Only in My Dreams (20 page)

He shut his laptop and stood just as the door to the office swung open. Sara stepped inside and Dylan's body reacted instantly. She looked fresh and beautiful, dressed in skinny jeans and a light ivory sweater with ankle-high boots that made her legs look impossibly long. And sexy.

She glanced at him, but looked away quickly. “Hey, I came by to pick up my hoodie. I left it in the basement the other day.”

“It's there.” He pointed toward the coat rack to the left of the door. “I just sent you an e-mail.”

She pulled the hoodie down and laid it over her arm. “Oh? How's everything going?”

“We're finishing up demo today, but we may have to knock off a little early with the storm coming in.”

“Yeah, that's too bad.”

The awkwardness of their stilted conversation was making him antsy. He wondered if this was what her sensory disorder felt like. “I'm going to meet with Tori next week about the underground space.”

Her fingers stroked the hoodie. “You told her your idea?”

“Yes.” Dylan frowned. He didn't want their interactions to be like this from now on. They'd been friends, hadn't they? “Listen, I want to apologize for the other day. I didn't mean to be a jerk. I hope we can go back to the way things were—coworkers and . . . friends.”

She looked at him finally, but her gaze was guarded, skeptical. “Maybe not exactly the way things were.”

The attraction. They couldn't go back to that. At least that's what he thought she meant. “I'll keep my hands to myself.”

She nodded. “I'll do the same.” Still, she didn't relax.

“Is there something else bothering you?” he asked. “I could be your friend, if you need one.”

“Family stuff. I don't really want to talk about it.”

Probably just as well she didn't want to discuss it. He wasn't exactly an expert in the family department.

Her phone rang—a chime that sounded like falling rain. She pulled it from her back pocket and glanced at the display before answering the call and putting the phone to her ear. “Hey, Craig.”

Who was Craig? Dylan wasn't sure if he should wait or give her some privacy, but she was blocking the doorway, so he didn't have a choice but to stand there. Which he perversely realized was fine with him because he wanted to know who the hell Craig was.

“Can it wait? I'm a little tied up.” She looked at the floor and toed her boot across a line in the linoleum. “Oh? Uh, okay. I'll be there in a few.” She hit the display and stuffed the phone back into her pocket.

The call had sounded important, not anything flirty, which calmed the flash of jealousy he'd felt. Little worry lines streaked across her forehead.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“I need to go meet with my assistant.”

Assistant
. He ignored the pulse of relief. “Is there a problem?”

“I'm not sure. He's been running things for me while I've been back in Ribbon Ridge. I thought he'd figured things out, but maybe not.” There was a vulnerability lurking in her clear blue eyes, and he had the urge to hug her. “Thanks for bringing my hoodie up. See you later.”

She turned and left. Dylan stopped himself before he could follow her and try to soothe whatever was causing her distress. That wasn't his job. They were tentative friends at this point.

What sort of family problems was she having? It could just be related to her brother's death. Dylan knew from losing fellow soldiers in combat that someone's death stayed with you, and he imagined it was exponentially harder when it was your immediate family. He couldn't imagine losing one of his siblings.

He scrubbed a hand over his face to banish the dark thoughts. Which left him dwelling on Sara, something else he needed to stop doing. He needed to get his head on straight—preferably without Sara Archer lodged in the dead center of it. Losing himself in a one-night-forget-fest sounded like an excellent cure for what was ailing him. And this time, he'd damn well go through with it.

After downing an energy drink from the fridge, he strode to the door and swung it open perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary. He stopped short at the top of the pair of steps and blinked. Kyle Archer was standing a few feet away. Dylan hadn't seen him in years, but they'd been on the football team together in high school and he hadn't changed that much.

Kyle smiled and raised a hand. “Hey, Dylan. Good to see you.”

“Yeah, you, too.” Dylan stepped down from the trailer. “I didn't know you were here.” Was this why Sara was upset? Kyle had been AWOL for the renovation project. Maybe his return had caused an uproar at home.

