A Wedding Worth Waiting For (9 page)

“So, I'd call that a success.” Dylan opened the door on his truck for her, then went around to the other side, sliding in and starting the engine.

“So it seems. I'm just glad I didn't do anything to embarrass myself or you.” Other than when she'd choked on her tea, but she wasn't bringing that up if he didn't. “And Jillian and Nic seemed really nice. I mean, everyone did, but...”

“But Jillian has a way of making you feel welcome. I get it. She meant it, by the way, when she asked you to come visit her. She used to work at the local animal clinic and as much as she loves running the inn I think she's starting to get a bit restless staying home with the baby. At least that's what Mollie told me when she was at the rehab center the other day. I'm sure she'd like having the company.”

Sam thought back to the names that had been mentioned earlier. “Mollie is Dani's sister, right? The photographer?”

“Right. I don't know if you noticed the photos up on the wall when you came by the office the other day, but those are her work.”

“Oh, wow. They're amazing. She's really talented.”

“She is. She had a show a while back at a major gallery in Atlanta, and does some work with a Florida wildlife magazine as well as freelancing.”

“And she and Jillian are friends?”

“Jillian and Mollie both worked at Paradise Animal Clinic. Jillian's planning to go back part-time when the baby's a bit older. They and one of the veterinarians, Cassie Marshall, are like three peas in a pod. One can't sneeze without the other grabbing a tissue. In fact, right after Jillian got pregnant, Cassie did, too. She's due any day now. So far Mollie's held out, but I figure it's only a matter of time.”

“That sounds...incredible. For them to have that kind of close friendship, I mean.” She'd never had that kind of bond with anyone, other than her mother and father. And now one was gone and the other might as well be. Even if she wasn't destined to have that sort of relationship with anyone, it was nice to know it existed somewhere in the world.

“Speaking of friendships, I hope you know you've totally won over Dani. I think she likes you more than she likes me now.”

Sam laughed at his hangdog expression. “I doubt it. You two seem pretty close.” Just how close was something she kept wondering about. Surely Dani would have said something if there was any real history between the two of them, but still. She didn't have any right to be jealous, but she also didn't want to come between them if there was something going on.

“Close like siblings, and we fight like siblings, too. Just yesterday she spent twenty minutes telling me how lucky I am that you didn't just shoot me and put me out of my misery.” He glared at her. “I never should have told her that part of the story. I'm never going to live it down.”

“I don't know. Lynne at the restaurant thought it was sweet how we met.”

“Lynne's a romantic.”

“And you're not?” Where did that come from? She bit her lip, not sure if she even wanted to know the answer.

Instead of laughing her off, he shot her a glance of surprise, then took his time answering. “I don't know. I've never really thought about it. About romance, I mean. I was lucky enough to have parents that stayed together and are obviously still in love. And I have friends that have found that kind of relationship, people like Nic and Jillian. Maybe I've taken it for granted, that sooner or later I'll find the kind of love they have, without having to put any real thought or effort into it.” He chuckled, lightening the mood. “I'm not sure if that makes me a romantic or just lazy.”

“At least you believe in love and happily-ever-after.”

“And you don't?”

“Not since I was a kid. Not that I don't think people ever fall in love, or at least think they do, but in my experience it's not something you can count on. People change, feelings change. All that forever stuff sounds great in a fairy tale, but in real life it just leads to hurt feelings.” Why did that suddenly sound incredibly depressing?

“So I take it you're not waiting around for some knight on a white horse to show up and carry you off into the sunset?”

She snorted. “I'm pretty sure the inventory ran out on those a few centuries ago. Nowadays women save themselves—with a little help from their friends,” she added. It galled her to have asked for help, but she had and she might as well acknowledge it. “Thanks for that, by the way. Helping...and being my friend.”

Dylan pulled into the parking lot of her building and turned off the engine. As he had before, he came around to open her door for her, then silently walked her all the way to her front step, a tension in his movements she hadn't noticed before. Had she assumed too much by saying they were friends? Or was there something more at play?

