A Wedding Worth Waiting For (14 page)

“You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Don't I?” Damn it, he was tired of skirting the issue. “Your father shut down his heart when he lost your mother. It wasn't right, but I guess he just was too scared to risk loving anyone else, even you, the way he'd loved her. He was afraid of being hurt again. And you're doing exactly the same thing, pushing away the one who loves you because you're terrified I might not stick around.”

“So what if I am?” Her voice broke, and he knew he was the cause. But it was too late to take it all back now. “Don't I have a right to protect myself? I've lost too much. I can't handle risking everything, not again.”

“See, here's the part you don't get. You
can
handle it—you're strong enough to handle anything. You survived your mother's death, and your father's absence, and the loss of the only home you'd ever known. No, you didn't just survive, you thrived. You pushed yourself to be the best at everything, and you succeeded.” He smiled, because the pain couldn't erase the love he felt for her. “Even if someone breaks your heart one day, you're always going to be come out on top, because that's just who you are. But until you can believe that, I guess I don't stand a chance. So hey, you win. You keep your heart all safe and sound, bound up where no one can reach it.” His hand shook at the truth of what he was saying. “And I lose. Because I'm the stupid schmuck who can't seem to help loving you.”

Sam stood, the remnants of their picnic around her, the sun shining on the tears that had slipped down her cheeks. How could one woman be both so perfect, and so broken, all at the same time? And why did he feel like a heel for making her cry, when his only crime was loving her? Wasn't love supposed to be a good thing? They should be walking on air, celebrating that they'd each found someone to care about. Instead, his gut was a pit of anger and frustration and she looked like he'd kicked her favorite puppy.

Maybe he should have waited longer to confess his feelings, but if not now, when? Right after a smoking-hot kiss had seemed like the obvious choice. But with Sam, he was beginning to realize that nothing was simple or obvious. He'd dealt with complex problems all his life, on the ranch, in school and on the job. But Sam's issues were something he couldn't reason or think all the way through. She had to do that on her own. All he could do was stick around and be there for her while she did it.

The question was, would she let him?

* * *

Sam couldn't believe she was crying again. Twice in two days, after years without shedding a single tear. What had happened to her?

Oh, yeah—Dylan had happened. He'd slammed into her life without warning, and now every way she turned he was there, poking and prodding all the sore places she'd learned to ignore. He made her feel things again. And that scared the hell out of her.

And for good reason! Look at what happened when she let her guard down—she was a basket case. Crying in public, making a scene in front of every gossip in town, just days before her boss would be arriving to evaluate her. So much for convincing everyone they were a couple.

It was pretty clear right now that any hope of having people accept her because of him was long gone. Once word got out that they'd been seen fighting, everyone would start choosing sides. And if it was a choice between the town golden boy or the chick with a badge who had the added bonus of a hermit for a father, she knew who she'd bet on.

“Sam, say something. Tell me you'll give us a chance.”

She shook her head, her mind reeling with everything he'd said. He was in love with her? How was that possible? He'd seen her flaws, how messed up she was. She couldn't trust, couldn't love, not the way he wanted her to. And just because she was afraid of getting hurt, although, yeah, she was pretty much terrified of that. But even worse was the idea of hurting him. She had to make him see that. He needed to understand that she wasn't good for him, not now, not ever.

“It's not about giving anyone a chance, Dylan. It's about doing the right thing, and acting like a grown-up, not a love-struck teenager. This is real life, not some fairy tale.”

“Don't you think I know that? My love for you is real, and so are your feelings, even if you won't admit you have them.”

“A relationship with me is a recipe for disaster.” She swiped her hair out of her face and straightened, needing him to see she wasn't going to back down. “I don't want to put either of us through that. Surely you can see that it's better to just stay friends. Friends, I can do.”

“Is this because you think I'll abandon you one day, like your father? Because I'm not him, Sam. I'm nothing like him.”

“I know, but what if I am?” she shouted, her voice cracking along with her heart. “What if I end up as cold and hard as he is?”

Dylan's eyes widened in shock. “How can you say that?”

“Because it's the truth. He wasn't always this way. He used to be caring and fun. He was an amazing father, until one day he wasn't. He just shut down, and I was left on the outside. I don't want to do that to you.” As she said the words, a load lifted. She'd harbored this secret fear for so long, longer than she could remember. Admitting it took some of the pain away, and gave her a little room to breathe. “That's why I can't do this with you. I refuse to hurt anyone the way he hurt me.”