“I came in a few days ago,” Kyle said. “I wanted to check things out. Will you show me around?”

“Sure.” Dylan walked from the trailer toward the dirt track.

Kyle fell into step beside him. “I was pretty stoked to hear they'd hired you for the gig.”

“Just for the house,” Dylan kept his tone even. “They haven't hired anyone for the next phases.”

“Well, if it's up to me, I'd love to have you work on the restaurant. That's going to be my gig.”

The way that the cottage was Sara's. “I'd be happy to do it.”

“Yeah, I saw your proposal. I think they should've hired you outright.”

Dylan shook his head and looked at him askance. “Too bad you weren't here when they decided.”

“I take it they've shared their irritation with me.” His voice had darkened.

Dylan shot him an inquisitive glance, not that Kyle could see it through Dylan's sunglasses. “Uh, no. Should they have?”

“They're all pissed at me for not being here.” Which probably did explain Sara's mood. Now Dylan found himself annoyed with Kyle on her behalf. Kyle slowed. “The best part? Now I
am
here, and they're still pissed.”

Yep, that explained it all right. “Cut them some slack. They're going through a rough time.” He was speaking for Sara, but it was true for all of them.

“So am I. My brother died, too.” He sounded defensive and sad.

“I don't think it's a contest.”

Kyle stopped. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Dylan wished he'd kept his mouth shut. “Nothing. I'm not a great confidant about this sort of thing. Family's not exactly my forte.”

“Yeah, I remember. Sorry. You're right that it's a rough time.” Kyle started walking again. “How is everyone? Your dad? Your brothers? Your stepmonster?”

Dylan chuckled. He hadn't called Angie that in years. “They're good. Cameron's working for a winery here. Sales. Luke's a vineyard manager down in Napa, and Jamie's working on his master's.”

“Bunch of losers, just like I said they'd be. Looks like the army treated you well. I was sorry to hear about you and Jess. I really thought you guys were in it for the long haul.”

“A lot of people did. But you remember her mom, right?”

Kyle winced. “How could I forget? She was the worst ‘cheer mom' in town. Freaking nightmare.” He shuddered. “Is that why you and Jess split? Her mom?”

“Partially.” Jess was particularly close to her family, which had made her separation from them difficult. To Dylan, it had simply been another instance of him coming last in a family unit. Kyle had done a nice job deflecting the conversation. Two could play at that. “Why'd you leave Ribbon Ridge?”

Kyle threw Dylan an enigmatic look. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Anyway, it doesn't matter since I'm back now.”

“I don't think your family feels that way. You said so yourself. If you're going to barge back into their lives, do it with a little finesse. And a lot of explanation.” Damn, where had all that come from? He'd already chastised himself for failing to mind his own business. And yet, here he was sticking his nose in.

They'd reached the house. Kyle turned toward him. “Seems like you know quite a bit. I passed Sara on the road when I drove in. Did she say something?”

“No.” But now Dylan wanted to ask her. “Forget I said anything. It's really none of my business.”

Kyle studied him a minute longer. He let his shoulders relax. “I appreciate you caring, for what it's worth.”

Caring about the Archers was something Dylan didn't have time for. He liked them, but his primary objective was to continue their business relationship. To that end, he'd do best to keep his trap shut. “Come inside and I'll show you around.”

Chapter Twelve

T
HE DRIVE DOWN
the hill from the monastery—rather, The Alex—could be nausea-inducing enough with its twists and turns. Throw in Craig's demand to see Sara immediately and her already unsettled insides thanks to family drama, and she was ready to hurl by the time she drove into Ribbon Ridge proper.

She parallel parked a block away from Books and Brew and stepped out of her Audi into the darkening day. Locking the car, she told herself that whatever Craig's crisis was, it couldn't eclipse the situation with her parents or Kyle's return. No, she could totally handle whatever Craig threw at her. In fact, it would probably do her good to have some major distraction.

