Color of Loneliness (35 page)

Her heart beats faster as she sits and waits. She hears an engine start, and her heart skips a beat as she sets her laptop to the side and runs to the window. She blows out a breath when she sees Ray backing out of the driveway. She watches as Dylan loads the ladder into his truck, and she prays that he doesn’t leave. Knowing that he toiled up on the roof while she tried to write just a few floors below him made her work difficult today.

When Dylan walks towards the house, she drops the curtain and grins from ear to ear, throwing open the door before he can knock. “Hi,” she says, smiling, trying not to sound too excited and happy.

He gives her a crooked grin, his eyes soft. “Hey,” he replies. His hair sticks up messily, and dirt smudges appear not only on his cheekbone but also down the front of his flannel shirt. He looks exhausted.

“Would you like to come in?”

He rubs his hand over his neck. “I’d love to, but I better not. I need to take a shower. I kinda smell like shit.”

Her smile falters. “Oh. Okay.”

He closes the space between them. With their bodies inches apart, his face turns intense and his eyes smolder. Reaching his hand out, he grabs hers, rubbing his thumb softly in her palm. “Thank you. I’d stay if I wasn’t nasty.”

She smiles, nodding.

“I better go,” he says quietly. He squeezes her hand gently before dropping it. He stares at her for a moment before he turns and walks towards his truck.

Myra’s brows scrunch together because she doesn’t want him to leave.

“Dylan, wait,” she yells, just as he reaches his truck. She quickly runs after him. He turns and stares at her, waiting for her to speak while she shivers and looks at the ground, tucking her hair behind her ears, trying to figure out what to say.

“Um, I…” she stutters unsure of how to express herself. She doesn’t know how to let him know what she feels right now. She stares into his eyes for a moment before her gaze drops to his lips. She finally gives up and reaches her hands up around his neck, bringing his face down to hers.

“I don’t care if you smell,” she whispers in a breathy voice, her heart pounding hard against her ribs. A groan slips from his lips as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her body close to his.

“Myra,” he moans softly before his mouth crashes onto hers. The smell of sweat, wood and smoke assaults her senses. His tongue teases her bottom lip, desperately trying to gain access. She opens her mouth and their tongues slide against each other. One of his hands moves slowly up her back and into her hair as his lips move harder against hers, seeking more. Her hands run through the soft hair on his neck, tugging gently on the ends.

She shivers both from the cold and the sensations Dylan causes to blaze through her body. His hands move down to her ass, squeezing gently. He lifts her up and she wraps her legs around his waist as he turns and pushes her roughly up against the door of his truck. His mouth moves as he kisses his way underneath her jaw to her ear. He pants heavily against her skin. “Put your arms inside my coat,” he whispers in a rough voice. She does what he says; she unwraps her arms from around his neck and slips them inside, wrapping them under his arms and around his flannel-covered back. His body heat immediately warms her.

His lips move along her neck. She can feel his tongue darting out occasionally to leave a wet, warm trail. He sucks softly, his teeth tugging gently on her skin. His mouth moves back up to her ear. “What are you doing to me?” he says in a raspy voice, his lips and breath tickling her ear.

His hands grip her ass tighter as he grinds himself up against her, causing her to gasp. “Mm, fuck,” he moans in a deep, husky voice as he pushes his hardness against her center again. She pants as she runs her fingers up towards his shoulders and down his back under his coat, feeling his muscles flex under his shirt. His mouth finds hers again, his lips moving roughly.

Myra frowns when they are illuminated by headlights for a moment as a vehicle pulls in front of her house. “Fucking shit,” Dylan mumbles against her mouth. He pushes off of the truck and lowers her to her feet. Turning, he stands protectively in front of her as she peers around his shoulder and hears a car door slam.

CHAPTER 18

CORAL, AWAKENINGS

Dylan scowls at the police officer walking towards them. When he first turned around after getting interrupted dry-humping the hell out of Myra against his truck, he wanted to beat whoever’s ass was in that car. But now, he hopes like hell he hasn’t done anything that would get him arrested. Myra touches his hand and squeezes it. He looks down at her.

“It’s okay,” she says with a nod before she shivers and wraps her arms around herself. He slips off his coat and carefully wraps it around her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

“Hey, Myra,” the police officer says. “Sorry to interrupt. Everything going okay?” The cop suspiciously eyeballs Dylan from head to toe, focusing his gaze on his busted lip.

“Everything’s good,” Myra says. “Porter, this is my contractor, Dylan Lawson. Dylan, this is Porter Higdon. He used to be partners with my dad.”

Dylan remembers when she told her prick of an ex that she’d call some of her dad’s cop friends if he didn’t leave her alone. He wonders what happened to her dad or where he lives. It dawns on him that he really doesn’t know a damn thing about Myra, yet that didn’t stop him from basically dry-fucking her against his truck. That thought makes him feel like a real shithead.

Porter reaches his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Dylan mumbles with a nod.

“How’s the work on the house going?” Porter asks.

“Dylan’s doing a wonderful job,” Myra says as she shyly glances up at him, giving him a soft smile. Her simple compliment makes him feel all strange and happy and shit. He can’t help but smile back at her.

Porter nods. “That’s good to hear.”

“Do you want to come in?” Myra asks Porter.

“Sure, that’d be great. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to the both of you,” he says as he looks at Dylan.

Dylan frowns because he has no fucking clue what he’d want to talk to him about. He glances down at Myra who looks up at him questioningly. He shrugs and nods.

Once inside the house, Dylan and Porter sit down at the kitchen table as Myra pours them some coffee.