“Don't you think that's my decision to make? I'm a big boy, and I can take care of myself.”

She shook her head, even as more tears fell. “No. I'm sorry.”

Dylan growled in frustration, looking like he wanted to throw something. Honestly, she wouldn't mind a physical outlet for some of the emotion coursing through her veins, but pitching the picnic basket across the park wouldn't do her reputation any favors. Instead she refolded the blanket she'd dropped, stacking it on top of the basket.

“So, where does that leave us now?” He sounded lost, reaffirming her decision. She'd already caused him pain; how much worse would the damage be if they'd really been in a relationship?

“We could go back to how things were. The original agreement.”

“No, we can't.”

She stopped, the finality in his voice sending waves of panic down her spine. “What? Are you worried everyone will hear about—” she gestured between them “—all of this? Because I think we could play it off as a lovers' spat.”

“No. I mean I can't. Pretending to be a couple when we could have the real thing, that's too hard. If we're going to keep seeing each other, you have to be honest with me about your feelings. We can go slow, but I can't go backward. I can't forget what it felt like to kiss you, or how you feel in my arms.”

Pain, as real as if she'd been stabbed with a knife, sliced through her. He was determined to make this as hard as possible for her, but like he had said, she was strong. “If that's what you want—”

“No, it's not what I want. None of this is what I want.” His eyes shimmered with pent-up emotion, threatening to drown them both if she didn't hold strong.

Digging her nails into her palms, she nodded, and did what she'd known was coming, from that first dinner. She left. One foot in front of the other, gaze straight ahead, her breaths coming with forced rhythm. All she had to do was keep moving. Across the lawn to her car, then to her apartment, and then on with her life. Just one impossible step after the other.

Chapter Fourteen

S
am threw her weight behind the shovel, digging deep into the layer of wood chips that lined the stall. Intrigued, the fawn she'd helped rescue watched from the other side of the fence, enjoying some outdoor time while Sam cleaned out the soiled bedding and replaced it with fresh.

Sweat trickled down her neck, an hour of hard work no match for the slight breeze that barely stirred the air today. She'd gotten a lot done, though, working out her bad mood with hard manual labor.

It usually helped, at least for a little while. She'd been coming to the rehab center daily, as she'd originally promised, despite the ending of her arrangement with Dylan. He'd been startled the first time he saw her, but had wisely kept his mouth shut. She wasn't the kind of person to back out of a contract or change the terms midstream, even if he wasn't sticking to his end of the bargain.

Over the past few days she'd gone from upset, to angry, to empty inside. Only to have the whole cycle start over again every time she saw him. Or thought about him. Or just at random times. But seeing him was the worst. He seemed to look right through her now, as if he couldn't stand the sight of her. Hard to believe that a few days ago he'd professed his love. It seems his feelings weren't quite as deep as he'd made them out to be.

No, she'd been right to keep things from progressing. If he could turn his emotions off so quickly, there couldn't have been much there in the first place. Which hurt more than she'd expected it to. The strength of her own feelings had also surprised her. She'd cried most of Sunday night, off and on, and had been on the verge of changing her mind Monday morning. Which just made Dylan's rapid about-face all the harder to take.

Angry all over again, she started scooping clean shavings into the now empty pen. Possibly with more force than was strictly necessary, but the animals didn't care. Once she was done with this chore, she needed to check next week's schedule and make sure they'd taken her off the rotation. The Outdoor Days Festival was this weekend and that was the end of her commitment.

What happened after that was anyone's guess. Since the incident at the park, she hadn't spent much time in town. Between mornings volunteering at the rehab center, long days patrolling huge swaths of Palmetto County wilderness and evenings staking out the scene of the poaching, she hadn't had the time to socialize. Or maybe she was just too chicken to find out what the latest gossip was. Surely word of their breakup had spread by now, and if people decided to turn on her she'd be out of a job by this time next week.

And probably out of a home, as well—she'd have no reason to stay if her job was gone. Her relationship with her father certainly was nothing to stick around for, and Dylan had made clear that he wasn't interested in being her friend. All or nothing, that's what he'd said, and his actions this week showed he'd meant it.

Satisfied the enclosure was ready, she unlatched the gate to the outer area and let the fawn back into his temporary home. Kicking his heels up in the thick wood shavings, the deer made a circle of the pen, then scampered over to butt his head against her.

“He's getting a bit big for his britches, isn't he?” Donna, one of the volunteers she'd gotten to know over the last few weeks, leaned on the fence watching the orphan's antics. “It's good he's being released soon. He really needs more space.”

