A Wedding Worth Waiting For (12 page)

Noticing his gaze, his father nodded in approval. “A good woman makes everything better. Even hurricanes. Of course, sometimes love is the refuge, sometimes it's the storm. You have to ride it out to know which way it will end.”

Ignoring his father's attempt at advice, Dylan moved behind the desk and took a glance at the spreadsheet showing on the computer. “Anything in particular you're worried about?”

His father tapped his fingers nervously on the edge of the desk, his lips pursed in thought. Dylan's heart squeezed. Dad didn't get nervous, not over things like money. A sick calf or the degradation of the Floridan aquifer, maybe. But money was just a means to an end for him. Pulling a chair around from the other side of the desk, Dylan sat and took a harder look at the numbers. Everything looked in order, but something had his normally steadfast father worried. “Everything looks okay. You should end the year in the black, with a decent profit.”

“Good, that's what I thought, too. But I'm more concerned about the bigger picture. I thought maybe you could take a look at the investments—I've got a statement here somewhere—and maybe the insurance policies, too. Basically, I want to know if everything's in order to keep this ranch going for the long term, or if I need to be making any changes.”

“Sure, I can do that. But is there something going on I should know about? Is everything okay around here?”

“Everything's fine. I'm just not getting any younger, and I want to make sure things are taken care of after I'm gone. I don't want to leave any financial burdens for your mother or you kids.”

Dylan stilled, his hand hovering over the computer mouse. The idea of his father being gone, dying, was incomprehensible. He was the bedrock their family was built on. If something was wrong with him...just the thought was enough to have bile rising in his throat. “Are you sick? Does Mom know?”

“No, I'm not sick, son. Just old. None of us lives forever, and I've reached a point where I want to be sure things are taken care of, that's all.”

The temporary panic he'd felt retreated a bit, leaving a bad taste in his mouth and a lump in his throat. Dylan had always known his father was older than most of his friends' parents, but until now it hadn't seemed important. The nearly fifteen-year difference in his parents' ages hadn't seemed important, either, but there were more lines on his father's face than he remembered, where his mother still looked to be in the prime of her life. “All right, I'll take a look.” It still seemed early, but if it would make his father happy there wasn't any harm in making sure everything was taken care of. “In fact, I'll print out some of this, if that's okay, and go over it later when I can take my time.”

A knowing smile lit up his father's face. “You just want to hurry back to that pretty young lady of yours.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“That you're in love with her? Probably not to everyone, but you look at her the way I look at your mother. Like she's a gift put on earth just for you, and you have no idea what you did to deserve something so wonderful.”

Dylan smiled at the image. “Yeah, that's as good a description as any. But she doesn't feel the same way—at least not yet—so I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything in front of her.”

“My lips are sealed. But if you have any sense, you won't let her get away, not if you really love her.”

“I'm working on it, Dad, trust me. But it's complicated.”

“Humph. Young people like to say that, but most of life is pretty straightforward, if you want it to be. Just a matter of sorting out what's really important and letting the rest be.”

“Maybe that's what she's still figuring out. Or maybe she already has, and I didn't make the cut.”

“Don't count yourself out yet. She's here, isn't she?”

“She's here because I bribed her with a home-cooked meal.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But if you care for her like I think you do, you won't give up on her.”

“I won't.” She was the first thing he thought of in the morning, and the last thing he thought of at night. Hell, he probably spent most of his waking hours thinking or daydreaming about her. So no, he wasn't going to give up. He couldn't quit her if he wanted to.

* * *

Sam sliced one last tomato, then slid the crimson slices off the cutting board and into the salad bowl. She'd braced herself for the usual social awkwardness, but Adele had kept up such a lively stream of conversation about the ranch and her family that she'd never had a chance to feel nervous. She'd even shared a few of her own happy memories, something she hadn't done in years. Maybe it was being in a kitchen that reminded her of the good times. Her mother, like Dylan's, had been an excellent cook. Or maybe it was just Adele's open and honest manner. Either way, Sam was enjoying her time with the older woman so much she was almost disappointed when she heard footsteps ring out behind her.

“Now you two show up, when everything's already done. That figures.”

