The Taming of the Bachelor (21 page)

D
illon was sitting outside the Container Bar swigging beer, laughing, and joking around with friends he’d known since his early twenties and he’d first moved to Austin after graduate school. It felt good to be with old friends, people who liked him for him, and could care less about Tutro.

It also felt good to unbutton his shirt an extra button and put his feet up on a low table and have a really cold bottle of beer in his hand. He’d been keeping to himself too much lately. He needed to be out with people he liked, and to remember who he was. Tutro might be an important part of his life, but it wasn’t his entire life, and by no means a definition of who he was.

“So Sheenan, do you miss Montana?” one of his friends asked, signaling to the cocktail waitress that they’d all have another round of beer.

Dillon shook his head. “No.”

“So you’re not going back anytime soon?”

“Definitely not. I’m kind of done with everything there.”

“And no girl got her hooks into you these past three years?”

Dillon opened his mouth to make a smartass reply when suddenly he spotted someone that looked a hell of a lot like Paige.

He sat forward abruptly, feet dropping to the ground, and then rose to see above a crowd that had blocked the blonde from his view.

“What’s up?” another of his friends asked, getting to his feet. “Is there a fight?”

All his friends were now on their feet. But Dillon didn’t answer, his gaze combing the street, trying to see where the blonde woman went.

After a moment he sat back down, took a long drink from his beer, and extended his legs, pretending to be blasé, and yet on the inside, his heart was pounding. Crazy. He could have sworn he saw her, which made no sense. But still, for a split second everything in him lit up, and the intensity of his disappointment made him aware just how much he cared for her.

Maybe even loved her.

H
e wasn’t with a girl or woman. He wasn’t on a date. He was with four guys who looked like Texas guys...

Paige almost cried with relief, as she ducked into the bar’s bathroom to lean against the wall of the women’s bathroom.

He wasn’t on a date.

He was with friends.

And he looked so ridiculously handsome. As well as a little thin. He’d lost weight since she’d last seen him, and he had circles under his eyes, a testament to the fact that he wasn’t sleeping. He must be working really long hours.

Her heart squeezed, and she exhaled slowly, trying to get her pulse to slow down, too, because her heart was beating like mad.

He was here. She’d found him. He was here, and she was here, and what was she going to do now?

Think, think, think...

Well, she couldn’t stay in the bathroom all night. In fact, she shouldn’t stay in here too long just in case he left.

But oh, he’d looked so gorgeous sitting outside with his friends. They were all nice enough looking but he was so big and handsome, his black hair long, a little shaggy, which she found very sexy. His strong jaw was shadowed with a couple days of stubble. It had been eye opening seeing him here in Austin with friends that weren’t from Marietta. He looked different. He looked bigger and tougher....more confident.

Now she just had to go back out and talk to him. Fingers crossed he wouldn’t be upset that she’d flown to Texas to see him.

I
t was Paige.

This time Dillon didn’t stand until she’d walked all the way through the crowd to join him and his friends. He didn’t stand out of disrespect. He remained seated so he could sit and concentrate on her. His narrowed gaze followed her intently, watching as she walked towards him.

His girl. Here.

And then she was finally at his side. “Hello, babe,” he said huskily, rising to give her a hug.

“Hey, Dillon,” she whispered, her face still pressed to his chest.

He could feel her tremble against him. She was nervous. So was he. He pulled back to see her face. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled crookedly. “You’ve been gone a couple months, and I thought maybe I should check on you, make sure things are going all right for you and Tutro.”

His chest tightened. “When did you fly in?”

“Today. Just a couple hours ago.”

“And the kids?”

“They’re with their grandparents.”

“When do you go back?”

“Sunday morning.”

He took her hand. “Then let’s get out of here.”

“What about your friends?” she protested.

“They live here,” he said, nodding to them, gesturing farewell, even as he tugged on her hand. “They’ll be fine. They’ll see me again.”

P
aige did a double take when they reached Dillon’s car. She’d expected his truck, or something similar, but instead he had a vintage sports car, a convertible that sat low, looked racy, and reeked style and money.