Books and Brew was Ribbon Ridge's only bookstore. It carried every genre and hosted “Meet the Author Mondays” on the first Monday night of each month. The best part of Books and Brew was that the brew referred to beer as well as coffee. They'd arranged a deal with Archer to pour their beers, including a special variety only available there: a strawberry-infused ale called Artemis. It was Sara's favorite beer, if such a thing existed, and she idly wondered if—she glanced at her phone—eleven was too early to drink.

She saw Craig sitting at a table in front of the window, but he was staring at his iPad so he didn't see her approach. A pang of remorse stole over her. Over the past few months, their friendship had seemed to dwindle to the point that it was practically nothing. She wondered if he'd noticed because he hadn't said anything. Maybe they could catch up today.

She stepped into the shop, the bell on the door tinkling as it swung closed.

Craig looked up and offered a smile. “Hey, Sara.”

“Hi.” Sara hung her purse over the back of her chair and leaned down to hug him. “It's good to see you.”

Was his answering hug a bit cool? She decided not to overanalyze and sat down.

“Do you want to get a tea or something?” Craig knew she didn't drink coffee.

“Sure, I'll go order something at the counter in a minute. I was surprised to get your call—that you'd come all the way out here.”

He closed the flap over his iPad and set it on the table next to his coffee mug. “I was meeting with a client. That's what I wanted to talk to you about.”

They'd taken on several new clients since she'd gone on leave, but none of them were in Ribbon Ridge to her knowledge. Something about his tone and the urgency of this meeting wound her insides into a coil of apprehension. “I'm not sure I'm following you.”

Craig looked out at the street. The sun had fought through the clouds for a moment and illuminated the warm brown of his eyes and the highlights he wore in his dark brown hair. When he faced her, those familiar eyes were cool, unreadable. Sara grew even more concerned.

“I wanted to talk to you about the business. The way things are—”

She felt a moment's relief. “I know. It's not great and I really appreciate—”

He cut her off, but then she'd cut him off too. “Let me finish, 'K?”

She nodded in response, her anxiety ratcheting back up. She'd donned her favorite fidget item today—a leather bracelet she'd bought in Hawaii during college—and ran her fingers over the familiar ridges beneath the cover of the table.

He exhaled then folded his hands in his lap. “This arrangement isn't working for me. I'm doing all of the work and I'm still getting paid as your assistant.”

She'd planned to give him a bonus. And she should've done it before now. “I was going to rectify that.”

His brows arched. “A raise?”

Sara tensed the muscles in her arms. “Retroactive.”

“That's a good start,” he said. “But I also want coownership.”

“What?” Sara couldn't help her reaction. It was like the floor had disintegrated. In fact, she grasped the edge of the table with both hands and squeezed.

“I know this is a shock, but I feel very strongly about it.” He looked at her with concern, but his voice was edged with steel. It was a side of Craig she'd never seen before. Gone was the funny, effervescent guy she'd hired and become friends with. He was stoic, serious, borderline jerky now.

“Craig, this is
my
business.” She could barely process what he was asking. She'd started the business to prove herself. It had defined her adult life. She didn't want to share it.

“It
was
your business. I've done a lot of work over the past two years.”

Sara searched for words. It was like her brain was ten years old again and her senses were so overwhelmed that she simply couldn't think straight. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing for a moment. When she opened them, she saw Craig as she'd never seen him: cold, demanding, his arms crossed over his chest and his mouth pressed together so that his lips disappeared.

She took her hands from the table and clasped them in her lap, squeezing them together. “I'll come back full time. I can't share the business, but I'll give you a substantial raise and a bonus.” Though she wasn't sure she wanted to work with him after this—could she even trust him? Never mind the project and supporting her family. Could she walk away from that right now?

Craig shook his head. “I'm not asking for that. I don't want that. The client today—I signed them on my own.”

That answered the trust question. “How? Who is it?” If they were from Ribbon Ridge, Sara would at least know of them probably. Why would they sign with Craig instead of her?