She's the One (13 page)

How could he convince Alexandra to believe in them when his identity was guaranteed to scare her away?

A
LEXANDRA ENTERED THE KITCHEN
intent on getting a drink of water and interrupted Dylan reading. His gaze swept over her, lingering on parts of her that immediately heated and pebbled in response. That thoroughly destroyed her composure. Why was that all it took with him? A single look and she melted?

It was late, the middle of the night. A battery operated lantern sat on the table in front of Dylan, lighting the pages of his book but cloaking the kitchen cabinets in shadows.

“Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head, unable to tell him she was so nervous about flying out to deliver supplies with him as soon as the others left in the morning that she’d tossed and turned since going to bed.

She helped herself to a glass, wishing flannel was as sexy on her as it was him and that her hair didn’t look like a rat’s nest. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing.”

She got a glimpse of the child psychology book and sighed.
Nothing
was pretty heavy material. “I forgot to tell you what Colt did today. Well, it might not be anything but you and Zeke both have said Colt never responds and—”

“He spoke?”

Dylan shot off his stool so fast Alex nearly dropped the glass she held. She managed to keep hold of it, but water sloshed over the rim and onto the floor. Dylan plucked the glass from her hands and set it aside.

“What did he say?”

She stared into Dylan’s taut features. His hands gripped her shoulders a little too tightly, his eyes blazed with intensity, and she desperately wanted to tell him what he so obviously needed to hear. “I’m sorry. Dylan, no, Colt didn’t speak. I didn’t mean to imply that he did.”

Dylan’s disappointment was visible. His grip loosened until his hands fell to his sides. “I should’ve known better. You’re good but you’re not a miracle worker.”

Did he expect her to be? Because that definitely counted as pressure.

“Alexandra, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Colt, that you had to find out the way you did.”

She liked his ability to apologize. “I understand. Like taking his photo, it’s for his safety.”

“Yes. But I should have thought to tell you.” He ran a hand over his hair in frustration. “It’s become so normal I—Dammit, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” She reached out to Dylan, placed her hand on his arm. “Today, Colt didn’t speak but I asked him a question and he nodded. I thought it was something.”

“It is. You’re sure he nodded?”

The intensity was back. Unable to stop it, pleasure filled her chest and a smile curved her lips. Dylan looked so thrilled at the news and she was glad to have given
him that, at least. “Twice,” she said, explaining what had taken place. “I was going to say something earlier but we began playing then it was dinnertime. It slipped my mind. And I wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t normal behavior for him.”

Dylan’s expression of love and hope and a father’s desperation tore at her soul. She stepped close and wrapped him in her arms, feeling the play of muscles along his back and the strength with which he held her.

How could this feel so right and be so scary? Finally she broke the silence. “Talk to me,” she whispered. “Tell me what the doctors have said. Tell me so I know how to talk to Colt.”

Dylan inhaled, his lips grazing her neck. “Before the fire Colt talked. He said simple words and short sentences. Then nothing.”

“Not even a nod?”

“Not even a nod.”

Pulling away she caressed his cheek. They hadn’t known each other long enough to know the details of each other’s lives but he responded to her touch. Not in an I-wanna-get-laid kind of way but in a friendship kind of way. An I’m-
into
-you kind of way. That was a powerful feeling. And oh, so sweet. “That means we need to focus on the positive here. Colt nodded at me, he
answered
me, and that means Colt
is
getting better. It’s progress, right? It means he’s thinking about it in his head. And maybe next time he will say something and I hope when he does,” she said softly, “he says it to you.”

Dylan closed his eyes as if in fervent prayer and drew her to his chest once more. He was an affectionate man, touching, holding, brushing his hand against
hers. She liked it. Liked it when he smoothed his palms up her back, tangled his fingers in her hair. When he used his grip to gently tip her head back and nuzzled his nose with hers.

Dylan dipped his head and his breath sent shivers down her spine when it tickled her ear. “I’m not surprised Colt responds to you. God knows I do.”

