Falling for Fate (38 page)

“Now,” Fate said, pointing her fork at him. “Eat, boss man.”

Dean complied, telling Fate bits and pieces about The Wishing Star and the few trips she’d made between bites. When they both finished eating, he stood and helped her down from the boat.

“Back to the real world it is, I suppose.”

Fate nodded. “Guess so. Wonder if it missed us?”

“Doubtful. It probably didn’t even notice that we were gone.”

He kept his hand on the small of her back, surprised not only that he still felt territorial when it came to her, but that, while walking past the dock workers and a few men fishing from the pier and noticing the appraising glances that slid over Fate’s legs and arms as they peeked out from beneath a gray-and-white-striped dress, he felt even more possessive of her than before.

Keep it up, Maxwell. Soon you’ll have her locked in your office and be growling at anyone who knocks on the door.

What had Keaton called him? Oh yes. A caveman. It was beginning to feel extremely fitting.

D
ean held her hand on the drive to her apartment. The conversation flowed easily as the miles passed. They spoke more about The Civil Wars and other bands they both enjoyed. She even told him about her mom’s bouts of depression that had led to her serious aversion of all things Willie Nelson.

He told her a little more about his mom, sharing a few sweet stories from his childhood about the kind of mother Fate hoped she would one day be.

“The quotes, I love that. Did it make you sad later to realize they weren’t all originally hers?”

Dean briefly took his eyes from the road to give her a soft smile. “Nah.” He raised their joined hands and kissed the top of hers. “I think, in a way, she did it on purpose so that later, when I came across them, it would be like a reminder. She’s still with me in a lot of little ways.”

Fate squeezed his hand. He’d jokingly said that he had mommy issues in reference to the fact that he hadn’t allowed any other women to get close to him other than in the physical sense in the years since his mother had died. But Fate could see how the woman had shaped and molded his heart. Even if he didn’t realize it, she’d instilled within him the capacity to love and be loved. Hard years with his father had buried it deeper below the surface, but this weekend had brought that part of him a little closer to the surface. Just as growing closer to Dean was soothing the gaping wound in her heart that Trevor and Melissa’s betrayal had made.

She hadn’t yet told him about Trevor and what had caused her to run that day. It was time though. She knew it was. As much as she dreaded reliving the painful memory, Dean had opened up and shared so much with her that she felt safe to do the same.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, barely loud enough to be heard over the radio. “For sharing so much with me about your mom. There’s something I should tell you. Several somethings, actually.”

Dean pulled his car into a parking space on the street only a few feet from the stairs to her apartment. “Want to tell me now? Or over dinner later this week?”

His eagerness to plan a date so soon after having spent so much time together made her smile. A part of her had feared he’d be sick of her by now and she certainly wasn’t sick of him.

“It’s up to you. We can sit out here and talk now or you can come inside. Or we can discuss it at dinner whatever night this week is best for you.”

“I’d love to choose option D, all of the above, but I really should get home and prep for tomorrow’s meeting. How about dinner Friday night? Then, if you’re not terribly bored of me by then, maybe we can make a weekend of it at my place? It’s not as nice as the beach house, but it’s—”

“Yes,” she answered, cutting him off. “Yes to all of the above.”

Dean killed the engine and leaned over to kiss her. He gently brushed his lips against hers before reaching forward to place a hand on her face. “Work is going to be torture, I’m afraid.”

“I’m afraid you might be right.” She pressed her lips to his once more. “Though I’m already looking forward to next weekend.”

“Ditto,” Dean said, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

He’d explained what the word meant to him on the drive, but she could tell that he hadn’t used the word as it was intended in a long time. Hurt flickered in his eyes and she ached to soothe it. But she feared she’d make it worse before she could make it better.

“Dean,” she whispered against his lips. “There’s so much I should tell you. Maybe I should’ve already told you.”

He nipped her bottom lip before pulling back. “You can tell me anything, Fate. You know that, right?”