Bracing one arm on the door above her head, he looked right at her, his face awash in the light of a harvest moon. She absently noticed a hint of five-o'clock shadow and then shocked herself by wondering what it would feel like against her skin. This wasn't supposed to be happening, this nearly electric tension that sizzled every time he got close. And yet she found herself wondering if he was going to kiss her. She wouldn't let him, would she?

Before she could figure out what, if anything, she'd do if his lips touched hers, he leaned in and planted a soft, perfectly chaste kiss on the top of her head, sighing as he straightened. “You'd better get in before the mosquitoes find you. Sleep tight.”

And then he was gone, and somehow even the moonlight seemed less bright.

Chapter Nine

D
ylan sat on the split-log fence in front of the wildlife rehabilitation center, watching the sun ease closer to the horizon. Sam was picking him up in a few minutes and he was eager to see what she'd planned for their next date. Trivia night had been his idea, so she'd insisted on picking this time, and he'd been happy to oblige. Truth be told, he didn't care where they went, as long as he got to spend time with her. It had been a long three days since their last date, and even longer nights. It had taken all his strength not to kiss her for real the other evening, and he'd been restless ever since. It didn't help that she'd been by the rehab center every day to help with the morning chores. When she'd suggested volunteering, he'd had no idea what he was getting into. The more he spent time with her, the harder it was to keep his feelings in check and their relationship within the bounds she had set. He found himself worrying about her when she was on duty and breathing a sigh of relief each morning when she showed up at the rehab center, safe and sound. His feelings were rapidly growing beyond attraction and into something much more complicated.

Adding to the confusion, he was half-convinced she was feeling the same attraction he was. More than once, he'd started to confront her about it, but pushing her like that would have betrayed the friendship she had so hesitantly accepted. He'd seen the sadness in her eyes when he'd talked about Jillian and Mollie and Cassie, and even his own friendship with Dani. Whatever curves life had thrown at her thus far, she'd handled them on her own. If he asked her for more than she was willing to give, he'd be forcing her to push him away, forcing her to be on her own again. So he'd keep his mouth shut and his hands to himself. Right now, what she needed was a friend, so that's what he would be. No matter how many cold showers he had to take.

The sound of tires on gravel carried up from the long driveway, and a minute later Sam's big truck pulled to a stop in front of him. Sliding to his feet, he brushed off his pants and walked around to the passenger side and climbed in. “So, are you going to tell me where we're going?”

She'd changed out of her uniform and looked like a cowboy's dream in tight jeans and a long-sleeved, Western-style shirt. The only thing ruining the illusion was the ball cap she wore instead of a Stetson. Seeing her this way had him wondering what she'd think of his family's ranch and the way he'd grown up. He'd sure like to see if she could ride a horse. A song lyric about saving horses and riding cowboys flashed through his mind, and he had to adjust the seat belt across his lap.

Unaware of his difficulties, Sam flashed a smug smile. “You'll figure it out when we get there.”

She drove north, taking the back roads rather than heading toward the heart of Paradise, leaving him confused. There wasn't anything out this way, other than a few trailheads that led into the wilderness area. Unless...but that couldn't be right. Not for a date.

But sure enough, a few minutes later she turned off the engine and turned to him expectantly. “So, think you're up for this?”

This
being the Palmetto Shooting Sports Club, Paradise Isle's only shooting range. The squat, cement block building was a big rectangle, the shooting galleries stretching toward the back and a lighted outdoor archery range off to the side. “You're taking me shooting? On a date?”

“Yup.” She got out, pulling on a black backpack before circling to the rear of the truck and climbing up into the bed, where a locked metal toolbox was bolted beneath the window. When she climbed back down, she had a dull gray plastic case in one hand and a rifle slung over her shoulder. He wasn't sure if he was intimidated or turned on. Probably both. Looking over her shoulder to find him still standing in the same place, she frowned. “Is this going to be a problem?”

Great, now he felt like a wuss. “No, definitely not. It just seemed like an odd place for a date.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but a lot of hunters hang out here, and they're likely to be my best resource when it comes to tips about poachers. That's if they decide they like me. If they don't, I'm going to have problems.”

