truth is, seeing you again, I realize Candee was right. I wasn’t over you.”
“That’s what happened?” she asked, shocked, but also reassured that she hadn’t been alone in her own misery.
“I thought I was over you. I wanted to be and I fought like hell to prove it to her, but once she got that idea in her head, she wouldn’t let go.” His eyes burned at her, his voice rough.
“I’m sorry, Dylan.”
“Me, too. More than I can say. I hurt Candee. I should have figured it out. I should have known.” He looked so troubled she wanted to cup his cheek, but she held back.
“Maybe if we’d talked back then...”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t have worked. We needed perspective. We needed for what happened not to matter so much. We needed to be friends.”
He was right, though she got that panicked feeling again. She wanted to say. Wait. Don’t write us off. Maybe we’re not done.
Of course they were done. Weren’t they?
“It’s imprinting. That’s the trouble.”
“Excuse me?”
“Like with ducklings. They imprint on whatever creature they see when they hatch. A dog, a person, a goat. We were each other’s first love. We got imprinted.”
“Okay...”
“Plus we were young...drenched in hormones.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Tingly and shaky and floating on air,” she continued. “It felt like we’d invented sex.” Even as she was explaining it away, the feeling grew, fueled by the familiar look in Dylan’s eyes—the way he drank her in, every nuance—deciding the right moment to take her, kiss her, make her his own.
They were breathing slowly and noisily now, like the air scraped their lungs on the way out.
“Yeah. All that.” Dylan’s hands slid toward her across the table, moved in. Was he going to kiss her? Did she want that?
With every beat of her unchanged heart.
What if they had stayed together? What if they were soul mates? What kind of life might they have built together?
That poem about the two roads in a yellow wood and the one not taken came into her head, and she heard herself say, “Do you ever wonder what might have happened with us?”
“All the time,” he said hoarsely.
And that was that. Like someone had shot a starting gun, they lunged for each other and kissed. Dylan’s lips tasted smoky from the chicken, sweet from the drink, and like Dylan, the way he used to taste. He rose and so did she. Their chairs hit the tile with twin bangs and they slammed their bodies together, arms wrapped tight.
The kiss seemed to touch off a bonfire that roared through her. Everything faded except Dylan’s mouth, his arms, his chest pressed against hers, his hips, too, his erection insistent against her belly. She ached for more.
She never wanted to stop. She didn’t dare stop. Reality would land like an avalanche, dousing the fire, making them see how foolish they were acting.
But what if it was great? What if it was healing?
Dylan broke off the kiss, leaving Tara rocking forward. “This is not a good idea. It’s late. We’ve been drinking.” Neither of them had touched the second high-test drinks she’d made. Dylan had spilled half of hers on her blouse.
“Right. Good.” Better to stop now, before it got heavy. Before they went too far and there would be consequences. And there would be consequences. Good or bad, she didn’t care to risk it, no matter what her body screamed.
She looked around, saw the dishes and picked up a plate. “I’ll clean up,” she forced out.
Dylan took the plate from her. “I’ve got it. You should go. Get some rest.”
She nodded. They practically ran inside, as if they both feared if she stayed one more second they’d tear off each other’s clothes in some wrongheaded grab for the best of their past.
She snatched her purse from the floor and patted Duster, who whined piteously for her to stay. Backing toward the door, she said, “The dinner was great. Beer-butt chicken...who knew?” she babbled.
Dylan gripped the edge of the door, as if to keep himself from going after her as she backed onto the terrace. “Glad you liked it.” His eyes glowed, the pupils huge.
“When the insurance adjuster calls me back about where the Tesla is, we can get your mechanic out there.”
“Sounds good.”
“As soon as I hear, I’ll call.”
“Do that,” he said hoarsely. “Night.” He shut the door.
She stood there, staring at the door, her heart pounding. What the hell was wrong with her?
She turned, grateful for the cool October breeze on her overheated face. She looked