Fate took a deep, courage-gathering breath. “Before you…before the night I met you. Wait. No.
On
the night I met you but just before that.” It was like trying to recite a tongue twister from grade school. She didn’t know why this was so hard, but it was. She didn’t want Trevor to infiltrate what she had with Dean, didn’t want the messy, hurtful memories to seep over into her shiny, new relationship.

Everything with Dean felt new and green, like something growing in its infancy, a tiny sprig budding up from the ground. The past was like a pile of manure she didn’t want to dump on it—necessary for growth but disgusting all the same.

“Baby, whatever it is, you can tell me when you’re ready. We have all the time in the world.”

It felt like they did. But the strange urgency from the beach still seemed to sit at the door of her subconscious mind.

“Dinner on Friday, right?” She wanted confirmation because that’s when she was going to tell him everything. If he still wanted her to stay the weekend with him, then she would.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Don’t be late.” She let him break their kiss long enough to get out of the car. She waited for him this time—smiling as he came around to open her car door.

“I’m a gentleman. I’ll walk you to your door.” He offered her his hand and she took it.

Dean carried her bag up the stairs, and was mid-sentence, making a joke about her being the only woman willing to freeze to death in the ocean to get his attention, when they both froze at the landing above the stairs. A man stood at her door and he probably wasn’t there to see Gwen. Or maybe he was. With his track record, anything was possible.

“Trevor,” Fate said, feeling as if the wind had been punch out of her sails. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you because you wouldn’t answer your phone. Your roommate is a fucking lunatic, by the way.”

Her feet felt fifty pounds heavier as did her hands. Maybe that was why one of them dropped from Dean’s.

“I was out of town. Besides, I didn’t have anything to say to you.”

Dean cleared his throat loudly. “Who’s this guy, Fate?”

Fate caught her breath and tried to speak rationally as her wide-eyed gaze swung from one man to the other. Trevor didn’t matter. Dean mattered.
Focus on Dean.

“Dean, this is—”

“I’m Trevor Harris,” Trevor announced as if he were someone Dean was supposed to recognize on sight. “Fate’s fiancé.”

H
er fiancé. Well, fuck him sideways. Explained why she hadn’t ever pressed for more to their relationship.

In Dean’s experience, most women wanted more. They wanted commitments, romance, dates, and promises about the future. He wouldn’t give them those things, hence why most of his encounters were limited to one or two nights.

But an engaged woman looking for one last fling certainly didn’t need those things.

It didn’t make sense any way he looked at it. If she was engaged, why had she given her virginity to him? But then maybe she’d gotten engaged after their one night. His head throbbed from questions pounding the hell out of it.

He examined every single sentence she’d spoken that he was capable of recalling. She’d said that it was complicated—that she didn’t need anything more, and that she was happy to take it one day at a time.

One day at time until when? Her wedding day?

The weekend had certainly given birth to some type of hope that maybe what he and Fate had could be different than what he was used to. The feelings he’d developed for her were real, and the problem with that was that, when he realized she didn’t return them, it hurt like a son of a bitch.

Dean smirked at the skinny bastard Fate was currently glaring at. The desire to punch him in the face was becoming the most prevalent one, but Dean took a step back. Whatever he’d stumbled into with her was messy, clearly complicated, and something he no longer wanted any part of. Dean didn’t really do complications—he hadn’t before and he had no plans to start now. Working with her was complication enough. There was an animalistic urge growing in his chest that made him want to tell the other guy to go to hell, that she was his now and he’d fight to the death for her. But he’d never been that guy, and adding a fiancé to the mix was just outright insanity. So he decided to take a hard pass on the entire situation.

“I can see you two have a lot to talk about. I’ll leave you to it.” He handed Fate her bag without meeting her eyes. The thought of looking into them now and knowing another man would be the one waking up to them every morning just pissed him completely off.

“Dean, wait—”

He didn’t wait.

He could imagine what she might be going to say. Probably the same types of things he’d be saying if he had been busted in this situation. She was having doubts, or her and her fiancé had taken a break, or she wanted one last fling—and honestly, that’s exactly what Dean had offered. So that’s what she’d get.