Porter clears his throat as Myra sits down. “Lucia’s been running that mouth of hers over at the store. Word’s gotten around that Derek paid you a visit,” he says as he looks at Myra. “I saw his face. You want to tell me what happened?” Porter’s gaze shifts back and forth between Dylan and Myra.

Myra looks at Dylan with a question in her eyes. He nods. She nods back before staring at her cup. “Derek did show up here. But Dylan took care of the situation.”

“What did Derek do?” Porter asks Myra. “Would you be more comfortable talking about this in private?”

Dylan starts to stand, but Myra puts her hand on his arm and shakes her head. “No. Please stay,” she says to him before she looks at Porter. “He just said some filthy things and then tried to kiss me. I was fighting him off when Dylan showed up.”

Porter scowls. “Why didn’t you call me? You should have called me immediately. Do you want to press charges?”

Myra shakes her head. “No. I don’t think he’ll be bothering me anymore.” She glances at Dylan, the corner of her mouth tilting upwards. Dylan feels a small smile creeping up on his face as well. He can defend Myra; he can watch out for her. And he knows without a doubt that if that motherfucker comes even close to Myra again, he’ll beat his ass to a bloody pulp.

Porter looks at Dylan. “Next time don’t let your fists take care of the situation, let the law do it, all right?”

Dylan nods in reply.

“Although, I have to admit feeling a bit of satisfaction that the boy got what was coming to him. ‘Bout time,” Porter says with a smile.

“Well, I had better get going and leave you two kids be,” Porter says as he stands. He looks at Myra. “I’ll check up on you in a few days.”

Myra nods and gives Porter a hug.

Porter turns to Dylan. “You take good care of this girl. She’s important.”

Dylan doesn’t know how the hell to respond to that so he just nods. Even though he doesn’t really know her at all, for some fucking reason, he has to agree with Porter. Myra is
important.

* * *

“I was going to heat up some leftovers. Are you hungry?”

Dylan’s eyes light up as he gives Myra a crooked grin. “Yeah.”

She can’t help but smile all the way to the kitchen as Dylan follows behind her. He sits down as she starts pulling containers out of the fridge.

“So your dad was a cop?” he asks.

She turns towards him and nods. “Yeah. He died five years ago. Some guy was robbing a convenience store, and he got shot. He was off duty. I was in college at the time.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. He was an amazing dad and a great cop. I really miss him.” She takes in a deep breath before continuing to prep some veggies.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asks.

“No. And all of my grandparents are gone. I don’t have any family left. It’s just me.”

Dylan frowns. “Not even an aunt or an uncle?”

She shakes her head. “My dad was an only child, and my mom had an older sister, but she died when I was five. She was single and didn’t have any children,” she says as she sets a salad in front of him.

He sighs heavily, staring down at the plate with his brows scrunched. “Thanks,” he mutters.

“Is iced tea okay?”

“Yeah.”

She places the drinks on the table and sits across from him. They both start quietly eating their salads. “What about your family?” she asks.

He finishes chewing his bite and takes a drink. “My parents live in Boise. I’ve got two brothers and a sister. My older brother is Chad, who’s married to Natalie – the woman you saw the other day. They have three boys and a girl on the way. They live in Boise too. Then I have an older sister, Trish, who lives with her husband in Florida. And a younger brother, Nick.”

“Wow. You have a big family.”

He nods. “They drive me fucking crazy most of the time,” he says with a smirk.

Myra stares at a piece of lettuce on her plate, moving it around with her fork. “You’re very lucky you have a family,” she tells him quietly.

Dylan clears his throat but doesn’t say anything. She looks up to see him scowling and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I always wanted to be an aunt. I…” she says then shakes her head, looking down bashfully. “Never mind.”

“What?”

She pauses for a moment. “I just, when I was younger, I used to dream about having nieces and nephews running around and calling me ‘Auntie Myra’. It’s silly, I know. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” she says, shaking her head.

He coughs before rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you work?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says with a smile, “Well, kind of. I worked as a copy editor when I lived in Philadelphia. I’m actually writing a book right now, or at least trying to. So I’m working, just not getting paid for it yet.”

“How did you end up working so far away if you’re from here?” Dylan asks.

“I went there for college. It’s where I got a scholarship. I got offered a job there right after I graduated.”

“You must be pretty smart,” he says.

Myra just shrugs and smiles.

“I bet your dad was proud,” he adds before taking a bite of his food.

“He was, and Grampie too,” she says. “The car was my present. They wanted me to have something safe while I was in school.”

“You drove that car to Philly?” Dylan asks, looking surprised. “By yourself?”

“No, dad and Grampie drove me there, and then they flew back. I’ll never forget that trip,” she says with a huge grin. “Stopping at all the towns along the way, seeing their faces once we got to Philly. It was the bes...”
Myra’s words stick in her throat. She can’t talk about it anymore. She misses them too much. Thankfully, Dylan doesn’t press her about it. They keep eating until Myra breaks the silence.

“What about you?” she asks. “Why do you live in Nyssa and not in Boise with your family?” she asks.

Dylan chokes and starts coughing.

“Are you okay?” Myra asks.

He nods as he continues coughing and takes a drink. He clears his throat roughly. “I moved here because…” He pauses and runs his hand through his hair. “Well, it has to do with shit in my past. I had to get away from everything. I don’t want to talk about this right now, all right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s all right,” he cuts her off gruffly, keeping his eyes on the table.

Myra feels terrible that she upset him. She doesn’t know what to say so she remains quiet. Awkward silence fills the kitchen as they both continue eating their salads.

“Are you finished?” Myra asks as she stands up.

Dylan nods as he hands her his plate. When he shifts in his seat again, a grimace crosses his face. “Oh. How’s your back? Would you like some pain killers?” she asks.