She's the One (16 page)

Kate and Owen’s children burst into the kitchen and the small home was filled with the sound of stomping feet. Their mother waved a hand toward a doorway to the left of the kitchen. “Boys, go play in your room and no interrupting, okay? You know the rules—blood or fire
only
. Keep an eye on Sarah, too, and let me have some girl time with Alexandra. I’ll give you each one of those lollipops we’ve been saving if you behave.”

Instead of complaining about having to care for their sister, Alex was surprised when the boys readily agreed and the three took off to their rooms.

Kate pulled out a wooden tray and gathered coffee mugs from a cabinet. “So…you and Dylan. Is it serious?”

T
AKEN ABACK BY THE QUESTION
, Alex blinked. “Um…”

“Sorry, but we don’t have time for skirting an issue when visits never last long,” the other woman said with a laugh. “And I need something to focus on besides the kids and me trying to keep up with their schoolwork. Don’t be shy. It’s obvious you two are together. I saw the way he looked at you out there. Oh, you’re blushing. How sweet is that.”

Alex put her hand to her cheek. She could feel the heat in her face and it made her feel like a girl with her first crush. But with Dylan she felt that way, all out of sorts and unsure.

“Dylan’s a good man, don’t you think?”

One of the best. In the two weeks she’d known him she knew she’d never meet another man like him. “Yes, he is.”

“So?”

So, Kate wasn’t going to drop the line of questioning until Alex answered. Too bad she didn’t know the answer. She liked Dylan, she had fun with him. But how serious could it be at this point? Three weeks? Could she really be in love with him? Half of her balked at the thought but the other half…“It’s complicated.”

“Ah, so it
is
serious,” Kate said.

Something in her expression must have given her confusion away. Kate leaned her shoulder against the doorway between the two rooms and studied her with a knowing expression. And because she couldn’t pick up the phone and call Shelby to talk out her feelings, Alex knew Kate was her best—and only—female option. “I’m here on vacation,” she said simply. “But Dylan and I started talking and connecting. We were supposed to be friends. No pressure, no promises, that’s what we agreed to.”

“And now that’s changed?” Kate asked, her tone soft with understanding.

Why did Alex find it easier to talk to a total stranger than the man making her feel this way? “My life, my
family
is in Tennessee.”

“You can build a new life. Isn’t life whatever you make it? Wherever and with whomever you make it?”

The door to the small house opened once again. Dylan stepped inside and the sight of him brought a welcoming smile to her lips.

What if that whisper wasn’t her imagination? Could her
wherever
be in Alaska? With Dylan and his son?

Feeling Kate’s gaze on her, Alex made eye contact and saw the other woman arch her eyebrow, as though Alex’s response to Dylan was her answer.

O
VER THE NEXT HALF HOUR
Alex and Kate talked while Kate prepared a dinner of soup and fresh-baked bread. Dylan listened to the women’s conversation, wondering what Alexandra thought of the Foxx’s humble abode. Did she think it too plain? Would she like a home like it? One a little fancier?

Owen leaned his chair back on its hind legs, reaching behind him to the buffet and snagging something from the top. “Look at my latest,” he said to Dylan. “Think that’ll go over well in the shops?”

Dylan picked up the elaborately carved bird, turning it over in his hands. “It’s a fine piece of work. Speaking of which, Alexandra wants to see your workshop. She admires Colt’s play set and would like to pick up some pieces for her nephews.” Dylan went on to explain how she was photographing Alaska.

“I was hoping I could take some pictures, too,” Alexandra said to Owen and Kate. “If you don’t mind. I’d love to get some photos of you working on your creations. They’re absolutely beautiful.”

“My ugly mug would break your camera,” Owen said with an embarrassment-filled but flattered glance at his wife.

“Tell you what, you let me get you in action as you work, no posing involved, and I’ll take some photos of your kids for free and send them to you. Is it a deal?”

Her ploy worked because Kate immediately turned to her husband with a pleading expression, and Dylan was transported back to that day he’d caught Alexandra photographing Colt.

Seeing Kate’s face he understood exactly what Alexandra had tried to convey that day. What parent didn’t want pictures of their children? Didn’t want to capture their child’s young years because they grew and changed so fast?

All photos of Colt had been lost in the fire and in the two years since, he hadn’t even thought of having Colt’s picture taken professionally, not only due to the flight
to Anchorage it would entail but also due to Colt’s problems. The past two years had been sad years, not happy ones. But since Alexandra’s arrival, Colt was smiling more. Playing. Dylan wanted photos to document the strides his son was making. Colt was only this age once.