Heat pooled low in her belly and that sense of rightness returned. She recognized the signs of desire, of intense and serious
like
. There was something else, too. Something bigger than them both. Was she imagining that?

Dylan smelled good, like fresh air and wood smoke. The scents reminded her of fall in Tennessee, and she knew she’d never smell them again and not think of him.

Alex used his chest for balance and rose onto her tiptoes, giving him a lingering kiss, one that left his eyes dark and made her body tingle. A kiss that brought all sorts of thoughts to her head, most of them warnings and reminders, lists of why she liked her life exactly as it was. Freedom, the ability to answer only to herself. No ties, few worries. A good life, the best life. She was perfectly happy. Splendidly content.

But this feeling was
nice
.

A week with Dylan had made her feel strangely adrift. And it made her question her goals, her lifestyle. Her very core and inner self.

Was she happy? Did she have all the things she wanted? Was she content?

The voice inside her head, usually so sarcastic and witty and ready with sharp-tongued quips about all
things, was absurdly, strangely silent, leaving her floating in a realm of feeling with no compass to show her the way.

“H
AVE
I
TOLD YOU THAT YOU ARE
one incredible man?”

Dylan smiled at the excited tremor he heard in Alexandra’s voice. Some women liked jewelry. Some liked flowers. Apparently Alexandra liked wolves.

They were hunkered down behind a stand of trees and brush, lying side by side for warmth beneath the overcast November sky. He’d admit flying in small planes took some getting used to, but she’d handled their short flight north without throwing up before, during or after landing. That was progress and he’d admit to a sense of pride that she’d conquered her fear to that measure. He’d have to remember Alexandra’s preference for wheel skis versus water floats in the future.

Dylan bit back a curse. If they
had
a future. Their time together was short, teetering on half-truths and secrets and the length of her vacation. He couldn’t let himself get ahead of things when the future would play out in ways he couldn’t predict. All he could do was let her get to know him, feel comfortable, so that when—if—he revealed all to her, maybe it wouldn’t matter.

But being a realist, he knew the chances of that happening were against him. Odds were they wouldn’t be together in a month and he had to remember that and enjoy the moment for what it was.

“This…Dylan, they are
amazing.”

“I thought you might like them,” he whispered.

She gave him an insanely seductive smile. “I definitely like them.”

Them, or him? He noted the heat and desire in her gaze and his body responded as it always did.

Tempted, Dylan leaned lower and kissed her, lingering over the caress, taking it deeper and teasing her with all the skill he possessed. She tasted like coffee and apples. Sweetness and light.

Across the field one of the wolves barked and yipped. Dylan ended the kiss, pleased to see Alexandra’s eyes were unfocused, her expression soft. They shared a smile before returning to watch the wolves playing close to their den.

Alexandra’s entire face lit up at the pups’ antics. Balancing carefully, barely a breath of sound escaped as her camera caught the wolves in action. They were shy creatures and wary of humans. He’d brought her to one of his favorite spots. He’d discovered it a year ago and kept the location to himself, needing a place to get away from Zeke’s well-meaning lectures.

While Alexandra continued to watch through her lens, he carefully set his binoculars aside and studied her. The tip of her nose was Rudolf-red, her hair sticking out from under what she referred to as her “ugly hat.” She’d never looked more beautiful.

Sending her to bed last night alone had been hard but he’d forced himself to do it, reminding himself that every minute that passed and every ounce of trust she placed in him was worth the discomfort he felt. Cold showers had become the norm.

Color began to fill his head, his thoughts shifting to the grit of trail dust, the call of crows and the rush of water over the rocks. In his mind he saw a river, Evangeline picking her way across the bank to the water’s edge…

“Dylan? Hey, where’d you go?”

Alexandra’s voice cut into the scene evolving in his mind. He blinked to find her staring at him, a smile pulling at her lips.

“What were you thinking about so intensely?”

It was the perfect time to tell her the truth. But he couldn’t tell her now. He might scare her if he blurted all here in the middle of nowhere when she was completely at his mercy.

Soon, he promised himself. “You,” he said simply, because it was the truth.