Turning at Adele's reprimand, Sam spotted what had to be Dylan's siblings. They looked to be a few years younger than him, maybe early twenties. Both were tall and fair like he was, but Seth had his hair cut military-short in contrast to Dylan's messy surfer look. Miranda's was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her blue eyes were several shades lighter than those of the Turner men. She spoke first, glaring at her brother. “If Seth could tie a knot decently, we'd have been back an hour ago.”

“The knot was fine, the rope just frayed,” he shot back, reaching around her to open the refrigerator. Pouring a glass of milk, he nodded at Sam. “Well, hello, beautiful. I don't think we've met. I'm Seth.”

She blushed at his blatant attempt at a pickup. “Uh, nice to meet you, Seth. I'm Sam.”

“And she's here with your brother, so don't get any ideas,” his mother warned. “I won't have you two fighting over her at dinner.”

“I'm not really with him—”

“Yes, she is.” Dylan came down the stairway at the back of the kitchen and narrowed his eyes at Seth. “She most definitely is.”

Sam opened her mouth to argue, but Dylan's mother shook her head, obviously trying to avoid a confrontation between the two brothers. Why on earth she thought they'd fight over her, Sam had no idea. Probably another sibling rivalry thing she didn't understand.

Miranda had watched the exchange with interest, as if waiting for it to come to blows.

“Are they always like this?” Sam asked.

“Only when they both want the same thing. You should have seen them battle it out last Thanksgiving over the last piece of pumpkin pie. Brutal.”

The last piece of pie? Was that how Dylan saw her? Or was he just posturing to annoy his brother?

“Miranda, don't tease. Seth, please go get your father and tell him dinner is ready. And Dylan, stop glaring at your brother and carry something out to the table.” She brushed her hands on the dish towel she'd tied at her waist. “Don't worry, Sam, I promise they can behave when they want to. They just get a bit ornery when they're hungry, always have. Once they've had dinner, they'll turn into real grown-ups and we can have a nice visit.”

That blunt prediction proved true, and once everyone had helped themselves to pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, salad and biscuits, the mood turned jovial. Of course, it was hard to be anything but happy given the setting. They'd eaten together at the big table on the patio, enjoying the beautiful weather as well as the amazing food.

Seth was seated beside her, and other than a few pointed remarks at his siblings he was a perfect gentleman. Relaxing among the chaos, she almost missed his whispered apology.

“Hey, sorry about before. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If I'd known Dylan and you were together, I wouldn't have tried to hit on you.”

She raised an eyebrow, and he laughed. “Okay, maybe I would have. But no worries, I know when to bow out.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but there's nothing going on with us. Not for real.” Maybe if she kept saying it, her heart would get the message. Because the more time she spent with Dylan, the harder it was to remember that their relationship was a pretense. But emotions were fickle things, and she couldn't allow her feelings, whatever they were, to determine her actions. Yes, some small part of her wanted to pretend this could be her life, that Dylan's family could one day become her family. But that was the lonely little girl inside her talking. The grown woman she had become knew to keep things based in reality.

Seth shook his head and took another bite of pot roast. “Trust me, I know my brother, and the look he gave me says it's real, at least on his part.”

Not wanting to start an argument, Sam turned her attention to the remaining food on her plate, half listening to the boisterous conversation flowing around her. Miranda was still contending that Seth hadn't tied a gate shut properly, and Seth was protesting his innocence while Dylan and their parents weighed in on the various merits of the case. Then the topic turned to upcoming events, and the Outdoor Days Festival.

“Will you be competing in any of the events there, Sam?” the eldest Turner asked as he snagged a second helping of potatoes.

“No, I'll be on duty, actually. The FWC will be providing security, as well as helping to run some of the outdoor-type events—the fishing competition, archery and such.”

Dylan looked up from his meal and gazed down the table at the rest of the family. “Sam's boss is going to be there, as well, and he's expecting to see that she's becoming a trusted member of the community. I'm hoping you all will make a point of showing your support while you're there.”

“Of course we will, won't we, Ken?” At his nod of agreement, Adele smiled encouragingly at Sam. “It's wonderful to have you here, working to protect the environment. And I'm sure everyone else feels the same way. I know small towns like Paradise, and rural areas like we live in, are so tightly knit that they seem closed off. But I like to think we're a pretty friendly group, all in all.”