Sam let herself out of the pen, rubbing the sore spot on her hip where the fawn's head had connected. “He's being released?”

Donna nodded. “Any day now. He's ready, and if we keep him much longer he'll end up too tame.”

“I know you're right, but I'm going to miss him.”

“Isn't this your last week, anyway?”

She nodded, feeling a heaviness settle over her. “Good point. I guess I hadn't really thought about it.” She straightened, pushing off the fence. “In fact, I'd better go inside and make sure they remembered to take me off the schedule.”

Donna grimaced. “You might want to just call in later and check. Dylan's at his desk and he's in rare form today. If he doesn't lighten up, I'm thinking of calling in sick tomorrow.”

“He's been in a bad mood? I thought it was just me he was acting that way with.”

“Not even close. He's been biting off everyone's heads all week. I'm telling you, you don't want to go in there.”

“Thanks for the warning, but I'll take my chances.” She wasn't going to let him scare her away. She'd handled far worse than a grumpy surfer in her lifetime. She was the one doing him a favor, working here. Heck, they all were. The least he could do was be civil. He probably was just upset she'd turned him down. But a bruised ego didn't give him a right to go around acting like a wounded bear. She had just as much reason to be upset as he did, and she was holding it together just fine.

Okay, maybe she wasn't quite fine. But she was the one on the verge of losing everything that meant anything to her. What had he lost, a few dates? Because no matter what he said about love, and standing by her, chances were it never would have been more than that. So if anyone was going to get to be angry, it was her. And if he pulled any crap, she was going to tell him so to his face.

If he thought she was tough before, he hadn't seen anything yet.

* * *

Dylan quickly typed out a response to yet another email, his fingers tapping out an angry rhythm. He was sick and tired of schmoozing donors, trying to squeeze another few bucks out of them every time something broke or they got another injured animal in. He was sick of all of it, really. All he did was work, and what did he have to show for it? Nothing.

He hit Send and heard the door open behind him. “Donna, I thought I said I needed a bit of peace and quiet in here? I can't get everything done if I'm being interrupted every five minutes.”

“Wow, Donna was right. You really are acting like a jerk.”

Dylan spun around in his chair, whacking his knee on the open desk drawer. Pain, in his knee and his heart, took his breath away. Every time he saw Sam, it was like a knife was being twisted, reopening the wound he didn't know how to heal.

“I'm not acting like anything.”

“Fine. I'm just here to check the schedule quick and then I'll get out of your way. But if you want any of your other volunteers to stick around you might want to change your attitude. Donna's ready to mutiny, and I bet she's not the only one.”

“So now you're the one giving me lessons in social skills? That's ironic.”

She blinked, and he saw hurt in her eyes. “Damn it, Sam, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry.”

“You should be. And you should apologize to Donna, too.”

“You're right, and I will. I've been acting like a jerk, to you and everyone else.” He forced a smile. “Can you forgive me?”

For a second he thought she was going to say no. He wouldn't blame her, either. He knew he'd been out of line, but he just couldn't seem to snap out of it. Seeing her, but not being with her, was killing him. Even now, as she stood there scowling at him, he wanted to beg her for another chance. The only thing stopping him was the memory of her crying. His desire to be with her was at war with his instinct to protect her, even from himself.

She sighed. “Fine, I forgive you. I don't want hard feelings between us.”

“Neither do I.” That was the last thing he wanted. He offered his hand. “Can we call a truce?”

“Truce.” She took his hand, and just that simple touch, the soft skin of her hand in his, was like a jolt of electricity, igniting his need all over again.

She dropped his hand as quickly as she'd taken it, and he wondered if she'd felt it, too. Rubbing her palm on her pants, she looked up at him cautiously. “Does this mean we can go back to being friends?”

He was beginning to hate that word. But he'd tried keeping his distance, towing a hard line, and all it had done was make him miserable and guilty. He'd said he'd help her, and instead he'd made things harder. He couldn't fix everything he'd ruined, and he certainly couldn't help the way he felt about her, but he could be her friend. No matter how much it hurt. “Sure. Friends.”

She smiled, and the pain eased just a bit. He'd put up with anything to see that smile. “So, you said something about the schedule?” Maybe she was going to sign on permanently?

“Oh, yeah.” She walked over to the counter and picked up a clipboard, flipping to the second page. “I wanted to be sure I wasn't in the rotation after this week. I wouldn't want anyone left in the lurch.”