He’d ask Alexandra to take some shots of Colt. Maybe even of him, Zeke and Colt together since they were three generations and they didn’t have any photos of that type. Colt’s smiles were infrequent but Alexandra could capture him playing with his wooden horses, tossing rocks into the lake. Being himself.

“I suppose I could stand there and work.” Owen’s expression softened as the big lug gave in to Kate’s look and accepted Alexandra’s offer. “The woodshop is out back. I normally wear something like this but I could change.”

“Absolutely not,” Alex said, taking in the man’s coveralls and working clothes with a sweep of her eyes. “You’re perfect just as you are.”

A surge of something hit Dylan right between the eyes. Jealousy, envy. Sadness. He wanted to be perfect in Alexandra’s eyes. Imagine that. Damaged goods like him…perfect.

D
URING HER TOUR OF
O
WEN’S
workshop, Alex purchased toy sets for her nephews, as well as a very special horse to add to Colt’s collection. Once she was back in Anchorage, she’d ship the play sets home for Christmas.

Alex hugged Kate before she climbed aboard the Cub and took her seat behind Dylan’s, sad that the day was over. Would she ever see Kate again? The thought brought another wave of indecision.

She was not only getting totally attached to Dylan, but others here, too. Zeke and Colt, Ansel and Walter, now Kate and Owen. They had fast become her friends.

Maybe even her family?

Dylan was everything she wanted in a man. So was she simply going to walk away when her three weeks were over or was she going to talk to him about how she felt? If he asked her to stay, what would she say? Yes, because she’d like to see how things would develop, where their relationship would go?

Or no, because people didn’t do those types of things after such a short amount of time. It would mean giving up everything she held dear, sacrificing so much. Too much?

She and Dylan were both quiet on the flight home, the engine droning and giving them a good excuse to not shout into the headsets at each other to be heard over the noise.

When they flew over Deadwood Mountain Lodge and she looked out the window to see the structure surrounded by nothing but water and trees and mountains, Alex was reminded of the solitary existence Owen and Kate led on the frozen tundra. Kate Foxx had been so happy for company she’d nearly been beside herself, and Alex had felt guilty leaving the lonely young mother because she could feel the other woman’s need for more companionship.

She spent a lot of time away working for
Traveling Single
but she returned home to Tennessee every couple weeks to visit. She was a gypsy, true, but she couldn’t imagine not being able to see her friends and family whenever she wanted. David was so good about letting
her schedule reviews around birthdays and celebrations, holidays.

Staying,
living
, in Alaska would mean not seeing them for very long periods of time. Months, possibly. Would she be able to agree to that?

“Look,” Dylan said.

Her gaze fastened on the landscape outside the plane’s window and she saw Colt running out into the open to stare up at them. Camera in hand, she watched.

“He’s smiling,” Dylan shouted. “Take the picture!”

She didn’t hesitate. It was quite a concession to have Dylan’s permission and she knew it represented the trust he’d placed in her. He was healing.

Alexandra captured their homecoming from the sky. Colt
was
wearing a big, happy, welcoming smile. What a glorious sight, a smile the likes of which only children can give. Her heart felt full, her chest tight.

Maybe she
could
do this. Maybe she and Kate could travel together and see the world. Maybe Dylan would ask her to stay and her family would understand why she’d say yes. Life was about compromise, right?

Dylan landed and when she exited the plane, Colt was waiting for them on the dock, hesitation etched on his little face.

On impulse she dropped to her knees and opened her arms. Colt charged forward, filling the empty space she hadn’t even known was there. She held him close, kissed his cheek and sighed.

Maybe….

D
YLAN STOPPED CHOPPING WOOD
long enough to watch Colt tug Alexandra by the hand to the rear of the lodge.
There was nothing back there but Colt’s tree house. Approximately ten feet off the ground, it had a slide and tire swing hanging from a thick limb. Was that where they were headed? It was Colt’s place, one he didn’t typically share.

Dylan anchored the ax into the chopping block with a sharp
whack
and followed at a distance. Sure enough Colt had led her to the tree house and was already waiting for her to climb up but Alexandra’s foot kept slipping on the narrow boards nailed into the tree in ladder-form.