“I can definitely say I've felt welcome today, so thank you.” Not everyone would be as easy to win over as the Turner family, but their open warmth today was definitely a much-needed shot of encouragement.

“You are welcome,” Ken stated emphatically. “Any time. And we hope you and Dylan will come and visit often.”

“Well, I don't know—”

“We won't take no for an answer,” Adele interjected. “I know you're busy right now, with everything going on with the new job, but once things settle down we'll expect you for Sunday dinner on a regular basis. Any friend of Dylan's is a friend of ours.”

Sam couldn't help but notice the extra emphasis the woman had put on the word “friend,” no doubt insinuating she thought their relationship went beyond the platonic. There was no point in arguing; the more she protested, the more they'd think there was something to hide. If Dylan was a smooth operator, he'd learned it from his parents. So she plastered a smile on her face and said the only thing she could say. “Thank you. I'd love to come back.” Which was, she realized, the truth.

Chapter Twelve

D
ylan dried the last pan, stacking it neatly in the cupboard when he was done. “Thanks for dinner, Mom. It was amazing, as always.”

His mother hugged him hard. “Thank you for coming. It's been too long.”

Ah, guilt. The secret weapon of mothers everywhere. “I know. I'll try to get back sooner this time.”

“You do that. And bring Sam with you.”

He winced. “Mom, I told you, we're not really dating. This is just a temporary thing.”

She gave him her famous “don't argue with me” look and he closed his mouth. There was no winning when she got that look on her face. “Dylan Alexander Turner, don't you lie to me.”

What? “Mom, I'm not lying about anything.”

“Then you admit you're in love with that girl?”

Love
, the word he'd been avoiding. Yes, he cared for her. And he wanted to be with her, in every way. Especially the biblical way. But that was about lust, and friendship and fun, and—

“Dylan?” His mother's gaze bored into his, seeing what he hadn't wanted to see for himself.

“Yes, fine. I'm in love with her.” Saying it out loud wasn't as scary as he'd expected. It felt right. “I'm in love with Sam. But that doesn't mean she's in love with me. She's just—”

“She's just confused. She'll figure it out. You just keep being good to her. Actions speak louder than words—that's how you'll win her over.”

“Dad said the pretty much the same thing.”

“Well, your father is a smart man. Almost as smart as me.” She winked, and he felt a rush of gratitude. Both his parents had always supported him, and even now, with this crazy situation, they had his back.

Sam, on the other hand, had lost her mother too young and had a father she hardly saw. But maybe that was something he could help her with. If she was too intimidated to face her old man on her own, he'd go with her.

He waited to bring the idea up until they were in the car, with a well-fed and fully worn-out Toby in the backseat. Sam looked almost as content as the dog. He'd gambled that the relaxed atmosphere of the ranch would have the same effect on her as it did on him, and it seemed he'd won that particular bet. As if feeling his stare, she turned away from where she'd been gazing out the window and smiled.

“Thanks for convincing me to come out here. Your parents are amazing, and so was the food.” She stretched back in the seat with a smile. “I had a really nice time.”

“Good.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he navigated the deserted blacktop that led east toward the coast. “And speaking of parents, I was thinking we could stop at your dad's place on the way back home.”

Instantly she stiffened, the tension in the car ratcheting up about a million percent. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“You didn't think going to the ranch today was a good idea, either, but I was right. And I think I'm right about this, too.”

“Visiting your family was different...they're normal. My dad is...he's not an easy man to be around.”

“I'm not sure anyone would call my family normal, but I get your point. They're comfortable to be around, and I know I'm lucky. But just because things between you and your father have been a bit tense doesn't mean he doesn't miss you. You're still family.”

“You don't understand.” She crossed her arms tightly against her body.

“Maybe not. But you're the one that said you wanted to try to work things out with him, now that you're living here again. Have you even talked to him since you got here?”

She kept her eyes averted, but he saw her squirm in her seat.

“I didn't think so. So why not tonight? You'll have made the first move, and if it goes terribly we'll just leave. At least you'll have tried.”