D
YLAN SAT IN THE LOFT
and watched the auroras roll over the sky in neon waves. He should go downstairs and wake Alexandra for the show but he couldn’t put himself in such close proximity to her and a bed and be held accountable.

His thoughts were filled with images of Alexandra and her smile today at the sight of the wolves, of Alexandra and Colt lying on the floor playing with Colt’s ranch set. Of Alexandra, period.

Maybe it would have been better if Alexandra had recognized him right from the start. Then Dylan wouldn’t be sitting here brooding over whether or not to tell her when their time together was limited.

The scuffle of a footfall sounded behind him and without turning he knew who it was. Not his father, not Colt. Her. His entire body went on immediate alert.

“You didn’t wake me.” It was a complaint, filled with hurt rather than anger.

“Just started a few minutes ago. Can’t sleep?”

Alexandra wore her flannel pajamas, a throw
wrapped around her shoulders like a cape. There was enough light emitting from the laptop’s screen to allow him to see the color that blossomed in her cheeks.

It was easy to read her thoughts because, since her arrival, he’d had those same kinds of dreams.

The computer screen flickered before it went to a screensaver, plunging them into shadows except for the rolling colors outside the window.

“Dylan…is something wrong?”

With us
. The words were there, if unspoken. He closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to travel back to California. He made himself remember when it was the last thing he wanted to do. Lauren had always claimed he didn’t open up to her, didn’t communicate enough. And that made him think of the things Alexandra needed to know.

Instantly the fear came and he shot out of the chair, grazing his hand against the mouse in the process. The move was enough that the computer screen filled with the words unlike anything he’d ever written.

He hadn’t been able to type them fast enough, hadn’t been able to translate the images of Jesse and Evangeline and their adventure before his mind went on to another scene, and another. Unable to sleep, unable to think straight, he’d started to write even as he told himself that life was over. He needed to leave well enough alone and stop wishing for the impossible.

Still, he’d sat here and typed, amazed that the words flowed so easily, and knew it was because of
her
.

He wanted Alexandra. Desired her. But when she left would the words still come? After being blocked for years and unable to write, was Alexandra the one thing—the only thing—to bring him back? To what end?

Dylan leaned over the desk and quickly minimized the screen, wishing he had the nerve to shut down the computer so that the unsaved document would be lost. A conscious gamble he took because he had nothing to lose or gain.

But a part of him was hopeful and that was the saddest, sickest thing of all. He could yearn for a future all he wanted, but he couldn’t change the past or avoid the devastation that would come if he trusted the wrong person or someone discovered his darkest fear.

“You’re busy. I’ll go.”

She turned to leave and he ordered himself to let her. But he couldn’t. He moved closer, shifted so that he could slide his hand up and tangle it in her hair.

Her gaze met his, worry and curiosity and wary acceptance in her eyes, as though she knew there was something big between them besides her time limit.

“We’re making this too complicated,” she whispered, “when it’s very, very simple.”

A lie. It wasn’t simple and he’d bet everything he had that she knew it but was trying to fool herself, the same way he was. Simplicity had gone out the window when they’d agreed to two more weeks. “I don’t want you to be sorry you met me.”

“Why would I be?”

Such a simple question. He opened his mouth, the truth on his lips. “I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“We all have.”

What could he say to make her understand there were mistakes—and then there were
mistakes?

Alexandra waited expectantly, her expression curious and also sad. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you need to know who I was. It took the fire to show me what was important because for a while nothing was as important as
me
. Not my wife, not my son. Nothing.”

Alexandra was silent for long seconds and all Dylan could hear was his heart pulsing through his ears.

“So you’ve warned me,” she said softly. “I hear what you’re saying but I
still
think you’re a good man. And you are so worried about making that mistake that you won’t make it again. You’re reminded of it every time you look at Colt, and every time you see your hands. Dylan, you’re a caring father, a patient son. You work hard and you’re aware of your mistakes. It appears to me that the only one who doubts you is you.” She tilted her head to the side. “You said she cheated on you. Did you cheat on her? Break your vows?”