“Sorry, sweetie, my boots are too big or something. I don’t think I’ll be able to—
Oh!
”

Dylan surprised Alexandra by gripping her slim waist and lifting her off her feet. Once she latched on to the wood, he filled his hands with her fine behind and pushed her the rest of the way, squeezing and copping a feel in the process. Laughing, the sound breathless, she rolled over onto her butt and regarded him from her perch.

“I’ll remember that,” she promised with a twinkle in her eyes. “Colt, your daddy is ornery, you know that?” She turned to regard Colt, saw the boy’s smile and pretended outrage. “
What?
You think that’s
funny?
” she asked, leaning sideways to tickle Colt.

His smile grew bigger, wider, and a short sound escaped him.

Dylan froze where he stood. A laugh. Was that a
laugh?

The sound was gone in an instant. If Alexandra heard it, she didn’t let on but when the boy snuggled into her arms and buried his head against her thick coat, Alexandra’s gaze met Dylan’s and held with meaningful intent. She’d heard it, too. She winked at Dylan, blowing him a kiss over top of Colt’s head.

Dylan reached out and caught her booted leg, held it close to his chest because he needed contact with them.

This moment, this peace, this was what he’d waited all his life to feel. Whether she knew it or not, Alexandra held his very heart in her hands.

H
ER LAST DAYS AT
D
EADWOOD
Mountain passed much too quickly as she and Dylan traveled to the last of her chosen destinations.

When the visibility was too poor to fly and the temperature too cold to travel by boat, she’d pitted her skills against all the men skeet shooting—and won, thanks to a lifetime of target practice with her family. After a lot of ribbing and jokes, she proved that nobody should mess with a Tennessee girl with a gun in her hands.

Yesterday Dylan had taken her and Colt both to tour an old abandoned mining town and showed them how to pan for gold. With every dip of the pan in the water and every smile Dylan gave her, she fell more deeply in love. Despite the cold and the snow, it was a great day, one she didn’t want to end. Which is why she’d broken her rule and joined Dylan at bedtime when he went to tuck in his son and listen to the night’s story.

As of last night when she’d downloaded and backed up her pictures for safekeeping, she’d noted that during her three weeks in Alaska, she’d taken nearly six thousand photos. Her favorites? Those of Dylan, Colt.

She had been surprised when Dylan had asked her to take photos of Colt but she supposed she shouldn’t
have been. All it had taken was time for Dylan to trust her. Considering Colt’s solemn demeanor, she’d given herself creative license and tried hard to make the photos unique since it was nearly impossible to catch Colt smiling. She strove to capture moments when Colt’s expressions revealed his thoughts and concentration. She’d also taken one of Dylan and Colt from behind, where the focus was on Dylan’s large, scarred hand holding the small unspoiled hand of his son.

Now it was time for her to return to Anchorage to tour the city. Would Dylan make her go alone? He didn’t have the excuse of ill health like Owen Foxx. She’d waited and hoped and prayed for Dylan to say he wanted to come with her. Or even to say that she
needed
to stay because he felt the same way she did and he couldn’t imagine life without her. But so far he hadn’t.

Now Alex stood in the doorway of Colt’s room and watched Dylan’s son color a horse in one of his coloring books. Her bags were packed and waiting for her in the hall, and she’d said goodbyes to Ansel and Walter before they’d left for another day of fishing, and Zeke who was in the kitchen cooking lunch.

God, give me strength. I don’t know if I can leave without making a fool of myself.

So why leave? Since when had she become a woman who waited for things to happen rather than made them happen? Why not tell Dylan she’d changed her mind, be honest about her freaked-out feelings and see what he said?

What happened to no pressure?

She wouldn’t apply pressure. If Dylan didn’t feel the same way, so be it. She’d go to Anchorage alone.

And the review?

She’d explain. She couldn’t help it if she’d come here to do a job. He’d be upset, but surely he would forgive her?

Outside, she heard the sound of a plane circling the lake to land. Sam had arrived with more guests. The noise of the plane landing caught Colt’s attention and he glanced up, spotting her in the doorway. His beautiful brown eyes were sad with awareness. He knew what today was.

Forcing a smile in case she did wind up in Anchorage alone, she moved closer to Colt and knelt on the floor. Not having a sack or bag to wrap the horse she’d purchased for Colt, she’d used a pillowcase. “Hey, it’s almost time for your dad to take me to Anchorage. I want you to know how
great
it was to meet you and play with you, Colt. You are a very special, very smart little boy and I will
never
forget you.”

