away.â
Her nose scrunched up forming a little pleat at the bridge. âYou live that close?â
âOff Sebastian Hill Road.â
âI didnât realize. You are close.â
âI could walk, in fact.â He glanced up at the sky. âThough I think Iâd get drenched. Rainâs coming in again.â
She looked up. âI better get back inside.â
He tried to read her expression, but she didnât give a thing away. âDid I sway you at all?â
She twirled a bracelet around her hand and then ran her thumb across the flat side of it. âA little.â She smiled. âYouâre very passionate.â The color returned to her cheeks, but this was a deeper pink than before.
âI want this job.â With the same ferocity heâd wanted her that nightâa night that shouldâve faded in his memory. His conquestsâand he had no problem admitting thatâs what they wereâwere always one and done. Not like Sara. He wasnât going to be able to file her away or forget about her completely. Sheâd be in his face, tempting him. And, damn, he was tempted.
She returned his stare, maybe sensing his desireâboth for the job and for her. âMy dad always says to be careful what you wish for.â
A plump raindrop hit her nose, galvanizing her into action. âAck! I need to get a file from Toriâs car and get back in before it pours again. Weâll be in touch soon.â She turned to go.
âSara, wait.â
Pausing, she looked back at him over her shoulder.
âI was really sorry to hear about Alex.â
She averted her gaze. âThanks.â
There was nothing else he could say. Nothing else he could do. Except he sort of wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her, just for a moment. But he didnât. The rain started falling, and she raced to her sisterâs car. After she retrieved the file, she tossed him a lingering glance before going back inside.
Dylan retreated to his truck. By the time he buckled his seatbelt, the rain was pelting hard and fast. Puddles were already forming in the mud.
His back pocket vibrated. He pulled his phone out and saw the text from his mom: We still on for lunch tomorrow?
Lunch. Right . Mom liked to see him a couple of times a month, which shouldnât have been difficult since she only lived thirty minutes or so away, but Dylan didnât love spending time with her and knew that made him sound like a complete jerk. Out of a sense of guilt, he scheduled a lunch with her every few weeks, but often had to cancel if a job came up. Work always came first. However, since he didnât have anything scheduled for tomorrow, he supposed he should confirm. He texted her back: See you at 12:30 .
He started the truck and swung it around toward the road, windshield wipers at full tilt.
As expected, there was no response from her. No âCanât waitâ or âLooking forward to it.â There was never any sentimentality or warmth. Mom was as no-nonsense as they cameâforthright, tell-it-like-it-is, donât-expect-any-gushing. About anything. Most mothers cherished everything their kids made, and he supposed she didâin her own way. But she hadnât bothered to keep even one of the Motherâs Day presents heâd made for her in school. Sure, she put them on the mantel for a few weeks, but then they disappeared. Later on, sheâd admitted that sheâd tossed all of them because she hated clutter.
He suddenly thought of the Archers. He bet their mom kept all of their stuff, even though there were so many of them. He also thought of the good-natured ribbing between the siblings. Dylan had three half-brothers and a half-sister, and he loved each of them, but he wasnât really a part of either family. His dad, stepmom, and brothers were a unit, and his mom, stepdad, and sister were another unit. Heâd always felt like a fifth wheel. It was