The Firefly Cafe (9 page)

What if Matt was right? What if Dylan hadn’t completely blown all his chances with
Penny—but was about to, by skulking off the island with his tail tucked between his
legs?

The rough terrain of Dylan’s heart was too rocky to support a tendril of hope, but
even in the midst of his overwhelming certainty that Penny would never deviate from
her No Second Chances policy to forgive him, there was still a spark of desire to
make sure she understood why he’d lied. But was that an entirely selfish impulse to
salve his conscience, and nothing more?

He needed a ruling on this. Staring down at his hands wringing the thin cotton of
the white T-shirt that still sported a faint brown iced tea stain from that very first
day, Dylan set his jaw.

His brothers were never there for him when he was a kid. Logan could damn well offer
up some advice now.

He strode down the path whose creamy smooth paving stones he’d placed himself, and
rapped on the door of the cottage at the back of the garden. Within seconds, Jessica
Bell appeared on the front porch, with a forbidding expression on her perfectly made-up
face.

“Keep it down! If you wake him up—”

From inside the cottage, a ragged voice rumbled. “Who’s at the door, Tink?”

Without taking her accusing glare off of Dylan’s face, she called, “I’m handling it.
Go back to sleep.”

Dylan let himself into the screened-in porch, since Jessica was just standing there
scowling at him. “Tink, huh?”

It was only meant to be something to say, a quick tease to get her to smile instead
of frown, but instead, she blushed. Fascinated, Dylan tracked the progress of the
red flush through her pearly redhead’s complexion.

“That’s Jessica to you,” she said severely. “Miss Bell if you’re nasty.”

“What does Tink even mean?” Dylan had to ask.

“Tink. Tinker
bell
? Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Jessica Bell, personal assistant to the modern incarnation
of Peter Pan.” Rolling her eyes, she sauntered over to fold her long limbs onto the
floral-patterned glider. “Never mind. You’re here for romantic advice, right? I’ll
be better at that than your brother, anyway. Once I get over laughing myself sick
at the idea of a Harrington doing manual labor.”

Taken aback for a moment at how quickly Jessica seemed to have put the pieces together,
Dylan decided beggars couldn’t be choosers. Jessica wasn’t family, but she knew the
Harringtons better than most—her advice would have to do.

The whole story poured out of him as he paced the cozy confines of the little porch
whose screens he’d patched himself. In the garden, bees meandered from hydrangea to
rosebush, and the summer heat was like a humid blanket over the world.

He finished with, “So what do I do? Should I leave, like she asked? Or should I stay?”

Jessica gave a thoughtful look, but before she could answer, a rough voice came from
the doorway into the cottage. “As the immortal philosopher collective, The Clash,
noted: if you stay, there will be trouble. But if you go, it will be doubled.”

Popping off the couch like a jack-in-the-box, Jessica waved her arms at Logan as if
he were a bird who’d flown into the house. “Go back to bed! Do I have to tie you down
to get you to stay put?”

The scorching heat that entered his brother’s eyes at that made Dylan wonder if Logan
had finally found something to distract him from his lab work. But instead of diving
through the perfect opening she’d left him, Logan leaned one wiry forearm on the wall
of the house and addressed Dylan.

“Sorry if I messed up whatever scam you were running on the hot diner waitress.”

Dylan was on his feet, fists clenched, without making a conscious choice to stand.
“Don’t talk about her like that. And it wasn’t a scam, okay?”

Satisfaction stretched Logan’s wide mouth into a wry smile. “Okay. But I’m not the
one you need to convince.”

Slumping, Dylan kicked at the leg of the glider to make the thing swing back and forth.
It squeaked. He should fix that—except now he might not get the chance to fix anything
else around here. “I told her already. I mean, I apologized.”

“Did you
explain
?” Jessica asked. “Or did you give her the patented Harrington puppy eyes and expect
her to fall all over herself to forgive you?”

Dylan ground his teeth. “I don’t expect forgiveness,” he gritted out.

Jessica, who was an expert at reading between the lines of the taciturn Harrington
men, blew out a rude raspberry. “Psh, and you won’t get it, either, if you don’t even
try to tell her why you lied to her.”