Colt dropped the crayon in his hand and rolled onto his bottom, looping his arms around his drawn up knees as he stared at her.

Oh, that look, that sweet little face. She’d miss him so much. “I got you a present to say thank you for showing me around and sharing your tree house and being such a good friend. I hope you like it.” She set the pillowcase on the floor beside him. “Go on, look inside.”

The boy gave her another sad, heartbreaking glance before he unlocked his arms and reached for the package. He pulled out the horse Owen had rapidly painted to match Bandit’s markings.

“Maybe if you’re ever in Tennessee, your dad will bring you to my parents’ house to meet Bandit in person. Until then…” hope you have fun playing with this one. I had Mr. Foxx make him special, just for you.”

Colt scrambled to his feet and threw himself into her arms, nearly knocking her over. Alex closed her eyes and hugged Colt tight, trying to memorize the smell and feel of little boy sturdiness, baby soft hair and the waxy scent of crayons.

Before she could get too sentimental or emotional, Colt shoved himself out of her embrace. He tucked the wooden Bandit under his arm, grabbed the pillowcase and held up his other little hand as though telling her to wait.

Alex didn’t know what to make of his behavior, especially when Colt backed away slowly, as though afraid she’d ignore his request, then spun around and ran from the room toward Zeke’s.

What on earth?

Then Colt was back. Her gaze fell to the sack and she realized by the weightiness of it he’d placed something inside. Colt approached her with a shy smile on his face, and her heart melted on the spot.

Head down, Colt peeked out from beneath his long thick eyelashes, stopping a few inches away from her where she’d remained kneeling on the floor. He held out the sack for her to take.

“For me?” Dylan’s familiar footsteps sounded in the hall outside the door and she knew it was time to go but she wasn’t ready yet. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dylan take position by the door, his broad shoulders filling the opening. “Thank you, Colt.”

Colt glanced over at his father but immediately turned back to watch her open his gift.

“I love surprises,” she told him as she stuck her hand inside. “What is it? Huh? Oh, a book! Did you bring me a book for my flight?”

In the doorway Dylan swore, straightening to his full height. “Alexandra…”

She flipped the hardcover over to the front, surprised to see the title was by one of her father’s favorites. Books were expensive, hardcovers especially, and she felt guilty taking one of Zeke’s. “Oh, honey, I like it, but are you sure your grandpa won’t mind? This is one of my father’s favorite authors.”

Colt immediately shoved the thick sheath of bound paper over to point at the author’s photo on the back cover flap.

Alex glanced down, doing a double take at the man in the photo.

She blinked, laughed softly, but the image didn’t change and her smile faded.
Dylan?

The slant of his head could only be described as cocky. He was clean-shaven and amazingly handsome, smiling into the camera with masculine assurance. But it was definitely him.

Dylan—her Dylan—was Dylan MacGregor? The
novelist?

How many books had been bestsellers? How many movies had been made from his work? He wasn’t an A-list actor or sports figure but all the same in certain circles he was…famous.

For murdering his wife and her lover
.

For a moment the room spun and her grip on the book turned slick with the moisture on her hands. She wasn’t one of his readers, having heard from her father how gritty Dylan’s books read, but she knew who he was, she remembered. According to her father Dylan wrote with the emotion of Nicholas Sparks, the suspense of John
Grisham, the thrill of Stephen King. Which is why at a fairly young age Dylan had gained the popularity of Louis L’Amour for his fresh-voiced Western set novels, rising to fame—then crashing.

Dear God, who could forget the author who’d supposedly
set fire
to his wife and her lover?

She lifted her gaze off the jacket photo and stared at the boots on his feet, unable to believe the irony. She’d recognized those boots—a brand her father had requested after reading Dylan MacGregor preferred them—but not the man. And when her gaze lifted to meet Dylan’s, she saw the truth. All this time…All this time and he hadn’t told her?

“Colt, go see Grandpa,” Dylan ordered, his voice low. “He’s making cookies for you.”

Alex was barely aware of Colt’s head swiveling back and forth between her and Dylan, a frown pulling his eyebrows low because he knew something was wrong.

Pieces of information continued to fill her mind. Pictures, captions. She remembered newsfeeds and tabloid covers of the author in handcuffs, dark glasses covering his eyes. Photos of a toddler and the fervor generated over Dylan’s release because so many were outraged he was going to “get away with it” because his movies and books were popular. But evidence had proven Dylan’s innocence until—weren’t there rumors of an affair with the nanny?

