A Wedding Worth Waiting For (8 page)

He knocked and waited. Should he have stopped for flowers or something? It was a first date, but did the normal rules apply when the pretenses were false?

Either way, it was too late now. The door opened, and an incredibly large orange cat tried to squeeze through the opening. Dylan blocked the cat with his foot, and looked at Sam in question. “Is he allowed to go out, or is he trying to get away with something?”

She reached down and scooped the cat up before opening the door the rest of the way. “He's being a pain. He's indoors only, no matter what he tries to tell you.”

Indeed, the massive cat was meowing vehemently, as if arguing his position. Dylan shut the door behind him, and then gave the big-headed tom a scratch. “Trust me, fella, you're better off in here.”

Sam set the cat on the floor, then brushed at her shirt. “Well, that's just great. Now I'm covered in hair.”

“It looks good on you. Besides, remember where I work—animal fur is practically an accessory there.”

She gave him a skeptical look and kept picking off the orange hairs stuck to her plum V-neck T-shirt. Letting his gaze trail down, he took in her snug jeans and boots and wished again that she'd agree to date him for real.

“All right, that's as good as I can manage. Might as well get going.”

“Wow. Try not to sound too enthusiastic. This was your idea, remember.” He was starting to wonder if his ego would survive their little arrangement.

“I know.” She grabbed a small purse off the entryway table and slipped it over her shoulder. “But that doesn't mean I think it's a good idea. It's just the only one I could come up with.”

“I'm flattered, truly.”

She smiled wryly. “Sorry. It's not hanging out with you I'm worried about. It's everyone else. If yesterday's experience at the grocery store is any indication, we're going to be the main attraction tonight.”

“And you don't like being in the spotlight.” That went along with what he knew of her so far.

“Not at all. The idea of everyone looking at me, watching everything I say or do...” She shuddered.

“Honey, I've got news for you. It doesn't matter who you're with or where you go. People are going to be watching you. You're a beautiful woman and that attracts attention.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Somehow I doubt it. You're the reason I'm going to be center stage. I'm just riding your coattails.”

“Sorry, but you're a showstopper all on your own. The only thing I'm doing is making you more approachable. A gorgeous woman by herself, that's intimidating. But if you're with me, someone they already know, they'll feel comfortable coming up and being introduced. Trust me.”

With a small sigh she opened the door for them, careful to lock it after he'd followed her out. “I guess I have to, don't I?”

“No worries, Sam. I've got your back.” He'd seen how vulnerable she was, despite her law-enforcement exterior, and there was no way he was going to let her get hurt again.

Chapter Eight

M
ary's Diner hadn't changed at all in the decade since Sam had last been there. Actually, it probably hadn't changed since the day it opened. The fifties'-style decor was still spotlessly clean, with black-and-white checkerboard floor tiles, red booths and chrome accents that somehow looked both vintage and brand-new at the same time. Most days, people came and went quickly, usually blue-collar workers grabbing a quick bite or families getting a meal in between school and sport practices.

But Sunday night was trivia night—when the place turned into a Paradise hot spot. Singles looking to mingle and couples on dates would fill the tables and line up at the bar, everyone hoping to win the coveted top prize—a gift certificate for one of Mary's famous pies.

The contest didn't start until 8:00, but the tables were already filing up as friends shared an all-American meal before the competition. Dylan steered her to one of the few remaining booths, back near the kitchen, waving and nodding at people on the way. He seemed to know everyone, and she felt her smile growing tight by the time they sat down. Just like high school, when the popular kids ruled the school and she'd been lost and alone in a sea of faces.

Except this time she wasn't alone. Dylan was with her, sitting right across from her and looking like he'd stepped out a surfer magazine in his tight T-shirt and Bermuda shorts. She might feel out of place, but he was in his element. She just had to trust that he would keep up his end of the bargain.

“Hey, Dylan! Who's your friend?”

“Hi, Lynne. This is Sam Finley. She grew up here and just moved back.” He turned to Sam, then back to the waitress. “Sam, this is Lynne. She moved here a few years ago.”

“Hi, Lynne.” Sam accepted a menu, sizing up the other woman. Mid to late twenties, pretty blond hair in a loose braid, blue eyes that sparkled with curiosity. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam. What brings you back to Paradise?”

“I signed on with the FWC, and when they had an opening here I jumped on it. Nowhere else has ever felt like home, you know?”

She smiled. “I think I do. When my mom moved here, I thought she was crazy to pick such a small town to retire in. But last year I came and stayed with her after she broke her foot, and the place grew on me. I was only supposed to stay a few weeks and it's been almost two years. Now I can't imagine living anywhere else. But...enough about me. How did you two meet?”

