He didn’t have time for a heartbreak. Not with the last phase of his work at Ryland at a crucial point, not with his town leadership dream about to become real.
He didn’t need fresh feelings for Tara getting in the way of building a life with a woman—a life built on trust and common goals and mutual respect. He was closing in on thirty. He didn’t have time for make-believe.
“I see your point,” she said. She was hurt, he saw, but trying to hide it. She’d suggested sex and he’d declined. She had interpreted that as him not wanting her as much as she wanted him. That had been the crux of the sense of betrayal over his not going to college with her.
So he had to explain. “I’m not into casual sex and casual is the last thing I feel about you. I ruined my marriage because of how I felt about you, Tara.”
She studied him, deciding whether or not he meant what he’d just said. He’d told her the truth and it hadn’t been easy.
“I believe you,” she said softly. They were lying exactly as they had been, his hands in her hair, their bodies together, faces inches from a kiss. Without moving at all, Tara withdrew from him. Desire faded from her eyes.
It hurt like hell, so he sat up and turned to the basket. “You hungry?”
“Starving,” she said, her voice breathy with relief.
He brought out the rest of the food—crostini with three kinds of spread, Bing cherries, a couple of sodas. They both avoided the cupcakes and chips.
Layering some fig-and-prosciutto spread onto a piece of bread, Tara said, “So we went over my dad’s will yesterday.”
“Yeah?”
She paused. “There was no money for me, but I knew that going in. The thing is...he gave me his library. All his books.”
“That’s nice, I guess.” Didn’t sound like much to him.
“Don’t you get it? He noticed that I love to read.” He hated that she settled for the man’s crumbs. But he had no right to judge. His relationship with his parents hadn’t been easy, either. Parents were supposed to love you no matter what, but when he’d chosen his father over his mother, a chasm grew between Dylan and his mother that existed to this day.
Love could be fragile. He’d seen that vividly then. He’d seen it with his mother and with Tara. It was a lesson that had registered down deep.
Hell, part of the reason he’d stayed with his father might have been to prove that he loved him.
“Also, he gave me his antique shotgun,” Tara was saying, so he tuned back in. “That means he found out I was shooting...” She swallowed hard, clearly struggling. “It’s sweet and awful at the same time. He could have talked to me. Written a note or an email...something.” She smiled sadly.
“Your father—”
“It’s okay. I get it. He is who he is. My mom, too. I have to accept her as she is and go from there.”
He was startled by the change in her attitude. His heart filled with tenderness and he touched her cheek, wishing he could say something to make her feel better. “Sounds like you’re a work-at-it person after all.”
“That means a lot to hear you say that.” She kissed his palm. Their eyes locked and the air between them crackled.
Dylan pulled away, more alarmed than he’d been by their physical connection. He cared for her. He admired her courage, her determination, her big heart. She was trying to make things right with her parents, giving them both far more credit than they deserved.
They finished eating, packed up and drove home in a companionable silence. At her house, she got out of the car and came to his window. Her eyes were clear. She had color in her cheeks and a calm expression on her face.
“Thanks so much. I know you gave up work to spend the afternoon with me. I feel lots better. You always know what I need.”
“It’s good to see you happy.”
“You’re a great guy, Dylan. I see that more and more. I don’t think I realized what I had when I had you.” In her eyes, he saw longing and regret in a flash like lightning in the monsoon they’d watched from that cave long ago. She leaned in for a quick kiss, then backed up and waved at him.
He watched her in the rearview. She looked lonely standing in front of that huge house in those baggy sweats, arms folded as