For several minutes she was silent. Maybe he'd pushed her too hard. It really wasn't his business, except given how he felt about her he couldn't help but want to fix anything broken in her life. He hated seeing her hurt, and more than anything her father's rejection, real or imagined, was causing her pain. If he could help that wound heal, he was going to try. Finally, she sighed and told him where to turn.

“He moved to the mainland when I started college. He says it was because it was a shorter commute to the FWC district office, but I think he just wanted more distance between him and his memories. Now he's still close enough to go into Paradise when he needs to, but far enough away that people don't just stop by.”

“Except today.”

She frowned. “Yeah. I'm not sure how well that's going to go over.”

“You're his daughter. He'll be happy to see you.”

Thirty minutes later Dylan wasn't so sure. They'd turned off the highway just before the Paradise Bridge onto a winding dirt road that seemed to get narrower and rougher the farther they went. Branches were brushing against the sides of his truck by the time they turned onto a gravel driveway peppered with potholes. Metal NO TRESPASSING signs were posted prominently in every direction. Sam hadn't been kidding when she said her father had become a virtual hermit. He was half expecting to be greeted with a shotgun blast.

Finally the house itself came into view. The small but sturdy-looking cabin was a simple, one-story affair, painted a deep green that blended in with the surrounding trees. No light shone, but the sounds of a televised baseball game carried through the open windows.

“Ready?”

She nodded but made no move to get out. Toby, however, had none of her misgivings, and after his short nap was bouncing in the backseat, eager to explore. “Think it's okay to take him in with us?”

She shrugged and opened her door. “I don't see why not. Honestly, Toby's probably more welcome than the rest of us.”

Dylan snapped on the dog's leash and let him sniff at the bushes on the edge of the drive while Sam slowly climbed down from the truck and looked up at the house.

“Well, we're here. Might as well go in. But remember, I told you so.”

* * *

Sam knocked on the door and waited, a false smile on her face. The last thing she wanted to do was have Dylan witness an awkward encounter with her father, especially after seeing how supportive his family had been. Not only of him, but of her, too. They'd made her feel more at home in a few hours than she'd ever felt in her father's lonely hideout in the woods. But Dylan was right—if she wanted things to change, she needed to make the first move. Her father certainly wouldn't, not if the last decade was any indication.

Footsteps and then the sound of a lock turning signaled an answer to her knock. Just as the door started to open, Dylan reached out and gripped her hand, giving her a comforting squeeze of support. Having him at her side shouldn't matter; she had always been strong enough on her own to face whatever came her way. But she couldn't deny that having his support made her stand a little straighter as she prepared to face the one person who still made her feel small.

“Hey, Dad.”

Her father stood ramrod-straight, his gray hair and leathered skin the only concessions to his age. He was still trim, with the same lean and muscular build he'd had back when he was a young recruit himself. He wore a polo shirt and khaki shorts and had shaved recently, as if he were expecting visitors or intended to go out. But he didn't go out, not if he didn't have to, and certainly not to socialize. He was dressed neatly because he believed that anything worth doing was worth doing well, even if it was just getting dressed in the morning.

“Sam? What are you doing here? You should have called first.”

Her blood chilled and she was grateful for the warm press of Dylan's hand in her own. No exuberant welcome here. Just the ever present disdain she'd come to expect from the man who had once been her biggest hero.

“I hope this isn't a bad time, but Sam and I were in the area and thought we'd stop by to say hello.” Dylan's words were as easygoing as ever, but she could feel the sudden tension in his grip. She'd tried to warn him, but even she'd expected a slightly warmer greeting.

“And you are?”

“Dylan Turner, sir. I'm the director of the Paradise Wildlife Rehabilitation Center, and a friend of your daughter's.”

“Dad, are you going to let us in or not?” Somehow, seeing him through Dylan's eyes took some of the fear away. Why had she let him intimidate her for so long? She was a grown woman, and if he wasn't interested in spending time with her, then that was his loss. She wasn't going to beg for his attention, not this time.

His eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly at her tone. No doubt he'd expected her to scramble to justify herself, and if Dylan hadn't been there she might have done just that. But this time his behavior wasn't just hurtful, it was embarrassing. Perhaps realizing this, he opened the door and waved them inside.