He couldn't fault her logic, and he had wanted her to pick somewhere she felt comfortable. He'd just never imagined this was that place. One more facet to the jewel that was Sam. Maybe that was part of her appeal. One of the things he loved about surfing was never knowing what to expect, never knowing what the ocean might throw his way. Sam had that same way of always being herself and yet still able to surprise him. And if this was what she needed from him, he was going to give it to her. “Sounds like a plan. But you have to stop expecting people not to like you. You're a great person, and I'm sure they'll see that.”

Twenty minutes later, he realized he'd had no idea what he was talking about. Busier than he would have expected on a Wednesday night, the place was full of the kind of men who took their hunting seriously. Some wore camouflage despite the indoor location; all looked like they'd crawled up out of the Florida swamps. These were the kind of men who had been hunting and living off the land for generations, and it was obvious that they didn't think much of a woman in their midst.

Sam didn't seem surprised by their attitude. He'd have said she hadn't noticed them at all if it wasn't for a certain stiffness to her movements as she signed them in. She got ammunition for both guns and hearing protection and goggles for him. “I brought my own,” she explained. When he got out his wallet, she shook her head. “I've signed up for a membership online and get one guest pass a month. No charge.” The attendant nodded in agreement and waved them through.

Before entering the range, they stopped to don their protective gear, then went through two sets of heavy doors. The earphones muffled the sound of gunfire, but he was thankful to find he could still hear well enough to carry on a conversation. He was about to say as much when a few of the rough-looking men he'd seen in the lobby entered.

“Look at that, the girly is gonna do some shooting. Think she's got a pink gun in that case? I hear they make those now.” Laughing, the smallest of the group, a scrawny guy with a scraggly mustache, elbowed one of the other men.

“I don't think the color makes any difference when you don't hit the target,” replied the one Dylan had already mentally tagged as the leader. “But maybe it helps the ladies feel pretty while they miss.” He looked Sam up and down appreciatively, and Dylan felt the hair on the back of his neck prick up. He'd been in his share of fights, but he'd spent way too much time behind a desk lately. And there were three of them, counting the silent one that had walked in with the other two. He'd just have to keep his eyes open and hope Sam was smart enough to keep on ignoring them.

“You boys got something you want to say?” Sam's taunt echoed, and Dylan's gut clenched.

So much for ignoring them.

* * *

Sam could feel the tension radiating off Dylan, but there was no way she was going to let herself be insulted or intimidated by anyone. Right now, they didn't know who she was, and honestly probably didn't mean any harm. She'd grown up around men like this, and nine times out of ten they were more bark than bite. In her experience, the real backwoods boys were a lot more trustworthy than some of the city folks she knew, but sometimes needed a little reminding when it came to manners.

“We're just wondering what a pretty thing like you is doing in place like this.” That from the smaller one, who seemed to be the instigator.

“Hey, if the lady wants to shoot, let her shoot.” The bigger one smiled, as if doing her a favor. “She probably needs all the practice she can get, right, boys?”

They nodded, and she smiled. This was going to be too easy.

“You know, you're probably right. In fact, maybe one of you could show me how it's done?”

Dylan started to object, but she waved him off. She'd baited the trap; now she needed them to walk into it.

“Sure thing, honey.” The big one again. “I've taught these guys all they know. I'd be happy to do a little one-on-one with you. The name's Beau.”

Dylan took another step closer, but to his credit he stayed quiet and let her do the talking.

“Well, Beau it's nice to meet you. I'm Sam...Samantha.” If they were going to play the girl card, she'd use it to her advantage. “What do you think, rifles or handguns first?”

“Rifles. Long guns have a kick, but they're a bit easier to aim for beginners.”

“Whatever you say.” Trying to sound nonchalant, she ignored his patronizing tone. She'd heard far worse from the other recruits at the academy. Words weren't important here; actions were. She watched as the burly man loaded his rifle and then clipped a paper bull's-eye to a cable overhead, sending it downrange. She held her breath in anticipation as he sighted and then fired.

Reeling the target back, he was pointing to the holes scattered across the target. “See how all of them are in the colored circles? It's best if you can cluster them, like these three are, but as long as they all hit on the target you're doing pretty well.”

She nodded in real appreciation. He wasn't a bad shot, not at all. She'd seen experienced hunters sometimes miss the mark entirely, especially when they were trying to impress someone.