“But I…” Dylan broke off, his head swimming. “I don’t know what to say to her.”

“Yes, you do.” Jessica cocked her head, considering. “She opened herself up to you,
stripped herself bare, but you were hiding behind a fake identity the whole time.
Now it’s your turn. Lay it all out for her, and hope she likes what she sees.”

“That’s the problem,” Dylan croaked, his throat achingly tight. “I kind of hate Dylan
Harrington, Bad Boy Billionaire. How can I expect someone like Penny to fall for him?”

“You’re more than the Bad Boy Billionaire,” Logan said suddenly. Dylan glanced over
to find his brother watching him with the kind of laser intensity he usually reserved
for his gadgets, eyes burning in his rough-jawed, angular face. “You know that, don’t
you?”

Bitterness soured the back of Dylan’s tongue. “Right, I’m a Harrington. Spare me the
lecture on what that entails, I’ve already heard it from Miles.”

“No.” Logan made an impatient slashing gesture with one long-fingered hand. “I meant
that you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, and a harder worker. And of
the three of us, you were always the one who charmed people, who made friends the
easiest.”

“Because I have money.”

“Because you’re a good person,” Logan snapped. “You’re fun to be around, you care
about people, you aren’t afraid to show your emotions—cripes, you’re like the hero
of one of those racy books Jessica thinks I don’t know she reads. But most of all …
you’re my brother.”

Dylan’s palms felt sweaty as he took a step toward Logan. “I haven’t felt like any
of those things in a long time.”

Pain tightened the lines at the corners of Logan’s eyes, but his smile was fierce,
a challenge. “Well then. I guess it’s about time you reclaimed your birthright, don’t
you?”

Hope and gratitude expanded Dylan’s chest like helium blowing up a balloon. He glanced
over at Jessica, who arched a brow and said, “What are you waiting for? Go strip naked
for Penny Little. Show her what you got. I have it on good authority that Harrington
men are pretty damn near irresistible, when they put their minds to it.”

Chapter 12

The ding of the bell over the diner’s door shattered Penny’s concentration. She nearly
dropped her tray.

Shooting her an alarmed look through the pass, Alonzo Chappelle wiped his hands on
his white chef’s jacket. “You have been all over the place today. Do you need a break?”

“No,” Penny said sharply, wincing when her boss stared at her. “I’m sorry. I’ll get
it together, I promise. I need the tips.”

I need the distraction.

Lonz nodded and went back to slinging hash, too backed up with orders to keep worrying
about his wait staff.

Balancing the tray carefully, Penny smiled at the man who’d ordered the steak and
eggs. Grady Wilkes was the big, rough, silent type—a bit of a loner, but a talented
carpenter. And there was a kindness in those eyes, the deep green of the maritime
forest where he’d built his cabin, that made Penny wish suddenly and fiercely that
she’d had the sense to fall for the local handyman instead of an imposter from Manhattan.

A tremor in the air made her pause, as if the very molecules she breathed in carried
messages her heart could read. With a sense of inevitability, she turned to see Dylan
Harrington standing at her shoulder.

Undeniably, the first emotion that rushed through her was a terrifying thrill of joy—but
it was followed closely by a comforting rush of rage. Tamping down the part of herself
that wanted to drink in the sight of him in his hip-hugging jeans and battered black
motorcycle jacket, Penny set her jaw. “So much for doing whatever I want. But then,
you’ve never been very interested in what would make me happy, have you?”

A muscle ticked in his temple, his eyes going dark, but he nodded. “I deserved that.
And if you still want me to go after I’ve explained, I will. But please let me at
least try to make you understand why I lied to you.”

Penny hesitated, heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings.
No second chances,
she reminded herself. “It won’t make any difference, but if it’ll get you out of
here without a scene, go ahead.”

Brows lifting, Dylan tucked his hands in his back pockets as he glanced around the
nearly full diner. Most of the patrons were staring back at him, with varying levels
of avid curiosity. This was basically the most interesting thing ever to happen during
the lunch rush.