“What kind of car is this?” she asked, as he opened a blue door for her on the passenger side.

“It’s a 1968 Italia Spyder.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“It was made by Intermeccanica.”

“You’re speaking Greek now,” she said, flashing a rueful smile as she stepped into the low car.

He closed the door behind her. “That’s okay. Most people aren’t familiar with the maker. Let’s just say this was my dream car when I was a kid.”

“Because it was an Italian sports car?”

“Because there were only 400 of this model made between 1967 and 1973. It’s an Italian made car, but the brainchild of an American chemical engineer, Frank Reisner and his wife, Paula. They coupled Italian design with American power—” he broke off, and shook his head as he walked around to the driver’s side. “Don’t let me start. I won’t ever shut up.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off his face as he slid into the driver’s seat. She’d forgotten how gorgeous he was. And he might be thinner, but he also looked happier. “And now you own one.”

“Yes.”

“And your vintage truck, the one that needs a serious paint job?”

He started the engine. It had a deep powerful purr. “That’s still in Montana, hidden in the Sheenan barn with the other old trucks and tractors that don’t get driven very often.” Dillon glanced at her purse and then down at the floor by her feet. “Is that all you brought for a weekend? Or do you have luggage stashed somewhere?”

“I left my overnight bag at the airport hotel I checked into before taking a cab to your office.”

“Well, let’s get your bag, and then we’ll head to my place. We can grab dinner on the way.”

She felt a flutter of butterflies. She’d be staying with him tonight. “You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

He shot her a swift glance. “You’d rather stay at the hotel?”

“No, I’d rather be with you.”

His jaw eased. “Good, because I want to be with you, too.”

I
t was closing in on seven when they reached Dillon’s house on Sam Houston Circle. Paige wasn’t sure what to expect from the plain, contemporary exterior fronted by oak trees, and was then blown away by what she saw inside.

The entire back of the house was glass with a sweeping view of Lake Austin and the Texas Hill Country. The house perched on what felt like a private hillside with a completely open floor plan. Everywhere she looked there were outdoor patios and terraces and tree-shaded eating areas.

“What is that other house?” she asked, pointing to an adjacent property higher up on the hill. “Is that your neighbor?”

He shook his head as he joined her on the back stone patio, unpacking their dinner boxes onto the glass and iron table that had been custom made for the house by the same architect who designed the place. “That’s the guest suite.”

Her brows flattened, assessing the two story building. “That’s not a suite. It’s a house.”

“It is a little house,” he agreed. “It has its own kitchen, laundry, living space, plus two bedrooms and two baths. I guess the previous owner used it as a guest cottage but it could also be a caretaker house, or in-law setup, depending on what one needed.”

“And this is your place?” She couldn’t understand why he’d need such a huge piece of property with two unique homes built on it.

“I don’t own it, no. I’m just renting for the year. I’m sure my landlord would love for me to take it off his hands. He bought it from the original owner and was in the middle of a massive remodel when he and his wife divorced. They had to sell the house as part of the divorce and it had been standing empty for six months so a real estate agent I know worked out a deal that got me in here for a year, and then next winter the house goes back on the market and hopefully will sell then.”

He’d finished laying everything out for dinner and she sat down across from him at the table, wondering if she was overstepping by asking about the rent. “Is it very expensive?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really worry about it.”

She bit the inside of her lip, trying to hide her surprise by spreading her napkin on her lap.

He didn’t worry about it? What exactly did that mean? Dillon had always seemed so frugal in Marietta she’d imagined he found it a struggle making a living off the Sheenan land. But now she was thinking she’d maybe got it wrong.

She glanced around the yard with the protective cluster of oak trees and the view of the water with more trees and hills beyond. It was a private place, not unlike living on a Montana ranch, but also not that far from his work. “Would you want to buy it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Not really thinking that far ahead. I’m good here now. We’ll see how things are in February.”

“But you plan on staying here, in Austin. You don’t see yourself ever moving back to Marietta?”

He’d been plating their steaks and baked potatoes and he paused, and looked at her, his expression regretful. “No, babe. I don’t see myself heading back there to live.”