“Sam found one of the orphaned fawns we've got over at the wildlife sanctuary.” He reached across the table and laid a hand on hers, sending tingles of awareness up her arm. “It seems I can't resist a lady in uniform.”

Pulling her hand back, Sam handed her menu back to the waitress. “Actually, we both found the deer.” She appreciated Dylan giving her the credit, but she preferred to stick with the truth. False relationships notwithstanding. “In fact, for a few minutes, I thought Dylan might be a poacher.”

Dylan gave a wry smile. “It's true. Thankfully, not only did I talk her out of arresting me, but I even got her to agree to a date.”

Sam bit her tongue. This was what she'd asked him to do, and if the look of delight on Lynne's face could be trusted it was working.

“What a great story! It's like something out of a romance novel.”

Hardly. But Dylan kicked her under the table, prompting her to reply. “Um, yeah, I guess it is.” She forced a smile. She hated lying, but if she was going to do it, she had better make it believable.

“So, what can I get you two lovebirds to eat?”

Grateful to be back on a less dicey subject, Sam ordered a burger and fries and Dylan got the meat loaf special. Two sweet teas, which Lynne poured right away, completed their order and then they were alone again.

Dylan grinned. “There, that wasn't so bad, was it?”

“Other than lying to a perfectly nice woman I just met and then getting kicked in the shin, it was just fine.” She leaned her head against the cold wood of the high-backed booth and closed her eyes. “Maybe we should just forget the whole thing.” She wasn't sure she could keep the charade up for the rest of the night, let alone another few weeks.

“Hey, don't give up now. You're tougher than that.”

She opened her eyes a fraction and watched him through the parted lids. “You think so?”

“I know so. The woman that held me, a potential poacher, at gunpoint in the middle of nowhere is no quitter.”

He had a point. She needed to treat this like just another part of her job, another challenge to overcome. Maybe if she could compartmentalize it like that, she could make it through. “You're right. I'm not a quitter. I just wish there was another way.”

“You know, if you keep saying that, you're going to hurt my feelings. Am I really that awful to be around?”

“No, not at all.” In fact, if she wasn't careful she could easily get too comfortable and forget this was just for show. He was the kind of guy every woman wanted—kind, good-looking, smart and generally just fun to be around. She liked to think that when this was over they could still be friends on some level. But even that wasn't something she could count on. People moved on, relationships changed. Better to not have expectations than to end up getting hurt. “I'm just not comfortable being dishonest.”

“And I respect that.” He leaned toward her over the table. “If I thought you were a deceitful person, I wouldn't have agreed to help you in the first place. But really, when you think about it, is what you are doing that wrong? We aren't outright lying to people. We're just letting them think what they want to think. It's not like we're claiming to be falling in love with each other, although I suppose it could come to that. I bet a fake engagement would really seal the deal.”

Sam choked, the sweet tea burning its way up her nasal passages. Love? Engagement? Dear God, what had she gotten herself into?

* * *

Dylan handed Sam an extra napkin to wipe her face, wishing he could take back his crack about the fake engagement. Obviously she was too on edge to find his lame attempt at humor anything more than horrifying. Which didn't speak well for what she thought about him, if even a
fake
engagement had her nearly choking to death in revulsion.

He mopped up the table and got them each a fresh napkin from the chrome dispenser on the table. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made fun of the situation, not when you're already upset about it.”

“No, I'm the one who's sorry. I don't know what came over me. I guess it's easy to see why I need help with my social skills. Snorting tea probably isn't proper first-date etiquette.”

“No, but technically this is our second date. Our first date was dinner at Pete's. So I think you're fine.”

She shook her head, but didn't argue. Her eyes darted around the room, as if checking to see who might have witnessed her embarrassing moment, before her gaze focused in on the microphone that had been set up in the front of the restaurant.

“Have you done the trivia here before?”

“Sure, a few times. I never do very well, but it's a fun time. Lots of good-natured competition, a little teasing, that kind of thing.”

“Sounds interesting. How does it work? What kinds of questions do they ask?”

“Questions can be about anything, really. Sports, history, pop culture, literature, science. As for how it works, they'll pass out scorecards in a minute. You can play as an individual or on a team—they award a prize for each category.”

“Ah yes, the coveted free pie. I'm surprised fights don't break out with a prize like that.” She finally seemed to be relaxing a bit.

“Who says they don't?” He winked at her. “Have you got my back if there's some kind of trivia brawl?”

“Absolutely.”

“Here you go, guys, eat up quick. Trivia's going to start soon. You are going to play, right?”

“Of course. Sam and I are a team, right, Sam?”

“You know it. But I call team captain.”

Lynne shook her head and patted Dylan on the shoulder. “I think you've got your hands full with this one. I like her—don't mess it up.”

Sam grinned around a bite of her burger.