“Oh.” Dylan cleared his throat. “Do you have a break coming up? We could go out to
the deck.”

The deck, where he’d proven how well he understood her son, and offered to help him.
But that memory threatened the foundations of the anger that was keeping her going,
so she shook it off.

Propping her tray on her hip, Penny stood her ground. “Nope. We’re doing this right
here. These people are my friends, my family. Anything you have to say, you can say
to me in front of them.”

Deep inside, a sad voice whispered,
There. Now you’ve done it, you’ve pushed him far enough. He’ll leave and you’ll be
safe again.

But Dylan didn’t leave. Instead, he planted his feet and tilted his chin down decisively,
hardening his jaw until he looked like a stone monument to courage. All conversation
in the diner had ceased by that point, every eye in the place trained on the confrontation
between the stranger they’d befriended and their favorite waitress.

Penny waited, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat.

“I lied to you,” Dylan said again, not shying away from the reality of what he’d done.
“But I never meant to hurt you. Which I know isn’t the same thing as having your best
interests at heart—as you pointed out, from the beginning, I’ve been more concerned
with what was best for me. What I wanted. And what I wanted, more than anything, was
to see where things went between us, if you had no idea that I’ve got money.”

Sucking in a breath, Penny felt her cheeks go hot. “Look, just because I work two
jobs and have to scrimp to keep my kid’s college fund going—that doesn’t automatically
make me a gold digger!”

Eyes widening, Dylan lifted a hand. “No, that’s not what I meant. When I first met
you, I didn’t know anything about you other than how gorgeous you are, and how hot
and fun the sparks between us were.”

Great, now Penny’s blush was never going to fade away. She was permanently pink in
the face.

“What I didn’t understand,” Dylan continued doggedly, “is that Sanctuary Island is
nothing like the rest of the world. Where I come from, anyone who hears my name immediately
looks at me differently. They care more about my bank account, my pointless tabloid
fame, my connections—than they do about me. But I should have known that Sanctuary
Island isn’t like that. Whatever magic you people have here, it makes everyone more
real, more open. I should have trusted that. But I couldn’t, at first.”

Penny didn’t want to be moved, but she was. Maybe Dylan’s name wasn’t what she’d thought,
but he still looked and talked like the man she’d fallen for. It was more than a little
confusing.

Taking a deep, visible breath, Dylan laid it all out. “I couldn’t trust that I would
be enough, just me, without the money, because three years ago, I found out that the
woman I loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with—all she wanted was a rich
husband. You know I have a … difficult relationship with my oldest brother. Part of
it, I already told you about, but the rest…”

He paused, visibly steeling himself. “He got me to listen in on a phone call with
Monique, to discuss the pre-nup I’d argued she didn’t need to sign. When he pressured
her, she immediately asked how much he’d be willing to pay to make her go away. She
never really wanted to marry me at all, you see. All she wanted was cash.”

Penny swallowed. The lines on his face, the rigid way he held himself—she could see
how much it cost him to share this awful piece of his past. And it explained so much
about him. She could feel herself weakening, the walls she’d built crumbling like
sand, and it scared her.

“I don’t care how much money you have,” she said, frantically shoring up her defenses
against the vulnerability in Dylan’s strong face. She lifted her chin. “There’s a
name for people who lie down for money and nothing else, and it’s not gold digger.
But I’m not sure I can forgive you for not seeing that I would never be that person.
Not at first, maybe, but after everything we shared…” Her throat closed, and she stopped
talking.

He flinched a little, and she tightened her fingers around the tray until the plastic
edge cut into her palm.

“I get that,” Dylan said, straightening his shoulders. “And I understand your stance
on second chances, but that’s exactly what I’m asking for. A chance to spend time
with you, with no lies between us, no secrets.”

Fear and temptation shuddered through her, all her limbs weighed down with the paralysis
of wanting to simultaneously fling herself into his arms and push him away. In fact,
she’d stopped paying attention to her tray, which abruptly tilted far enough for the
last remaining plate to slide off it and shatter on the café floor.

China cracked and grits splattered everywhere. For a breathless instant, Penny flinched
in horror, the old familiar nightmare rushing over her.