The cabin's interior was as bland as the exterior. Bare walls and a total lack of personal touches made the place look more like a rental cabin than a home. The only signs of occupancy were a stout bookcase stuffed with the latest true crime novels and a half-empty glass of amber liquid. Good scotch was the one vice her father allowed himself, and even then only a single glass. There was no chance of her father, the ultimate control freak, ever giving in to a good binge. No, he had too much pride for that.

“So, how have you been, Dad?”

He grunted and lowered himself into a leather wingback chair near the empty fireplace. “Just fine. How about you? Shouldn't you be working today?”

She managed to keep from rolling her eyes, but just barely. “Dad, I've got the day off. Even us newbies don't have to work seven days a week.”

“Maybe not, but it doesn't hurt to put in some extra hours. If not on the job, then on the range, or out in the fields sharpening your skills.”

Seriously? She started to defend herself, but Dylan beat her to it.

“Actually, we were out at the range just the other night, and I have to say, your daughter is quite the marksman. She had the whole place in awe of her.”

“Well...that is good to hear. But that doesn't mean you can rest on your laurels. Dedication, that's what it takes. Especially for a—”

“A woman. I know. And I am dedicated. I'm working my butt off, in fact. But I'm also trying to make a life outside of work, with friends and family. We had a lovely visit with Dylan's family and thought it would be nice to see you, too. But if we were wrong about that, we can leave.”

Her father stroked Toby, who had settled at his feet, and stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. No doubt he was wondering where his obedient, timid daughter had gone to. Well, tough. She'd wasted enough time trying to please him.

“I was just pointing out that you have more obstacles in front of you than if you were a man. But if you think you have the time to waste on pleasure trips around the countryside—”

“You know what? You're right. This is a waste of time, but it's certainly no pleasure. There hasn't been anything resembling pleasure, or fun, or love in this family since Mom died.” After years of being dammed up behind polite silences, the words finally poured from her mouth. “I don't know why you can't love me the way you loved her, or why you hole up here away from anyone that ever gave a damn about you, but I'm done trying to figure it out. Like you said, I've got my work cut out for me if I'm going to make it as a wildlife officer, and there's no point in wasting precious time pretending we're still a family.”

For once her father looked shaken. “Listen here, young lady. I don't know what's gotten into you, but you and I are blood, no matter what you think.”

“Please, we haven't been a family since Mom died and you sent me away. I don't know why I thought moving here would change that. My mistake.” She stood, shaking as the adrenaline shot through her veins. “One I don't intend to repeat. Goodbye, Dad. Have a nice life. Or whatever you call this...existence...that you've created for yourself. Honestly, sometimes I think you might as well have died with her.”

She left before he could say anything to stop her, not that she thought he would. Vision blurring, she nearly tripped going down the stairs. Only then did she realize she was crying, and that got her mad all over again. He didn't deserve her tears, and now Dylan was going to think she was some kind of crybaby. Making for the car, she refused to turn around; no way would she let her father see her tears. Behind her, a door slammed shut, the sound a final note to end her childhood. From now on she was on her own.

* * *

Dylan jogged after Sam, practically dragging Toby, who couldn't figure out why they were leaving so soon. At least one of them had enjoyed their visit. Of course, Sam's father had been nice to the dog, which was more than could be said for his treatment of his own daughter. How could anyone be so cold and closed off to their own flesh and blood? Dylan and his parents had certainly had their rocky moments, particularly when he'd been a headstrong teen with more ego than brains, but there had always been an underpinning of love to soften any harsh words.

Between Sam and her father there was only mistrust and hurt feelings. On both sides. He'd seen the shock and sorrow on the old man's face when Sam stalked out. There was more than the harsh exterior he'd shown them, but that didn't excuse the way he'd treated Sam. She deserved way better, and anyone who didn't realize how special she was didn't deserve her in their life.

Sam was standing at the side of his truck, her hand on the door handle, waiting for him to unlock it. Gently, he laid a hand on her shoulder, not wanting to push too hard, but needing her to know he was there for her. “I'm sorry. You were right. I shouldn't have pushed you to come here.”

She laughed, the sound brittle in the deepening night. “Yeah, well, you couldn't have known.”