“You know, given that I'm the only one that's played this before, don't you think it's a bit presumptuous for you to claim the title of captain?”

She shook her head and swallowed her food. “Nope. I may not have your people skills, but a quiz game is nothing more than a glorified test. And tests I'm good at.”

“Well, eat up, then, captain. You've got a reputation to uphold.”

Two rounds in, he was impressed. By the final round, he was amazed. She'd gotten every question right in the topics of history, geography, science, art and literature. He'd held his own with decent if not stellar scores in sports and pop culture, but even there she'd surprised him, knowing far more recent movie titles than he did.

“You're amazing.” She really was. What's more, she was finally enjoying herself. And a joyful Sam was truly something to behold. He wasn't the only one who'd noticed, either. He'd caught several men with their eye on her, and it wasn't her brain they were checking out.

“I guess being a nerd finally came in handy.”

“Honey, if you're a nerd, every woman in here wishes they were, too. You've been getting jealous looks for the past hour.” He picked up the menu, scanning it. “What kind of pie should we get?”

“Chocolate peanut butter. And trust me, no one is jealous of me, unless it's because of the free pie.”

“No, it's because they keep catching their men staring at you, wondering who the sexy new girl is.”

“Yeah, right. I think you meant smart, not sexy.”

“I definitely meant sexy, although smart is part of it. Guys like a woman with brains, especially when she looks like you do. Don't sell yourself short if you don't want other people to.”

She blushed and picked up the printed certificate they'd won. “Whatever. I still think they're just jealous about the pie.”

“Well, let's go collect our winnings, and let them wallow in their envy.” He grabbed the check that Lynne had left earlier and started for the register. When she opened her mouth as if to object, he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Remember, it has to look like a date. No one who knows me will believe I let a woman pick up the check, so don't make a scene, okay?”

She nodded, and he was close enough to feel the breeze from her hair and smell the scent of her shampoo. Vanilla and coconuts, that's what she smelled like. Like the coconut pie that had been his favorite since he was a kid. It took all his willpower not to move closer, to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. Instead, he settled for placing a hand at the small of her back. For a second she tensed, but at his pointed look she let him steer her through the crowd.

They had to stop every few feet to accept congratulations and a bit of good-natured ribbing, as well.

“Hey, Dylan, who's the ringer?”

“Nic, hey, man!” He shook hands with his friend, and gave a quick, one-armed hug to the woman at his side. “Are you telling me your wife hasn't already told you? Because there's no way Mollie hasn't filled her in yet.” The other woman reddened in acknowledgment. “Sam, this is Nic and Jillian Caruso. Jillian is best friends with Mollie, Dani's sister.”

Jillian held out a hand to Sam. “Guilty as charged. Sorry, we really don't mean to be such gossips. But everything I've heard about you is nice, I promise.”

Sam returned the handshake and offered one to Nic, as well. “I understand. Remember, I grew up here. Although I think I'd managed to forget about that particular aspect of small-town life while I was gone. You're the ones that bought the Sandpiper, right? I saw something about it in the newspaper when I was visiting last fall.”

Jillian nodded. “About a year ago. You should come over one day and visit. I don't get out as much now that I've got little Jonathan keeping me busy, but we could have coffee and cake on the deck. I remember what it's like to be the new person in town—although I guess you're not really new. Either way, I'd love the company.”

Sam agreed to visit, and Dylan could tell she was as taken with Jillian as everyone else was. One of the kindest women he'd ever met, Jillian had come to town as a foster child and had dedicated her life to making Paradise the kind of place anyone would want to call home.

Nic glanced at his watch nervously. “All right, you ladies will have to get to know each other some other time. We've got a baby to get home to.”

Jillian swatted him. “We've been gone less than two hours, and your parents are more than capable.” Turning to Sam and Dylan, she continued, “It's our first time out without the baby, and he's a bit nervous.”

“Johnny's only a month old! Babies are still very delicate at that age,” Nic argued.

Jillian rolled her eyes. “Carusos aren't delicate. But I'm dying to see him, too, so we can go. Hope to see you guys again soon. You look great together.”

Watching them leave, Dylan felt a tug of envy. Nic had found a true partner in Jillian, and she in him. Together they were more than the simple sum of their parts; they made each other better. He'd never thought much about what it would be like to have that for himself, but looking at the woman at his side, still glowing with pride from their win, he realized he might like to find out.

* * *

Sam took a deep breath of salt-tinged air as they walked outside. The temperature had cooled down since they'd gone in, and the slight chill felt good on her flushed skin. The diner had been crowded, and between the excitement of winning and the stress of meeting so many new people, she'd started to feel a bit overheated. Thankfully everyone had been nice, congratulating her on her win, with a few calling it beginner's luck and demanding a rematch next week.