The Taming of the Bachelor (17 page)

He took a seat next to her, topping his coffee off with a generous dollop of milk. “And you might say, it wasn’t hot and heavy between us, but that’s not what I remember.”

Just like that, she was blushing, cheeks burning. “You’re making too much of it. Let it go. I have.”

“I don’t think you have.”

She gripped her mug, feeling cornered, but also defiant. “What is this? What are you looking for? A review? A button or badge? Honestly, Dillon, what do you want from me?”

The edge of his mouth curled but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation, much less at her kitchen table, over cups of coffee he’d made. It was almost as if they were a couple, instead of two people who’d hooked up after a community fundraiser for a steamy makeout session. “I’m okay. Or I was okay, until you decided we had to analyze something that was obviously a mistake—”

“So you do regret it?”

“I regret being impulsive, yes. I regret losing control.”

“I knew it.”

“Stuff happens. That happened. We move on. Put it behind us.” Heat rushed through her, from her chest up, and she could feel herself flushing, her face probably now a bright, hot pink. “And I pretty much had, until you forced us to have this conversation.”

“I wouldn’t have had to force anything if you’d just talked to me Sunday when I dropped by to fix your toilet—which I understand from Tyler is still not working properly—so I’d know all was well.”

“All was well.”

“Bullshit.” His brow creased as he leaned against the table, resting his weight on his elbows. “If all was well you would have talked to me, not kicked me off your front porch. That was not cool.”

“There was
nothing
to say.”

“Then you’re either lying, or you suck at communicating, because there is a lot to say.”

She looked away, lips compressing, because how could she talk about what had happened Saturday night? She liked it. He didn’t. How did one discuss that?

How did one discuss that she’d wanted even more to happen? She’d wanted to go all the way. He didn’t.

So yes, her pride was hurt, her feelings bruised. She wasn’t someone who ever casually hooked up, and she wasn’t trying to sleep with Dillon to prove anything or make him feel responsible for her. She’d just wanted to feel...
more.
She’d wanted what she never got to feel. And she’d thought he would be safe for a fling. She thought he’d be good love and protective...respectful of her feelings. Instead he was too respectful.

How did you discuss
that
?

It was embarrassing even remembering, so yes, she wanted to squash the subject completely but it didn’t look like he was going to let that happen.

“I’m uncomfortable. Embarrassed,” she said quietly, unable to meet his gaze. “I find this all quite...mortifying.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not someone who...does...this.” She looked up, and then away. “I’m that mom that’s all about errands and bills and giving to my kids and work and community. I’m always so focused on doing the right thing and being mature and responsible and then I had an hour with you at the diner, and for an hour I was someone else, and it felt really good. Really freeing. I was just living in the moment and I was happy.” She drew a quick deep breath, hands clasped in her lap, and plunged on. “But then when we got to my house, it changed. And, that’s okay. I get it. You can totally change your mind, you have every right to change your mind, but I was kind of blindsided and so I felt vulnerable, and...” Her voice drifted off. Her shoulders twisted. “Pathetic.”

It was a long speech. She’d said a lot. And now there was silence.

Paige chewed her inner lip, waiting for Dillon to say something, wanting him to end the silence as the kitchen was way too quiet and the only sound was the tick-ticking of the charming Bavarian cuckoo clock Lewis had brought her after a climbing trip to the Alps.

She glanced now at the clock, hanging on the wall, above the big bulletin board covered with the kid’s school and soccer photos, their most recent art projects, her shopping list and to do lists, envying the little bird tucked away inside the clock. It’d be so nice to be hidden and protected, but Dillon wanted this conversation so she was having it.

She fidgeted in her seat, growing restless. “Does any of that make sense?” she said after a moment, determined to break the uncomfortable silence.

“No, because you’re not pathetic,” he said shortly. “You’re the furthest thing from pathetic.” Then he reached across the table and took her hand in his. “But I can understand how you’d feel vulnerable. And for that, I’m sorry. That was the last thing I’d want to make you feel.” His voice was deeper than normal, and troubled.

She glanced up into his face. His expression was just as troubled.

“Paige, I left abruptly the other night because I
wanted
you. Badly.” His fingers squeezed hers. “It wasn’t just this momentary lust, either, an itch I could scratch and be done with it. It was more. That scared me.”

It was hard to focus when they were touching. “Scared you?”

He made a soft, rough mocking sound. “I’ve had a thing for you for a long time, and then I finally get close, and I discover you’re everything I imagined, and more. But I’m leaving, and I can’t leave, not if I’m starting something with you.”

“But we weren’t starting anything—” she broke off at the lift of a brow. “Were we?”

“Look at us,” he said, nodding to their hands, fingers entwined. “There is something here. We both feel it. Every time we touch something happens. It’s hot. But problematic.”

“So you weren’t turned off by me,” she whispered.

“Absolutely not. All I could think about was taking you. Making you mine.”

A rush of heat washed through her, blistering her and she exhaled hard. “I wanted you to.”

“I know.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand, caressing her knuckles. “But you’re not mine to have, babe. And I don’t want to get in your head, or your life, and leave you hanging. Or hurting—”

“But maybe that’s not for you to decide.” She leaned towards him, looked into his eyes. “Maybe you need to leave that part to me.”

“I can’t.”

She felt another rush of emotion, this one split between anger and despair. “Why not?”

“Because I can’t be my dad. I can’t not care about you, and what’s best for you. And that will never change. I loved my dad but he broke my mom, not just her heart but her spirit, and I can’t be the man. Ever.”