“All right, sugar, go ahead and give it a try.”

Already loading her weapon, a Winchester that had been her grandfather's, she barely heard him. When she handled a loaded gun, her concentration was all turned inward, on to the power that she held in her hands.

Dylan had already sent her target out, silently supporting her. She took a few slow breaths, trying to slow her heart rate. Then, with her sights locked on the target, she squeezed the trigger. Using the lever action to chamber another round, she repeated the process five more times. Each time a bullet ripped through the paper, and when Dylan pulled the target in she knew without looking that she'd nailed it.

“Hot damn! Let me see that!” Beau grabbed the paper and traced his finger over the single hole in the bull's-eye. All five bullets had pierced the paper in the same spot.

Turning to her, respect in his eyes, he let out a long whistle. “Lady, where did you learn to shoot like that?”

“Well, my father taught me the basics. The rest I picked up at the academy.”

“Whoa, you're a cop?” The men behind him looked nervously at each other at the revelation.

“I'm Officer Sam Finley with the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission.”

The man sheepishly held out a hand, regret clear as day on his face. “Well, Officer, it's nice to meet you. I hope you know we didn't mean any offense.”

She shook his hand and smiled. “None taken. And you can call me Sam.”

“Well, Sam, you're the best shot I've seen in a long time. Reminds me of...wait, did you say Finley? Are you Tom Finley's daughter?”

“Yes, sir. I told you my daddy taught me to shoot.”

“Well, that does explain it. He could shoot the wings off a mosquito. Haven't seen him around here in ages, though. If you see him, tell him Beau Griggson says hey.”

A small worm of sadness twisted through her gut, but she kept her smile bright. “Yeah, he keeps to himself most of the time. But I'll make sure to tell him if I see him.” Turning back to Dylan, she took a second to catch her breath. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, her nerves were trying to take over. Funny how challenging them had been easier than just talking with them. Hopefully she'd manage the conversation part as well as the shooting. “Beau, let me introduce you to my friend Dylan. He runs the Wildlife Rehab Center over on the other side of the preserve.”

Dylan offered his right hand, his left resting possessively on the small of her back. “Good to meet you.”

“Yeah, well, could have been better. I've heard good things about that rehab center. My little girl found an injured bird a while back and my wife and her brought it to your place. She was really upset over that bird, but you all fixed it up and got it back flying again.”

“They do amazing things over there,” Sam interjected, sensing an opportunity. “I took over a fawn the other day. Poachers got its mother, shot it from their truck, it looks like. Don't suppose you guys have heard anything about that?”

“No, ma'am.” Behind him, the other two shook their heads in agreement. “We don't take kindly to poachers. There's no sportsmanship in it.”

“That's the truth.” She pulled a card from her backpack and handed one to each of the men. “If you do hear anything, give me a call.”

“Will do. And you tell your daddy we'd love to see him out here some time.”

“I will.” Not that it would do any good. She'd made some progress today on the job front, but dealing with her father was going to be a lot more difficult.

* * *

Dylan waited until the group of hunters had moved out of earshot before confronting Sam. “That was amazing. No—you were amazing. You had that planned all along, didn't you?”

She shrugged, but her smile gave her away. “Maybe. I knew I could outshoot them.”

“Obviously.” He still couldn't get over what a marksman she was. Or was it markswoman? “But how did you know he'd be impressed, rather than just angry or defensive?”

“I didn't. I just had a hunch.”

“A hunch. You took on three large, armed men based on a hunch? You are one brave woman, Sam Finley. Remind me not to make you angry.”

She rolled her eyes. “It's a shooting range, and everyone is armed. Besides, they just look scary. Men like that have their own code of honor. Rough around the edges, yes. But not dangerous, usually.”

Usually
, she said. Most of the time he forced himself to forget the kind of danger her job entailed, but events like this made him face it head-on. He hated knowing she put herself at risk, and hated even more that there was nothing he could do about it, other than hope and pray that she could take care of herself. Tonight that had been enough. Heaven help the day it wasn't. “Well, I'm glad you were right. And it seems like you won them over. Think they'll call if they come across any information?”