Dylan said he hadn’t cheated.

And she believed him. But why not tell her the truth?

Like you told him the truth?

Alex hugged Colt to her again and kissed his soft cheek. Swallowing the dryness in her throat, she said,
“Thank you for the present. Now go eat a cookie while they’re warm.” She forced herself to meet Colt’s gaze and smile even though it took everything inside her to muster the effort to appear okay when nothing was and never would be again. “That’s when cookies are the best.”

With one last look, Colt ran out the door. Alex watched him go, the book in her hand as she stood on shaking legs.

“I was going to tell you. Not in the beginning, but when we began to get close.”

“But you didn’t.” And she couldn’t even be mad about that because hadn’t she done the same?

“I didn’t want my past to scare you, to scare you
away.
I wanted you to know
me,
not what others made me out to be.”

She knew him. In a way she felt she saw Dylan more clearly than he saw himself. He hadn’t told her so as not to scare her but it did. It
did.
Not because she believed he’d had anything at all to do with Lauren’s death but because she’d come to Deadwood Mountain Lodge under the guise of a vacationing photographer and
she
hadn’t told Dylan the truth of why she was there. How
sad
was that? Neither one of them had been open and truthful. They’d both been deceptive.

She knew how upset Dylan would be that her review would promote the lodge and bring in outsiders, and even now she couldn’t force herself to open her mouth and say the words because she knew it would be one more wedge between them when they already had a mountain. “Believe it or not, I understand. Your past is…huge. You needed more time to tell me the truth.”

He nodded slowly, his confusion at her easy accep
tance evident. “I had to be sure of you, of your reaction and dealings with Colt. You didn’t know me well enough to set aside the hype, and I knew if you remembered what happened—which you obviously do—you might not have believed me.”

And that was important to him. He hadn’t hurt his wife. Regardless of the evidence, she now knew Dylan well enough to not doubt that. “I believe you. I’ve always believed you.”

Relief transformed his face into a smile. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way but I’m glad it’s done. Now you know. Alexandra, I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay with me and Colt. I called my attorney when we were at the hot springs. He’s made an offer on that tract of land I told you about. We’ll leave Zeke to his entertaining and guests and we’ll build there. We can have our own life.”

She blinked at him, shaking her head slowly back and forth. That track of land flashing through her head. Build there? Stay with him
there?

After wanting Dylan to tell her how he felt, now that he was she couldn’t rid herself of the image of Kate Foxx’s stack of books, of her little house on the frozen tundra where she had only Old Maude for company.

Kate had Old Maude but Alexandra would have no one because there was no one there. That wasn’t what she wanted. That wasn’t what she wanted at all. “I can’t.
No
,” she said when he stepped forward as though to take her in his arms.

She didn’t want him to touch her. If he touched her, she might try to lie to herself again and for both their sakes someone had to say enough. Someone had to be
real. What was she thinking? She’d known him three weeks and suddenly she was going to give up everything to live in the middle of nowhere? Who
did
that? “Stop. I do believe you, Dylan, but this—this is
crazy
. It’s only been three weeks and we’ve been kidding ourselves the entire time.”

“What do you mean?”

Him. Her. How could it be so difficult to talk about something as elemental as their
identity?
How indicative was it of their true feelings if they were
both
afraid of the truth?

Three weeks wasn’t enough time for someone to choose the right paint colors for a bathroom, much less plan a future with a man she barely knew. She believed him, but was this what she wanted?

Somewhere along the line she’d gotten caught up in the moment. In the passion and fun and sweetness and tenderness, in the adventure of Alaska and Dylan and the romance of falling in love.

But more important, somewhere along the line she’d forgotten it was
just
a fling. “Neither one of us has been entirely honest, that’s what I mean.”

This was why she didn’t get involved. This was why her jet-setting, country-hopping lifestyle suited her so well. A few days here, a week there. Short periods of time that left no chance to get involved, that didn’t leave her feeling the way she did right now.

“I don’t understand. What have you not been honest about?” A dark look transformed his features. “Is there someone else? Someone waiting for you at home?”

She shook her head, hurting because this shouldn’t be this hard.

Dylan moved forward and he didn’t stop until he stood directly in front of her, his scarred hands extended but not touching her.

“What is it? Alexandra—”

“No. No, I can’t
do
this. We’ve had a great time but I’m not the person you want me to be.”