Paige understood then why she was drawn to Dillon. He was one of those men born to protect, and she loved him for it. But she also understood then, that she wouldn’t be able to convince him that he was wrong, or that he should let her choose for herself. He’d been too scarred by his mother’s pain to allow him to do anything but what he thought would be best for her.

Once again silence stretched and it wasn’t tense or uneasy, just quiet, and perhaps sad. Things had once again shifted between them, changing in a way neither could ignore.

“I guess I was the one that needed to talk,” he said after a moment, expression wry. “Or, maybe I just needed you to listen to me.”

Her eyes burned and her throat ached and she wrapped his big hand with both of hers and held tight. “I’m glad we talked,” she said huskily, closer to tears than she’d been in years. “It makes sense.”

She walked him to the door. They didn’t say much on the way there. Everything had been said in the kitchen.

She felt as if she finally understood him, and yet with the understanding, came a new distance. He would always have this wall up...at least as long as he was focused on his company, and doing what he needed to do for Tutro.

She was going to have to let him go. She didn’t want to let him go. She’d already lost so much in life that it didn’t seem fair—

No, she couldn’t go there. She couldn’t make this about her.

“I guess this is goodbye,” she said unsteadily, reaching for the door, but unable to twist the knob open. Her hand fell off and she turned around to face him. “But I don’t want to say goodbye.”

His jaw worked and his mouth pressed flat. “I know,” he said after a moment. “I feel the same way.”

That helped, but didn’t.

He was going on to a big city with lots to divert his attention. She was staying here in a small town that had Sheenan stamped all over it.

She held her breath for a moment, fighting tears. “You’ll come back this summer...for Troy and Taylor’s wedding?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good.” She held her breath again, counting to five, and then ten. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. There was no reason to cry. He wasn’t dead or dying. He wasn’t sick. He didn’t hate her. He was just leaving Montana, moving away...

“Travel safe, okay?” she whispered, reaching up to swipe tears before they could fall.

T
o see her fighting tears was killing him. Dillon battled to keep his own emotions in check.

All he could think about was pulling her into his arms so he put his coat on to keep from reaching for her and jammed his hat on his head. “Please don’t be sad,” he said gruffly, chest tight. “I don’t want to remember you like this.”

She smiled then, too brightly. “I’m fine.”

Bullshit. He didn’t believe it for a minute. But he appreciated her effort. She was a gamer, this one. And a keeper. Someday the right man would steal her heart and he’d be damn lucky.

“I told Tyler he can come to me if he needs anything. I said you had my number.” He gave her a look. “You do have my number, don’t you?”

“I don’t.”

He reached for his phone, typed in a number and hit send. “You do now.”

Her blue eyes widened. “You had my number?”

“Of course. I’ve had it for years.”

“Seriously?”

He smiled faintly. “Babe, it was the first thing I tracked down when you moved to Marietta.”

“And in all those years you never used it.”

“Trying to respect you.”

She grinned, her dimple flashing. “It must be hard to be a saint.”

He laughed then, and reached for her, unable to stop himself. “I think we both know from the local gossip that I’m far from that.” He drew her close, bringing her tight against him, where she fit best.

For a moment he just looked into her dark blue eyes, taking in the softness and shine, and then his gaze dropped to the curve of her lips, which was sweet, and innocent.

She was the saint. She was tender and fragile, and far more innocent then he.

He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, his Wranglers too tight, and the pressure in his chest returning.

Beautiful woman.

He was crazy about this woman.

He couldn’t help stroking the corner of her lips, and up, his knuckles brushing across the sweep of her cheekbone and watched light and heat flare in her eyes.

He stroked again, this time just outside the curve of her mouth, following the shape without touching her lips. More sparks in her eyes, sparks that he felt all the way through him. His body was hard. He bottled the desire, keeping it wrapped tightly, bound by control.

“Don’t forget me too quickly,” she said softly.

The tension rippled through him. His heart beat a steady tattoo. “Will never forget you.”

“You’ve always said the nicest things.”

“I’ve always told you the truth.” It was also time to say goodbye.

He looked down at her for a long moment, everything inside of him going hard and tight. The tenderness in him was turning to anger. He wasn’t sure why he felt angry. Maybe it wasn’t anger. Just frustration. And regret. He supposed it didn’t matter. He needed to go.

Dropping his head, Dillon kissed her, lightly, and then more firmly, savoring the feel of her lips for the last time.

She reached up, her hands pressing to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt, holding him tighter.

It was almost impossible to break off the kiss. He lifted his head, gazed into her eyes which were cloudy with passion and emotion.

Beautiful woman.

“Wish you could do your work here,” she said with a crooked smile.

“Things are changing, but for the most part, Montana is still relatively low-tech.”

He tried to smile, but he wasn’t sure if he pulled it off. Hard to smile when your chest was tight, heavy. “Lots of open spaces and mountains, though.”

And then, he silently added, there is you.

Montana had Paige.

Her hands pressed against his chest. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, clearly struggling to find the right words.

He smoothed her golden hair back from her face, giving her all the time she needed. But then, he always would. He’d do whatever he could to protect her from more loss and heartache. It was time she was happy. Time she had the life she deserved. “Tell me, babe.”

She looked up into his face and then away, her lower lip quivering. “If you weren’t going to Texas, would we have had a chance...you and me? Or, would the fact that I have kids be a total deal breaker, because I know you said you didn’t want kids. Not now. Nor in the future.”