved to his dad's for high school.

Mom's eye caught Dylan as he stepped onto the patio. She waved and Dylan waved back. He beelined for the bar that had been set up beneath the pergola. They'd even hired a bartender to dole out wine from Ribbon Ridge as well as a keg of Archer beer. Dylan ordered a pint of the beer and then scanned the yard for his sister.

She stood beneath a string of colored lanterns, a glass of white wine in her hand, laughing with some friends. He took his beer and went to talk to her. She was, after all, the only reason he'd come to the party.

She turned her head as he neared. “Dylan!” She gave him a warm hug and introduced him to her friends. Then she excused herself for a minute and pulled him over to the side. “Thanks for coming. I know these things aren't your fave.”

“I'd walk over hot coals for you, Cheese.” He used the nickname he'd given her long ago after she'd insisted on spelling her name as Brie, a shortened version of Sabrina.

She laughed then glanced around him. “No date?” At his headshake, she pursed her lips. “You know Mom's going to harp on that. Please, for the love of all that's right in the world, date someone.
Any
one. Just once. Then I can stop listening to her bitch and moan about how lonely you are.” She rolled her eyes. “You're not really lonely, are you?”

“No.” Particularly not with Sara around. Last night was still bouncing around in his head like a song he couldn't remember all the words to. Being with her felt great, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. “Thanks for the warning though.”

“Eh, like you didn't know she'd pounce on you. Watch out, here she comes.” Brie made a face. “So glad I'm off to Hawaii tomorrow.”

“Brat.” He kissed her cheek. “I'm so proud of you.”

“Thanks.” A slight blush colored her freckled complexion. “Now let me go. I don't want to participate in the Dylan Matchmaking Extravaganza.”

“Consider it my graduation gift to you.”

“Done.” She waved at him, then twirled back to her friends.

Mom's face was deceptively placid when she arrived at Dylan's side. “It's so nice to see you and Sabrina together. Sometimes I think I raised two only-children.”

Sometimes it felt like that. Hell
, often
it felt like that
. He said nothing.

Mom turned toward him, her dark blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Why didn't you bring a date? I told you to bring a date.”

“Oh, and by your command, I should just magically have someone on my arm?” He forced a laugh. “Sorry to disappoint you. I've been really busy with the renovation I'm working on.”
And carrying on a secret fling
. God, he couldn't imagine subjecting Sara to his mother's interrogation and judgment, especially not right now.

“There's always something. Dylan, it's not good to be so work-focused.” She crossed her arms and gave him an expectant look. “I heard Jessica is getting married again. Is that true?”

Great
. He could hardly wait to hear how Mom was going to spin this. “Yeah. I saw Monica at Dad's house a few weeks ago.”

The flesh around her mouth pinched as if she smelled something bad. “Angie's still friends with her? Doesn't she realize that when there's a divorce, it's poor form to support the other side?”

Naturally Mom would think of things in terms of sides. Her split from Dad had been intensely acrimonious and though it had mellowed with time, they were still far from friends. Angie's friendship with Monica Christensen bothered Dylan too, but he wasn't going to share that with his mother. “Sides don't really matter.”

“I suppose not. It's not as if you and Jessica have any reason to communicate. Not like it was with your father and me—because of you.”
That's right
, Dylan thought. He was a nasty reminder of a marriage his parents preferred to forget. The look of distaste on her face sharpened. “You really need to address your personal life, now more than ever.”

Dylan refrained from gritting his teeth. “Why?”

She looked at him incredulously as if he should already know. “If Jessica is moving on, so should you.”

“It's not a contest.” Suddenly Dylan wondered if she'd married Bill in haste after Dad had married Angie. He'd met Angie when she'd substituted at the middle school, and their courtship had been somewhat quick. They'd married within a year of meeting each other. Less than a year later, Mom had married Bill. Dylan realized he still knew so little about his parents' marriage. They'd divorced when he was only a year old, so he had no memory of them as a couple or of the three of them as a family.

“Of course it's not a contest,” Mom said with a healthy dose of exasperation. “But it's a good reminder that you're not getting any younger, and it's past time for you to settle down. For real this time.”

He took her hand to try and lessen the blow of what he was about to say. “I'm not you or Dad. I didn't marry Jessica because I knocked her up and then split when I realized things weren't going to work out.”

Mom sucked in a breath and her eyes widened. “That's not—”

“What happened?” Dylan finished for her. “Maybe not in your memory, but that's the way Dad tells it and I'm inclined to believe him. I'm not trying to be brutal here. I just need you to back off.”

She blinked at him and for the first time in . . . he didn't know when, there were tears in her eyes. “I only want you to be happy. You don't seem happy.”

Didn't he? He wasn't
un
happy. Particularly these past few weeks with Sara. “You don't have to worry about me. Things will happen for me,”
or not
, “in their own time. I don't feel lonely or unhappy, so you shouldn't presume that I am.”