So much for that idea. “No worries, I already checked. You're not scheduled after Friday.” Now he wished he'd spent more time with her this week. He only had two more mornings left with her, and he'd wasted the last three avoiding her in hopes that it would make it easier to get over her.

But there was no getting over Sam. She infiltrated his dreams, she haunted his every waking moment. She didn't have to be in the room to make him want her; he'd want her and love her, even from the ends of the earth. Pushing her away wouldn't change that. He was starting to think nothing would.

Sam cleared her throat, shifting from one foot to the other. “So, have you heard anything around town? About us, I mean?”

“Not really. But I haven't really run into anyone. I've been working late, then going straight home. The only people I've talked to are you and the staff. If there are rumors going around, none of them have come to me, but you heard Donna. I haven't exactly been open to conversation.”

“Oh, okay. I was just wondering. I guess I'll see you tomorrow.” She nervously nibbled her bottom lip and he gripped the arms of his chair. Every primitive male instinct was pushing him to taste those lips himself, to hold her and make her believe everything was going to be okay. But he wasn't a caveman and he couldn't force her to feel what he felt.

So he would respect her boundaries. He'd let her work through this on her own. And he'd hate every minute of it.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

* * *

Sam leaned against her kitchen counter, listening to the whirring of the microwave. Dinner from a box, but at least she was home for dinner tonight. She'd given up her evening stakeout—no one had showed and no one was likely to. It wasn't a great hunting spot, and whoever had shot the doe had probably just been driving through when they spotted the deer. A crime of convenience, making it nearly impossible to track down the perpetrators. The only chance she had of solving the case was for someone to turn the poachers in, and so far she hadn't received a single tip.

The microwave beeped, followed quickly by the doorbell ringing. Who on earth could that be? Maybe the landlord needed something, or a neighbor? She pulled out her dinner and set it on the counter to cool, warning Cheesy away from it with a stern look. He was known to steal people food and she didn't want the greedy cat to burn himself while her back was turned.

Hand on the lock, she stopped to look through the peephole. There was a time when her door had been always open, but law enforcement training had ended that habit. Outside, through the distorted view of the glass, she could make out a handful of people. The porch light wasn't bright enough to make out all the faces, but the one in front was definitely Dani.

Opening the door, she stared in bewilderment.

“Hey, Sam! Can we come in?”

“Um, yes. Sure. But...what's going on?”

Dani hefted a bottle of wine. “Girls' night in. We would have called, but I thought it would be more fun to surprise you.” She winked. “And I was right. You should see your face.” She maneuvered her way past Sam, and gestured to the women following behind. “Sam, meet the girls. My sister Mollie is the one with the bag of snacks, Cassie is the one that looks like she swallowed a watermelon and I think you've met Jillian already. The little munchkin on her shoulder is Jonathan.”

“And I'm Jessica, Cassie's sister-in-law,” a voice from the back piped up. As the crowd of women moved into the apartment the last in line, a young woman about her own age with a copper-toned complexion and curly, dark hair waved. “My brother Alex sent me to keep an eye on Cassie. He's convinced she's going to go into labor and deliver without him.”

Given how pregnant the strawberry blonde standing in her kitchen looked, she couldn't blame him. Catching her alarmed expression, Cassie laughed and rubbed her distended belly. “Don't worry, I promise not to give birth tonight. This is probably my last girls' night for a while, and I'm not going to ruin it. Besides, I'm the designated driver. So this baby is staying put until further orders.”

“If she says it, you can believe it,” Dani assured her as she poured glasses of wine. “Cassie is as stubborn as they come. She'll will that baby out when she's ready, and not a second before.”

“Good to know.” She took the glass of red wine Dani thrust at her. “But seriously, what are you all doing here? Not that I mind,” she added. “But I feel like I'm missing the punch line or something.”

Dani clinked her glass with Sam's, then took a large swig of the potent wine. “No punch line. We just thought you might need some company.”

Jillian stepped forward and smiled. “We heard about you and Dylan breaking up, and wanted to show our support. I know when Nic and I were having trouble, I couldn't have made it without Cassie and Mollie.” She flashed them a look of gratitude, and once again Sam found herself longing for what these women had.

“Us women have to stick together.” This was from Mollie, who looked like a younger, more casual version of her sister. In cutoffs and a T-shirt she wasn't at all what Sam'd expected of a famous photographer. “We brought wine, ice cream and pizza. And if that doesn't work, we can always go over there and beat him up for you.”