She sniffed and took her hand away from his to wipe beneath her eye. “Maybe if you spent more time with me and Bill, we wouldn't worry.” Like Bill gave a shit what Dylan was feeling. He never had. The kindest words he'd ever uttered had been following high school football games—“nice pass” or “great pump fake.” Mom looked at him imploringly. “Will you have dinner with us next weekend?”

Dylan wanted to ask if Brie could come, but she'd be in Hawaii, damn it. He could suffer one dinner, couldn't he? “Sure, but it has to be Saturday. I work late on Fridays.” And Sundays were out because Bill hated to clog up his Sunday nights when he had to prepare for the “long work week ahead.” Dylan fought to repress the old resentment toward his rigid stepfather and his endless rules.

Mom's face brightened. “Perfect. How about Hazel at six o'clock? I'll make reservations.”

Hazel had a fantastic menu, a great wine list, and terrific beers on tap. At least his stomach would be happy. He took a drink of beer, which was fast becoming the best thing about this shindig too. “I'll see you then.” He turned to go talk to one of the few people he knew.

“Don't forget to say hello to Bill before you go.”

Yeah, he'd get right on that. Dylan shot a look at his stepfather holding court with a handful of their neighbors over near his highly polished barbecue, which wasn't even in use tonight. A catered buffet had been laid out along the edge of the patio.

Bill didn't look at Dylan, and Dylan didn't expect him to. They enjoyed a mutually standoffish relationship, which seemed to suit them both fine. Damn, family was one effed-up beast. He wondered what these sorts of events were like at the Archers with all of those kids. Granted, their family wasn't a broken home like his. He stopped short. Except it was, just for an altogether different reason. And unlike Dylan's parents who'd made a decision to split up their family unit, the Archers had made no such choice. With the exception of Alex. Dylan found himself wanting to chew him out for being so unbelievably selfish.

He shook his head. What the hell was he doing? They weren't his family. Why would he even want to immerse himself in that drama? Being on the periphery with Sara was enough. He thought of last night and how upset she'd been, how she'd depended on his support. Maybe he wasn't even really on the periphery anymore. How long then until he was right smack in the middle?

He shuddered to think.

S
ARA HAD SPENT
the weekend hanging out with Kyle, which had done great things for her heart and soul. Having Kyle back made losing Mom much easier to deal with.

On Monday she'd worked on transitioning a bunch of work-related stuff, including sending parting letters to all of her old clients, inviting them to contact her if they were ever interested in hosting an event at The Alex. She thanked them for their patience and wanted them to know she wasn't angry with them for choosing Craig (even though she might've been a teensy bit bitter). Besides, it was just good business sense to leave people with a good impression.

After three days of not seeing Dylan and only exchanging a few texts, she could barely contain herself as she practically skipped down the dirt track to the cottage. She'd brought her pink hard hat and set it on her head before she moved into the construction zone.

Dylan was standing inside the former living room, which, once enlarged, would be a phenomenal indoor eating space that opened to a covered patio facing the panoramic view of the valley. He was slightly bent as he and Manny discussed the drawings laid out before them over a makeshift sawhorse table. A green T-shirt pulled taut along Dylan's shoulder blades, and his work belt was slung low across his hips. The view was enticingly sexy.

Manny turned from the table and smiled broadly at her. “Hi, Sara.”

“Hi, Manny, how's it going?”

He pointed behind her. “Look, a kitchen.”

She'd been so intent on Dylan when she'd walked in that she'd failed to notice they'd framed the commercial kitchen at the back of the building, which had formerly been a bedroom and office. “Oh! It looks great. You guys are really coming along.”

“The longer days sure do help. Catch you later, boss.” Manny touched the brim of his hat in mock salute and winked at Sara before climbing the stairs they'd installed when they'd started on the second floor.

Sara went to Dylan, who'd taken a step back from the table. “How are you?” she asked, unable to read anything about him for some reason. Her neck prickled. Usually he looked at her the way she looked at him—like a decadent Thanksgiving feast.

“Busy. You?”

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with him. Maybe it had been his sister's graduation party. He hadn't said much about it, had only even mentioned it in passing Friday night. In fact, he never said much about his family at all. “Same. How was Brie's graduation?”

“Oh, you know how those things are.”

She did. She'd attended several graduation ceremonies for her siblings; surprisingly, none of them had overlapped. “And the party?”

“Even more boring.”

She fought back a frown at his lack of elaboration. And a stab of resentment that he hadn't asked her to be his date. Which wasn't fair since they'd agreed to a strict friends-with-benefits policy. At what point, though, did they acknowledge that the rules had slowly and subtly changed? Or had they only changed for her?

She was probably overthinking his mood today. Maybe he
was
just busy. She was, after all, intruding at his workplace. Then again, she was his boss, right? She inwardly cringed. No, she wasn't going to think of their relationship in those terms. It was too . . . cold. “I had a great weekend with Kyle.” She'd texted Dylan that they'd made up.