Kiss Me Goodnight (9 page)

“You liked the show?”

“Very much. I’d even see it again.” I still think they need some backing vocals. “I especially liked the last song. That’s where you took the name for your band?”

He nodded. “I wrote the song a few years ago.” His eyes clouded over the tiniest bit, a combination of nostalgia and melancholy.

I was about to ask him if he was okay when he tilted his head down. The right moment had finally come. He was going to kiss me. My lips tingled with anticipation. My senses came alive, attuned to every molecule of this moment.

He pulled me against him, holding me so I could feel the hard length of his thighs (yes,
thighs
, you perv) against mine. But that wasn’t enough. Taking one step forward, he moved my back against the wall. Throwing caution to the wind, I gave in to my urge to run my hands over his chest. I broke my gaze from his, putting off a moment I knew would blow away every kiss I’ve ever had.

You don’t think I’ve set my hopes too high, do you?

He was hot and damp from exerting himself on stage and packing up the equipment. It’s been far too long since I’ve reveled in having a sweaty man in my hands.

A hard, lump under his shirt caught my finger. I went to move it aside, but the clumsy part of my brain was operating at maximum capacity, and I couldn’t.

As I felt it again, discerning the shape, I realized it was a ring. He was wearing a ring on a necklace. I pulled it from under his shirt and held it to the side where I could see it better.

Dylan snatched the ring from my hand and tucked it back under his shirt, regarding me with a displeased frown.

That ring was an ice bath on my libido. I was a little stunned, and a lot pissed. My instincts were dead on. “Is that a wedding ring?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Son of a bitch. Don’t worry about the fact that he’s hiding a freaking ring? I shoved him away. “I won’t.”

Now he looked stunned. I had no plans to stick around and hear how his wife didn’t understand him or whatever manure he was planning to spread. My hands itched with invisible soil. I tried to leave, but he grabbed my shoulders.

“Lacey, it’s not what you think.”

Oh, yes. I’ve heard this one before. I responded, turning my derision on high. “I
think
it’s a wedding ring, and I’m perfectly aware of what
that
means.”

He was silent, most likely wavering between guilt and uncertainty.

I wasn’t going to wait until he could gather his favorite lies. “What? You’re not going to tell me how your wife doesn’t understand you? She doesn’t support your dreams? She’s cheating on you? The magic is gone? She’s not into sleeping with you anymore?”

He opened and closed his mouth, but all that did was set his jaw a little more stubbornly.

So, that’s how it’s going to be; he’s going to get defensive over his indiscretion. Well, if he’s going to be a loser-jerk, I’m going to stick up for a stranger with the same bad taste in men.

“She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. Vows and fidelity mean something. If you’re not into being faithful, you have no business getting married in the first place.”

Crud. I think I just handed him the perfect excuse. But he actually appeared to be thinking about what I said.

“You’re right, Lacey. Vows mean something, and if I was still married, I wouldn’t be here with you. I’d be celebrating with her.” He swallowed a lump that looked pretty painful. “Nadia died last November.”

It took a minute, but my ire turned to sympathy. He’d lost his wife less than six months ago. The ring kept her close to his heart. Was this worse than if he’d still been married? I’m not sure. I don’t know how to reconcile my sympathy with my relief and disappointment. I hope he’s telling the truth, not because I want her to be dead, but because I desperately don’t want to be the other woman again.

I stopped trying to leave. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “We went skiing in Utah last Thanksgiving. She was the better skier, so we separated for the afternoon. She went on a harder slope with a group of people and a guide. Apparently, she fell. Broke her neck. They said she felt no pain.”

This was an entirely new situation for me. I’ve only rehearsed speeches, diatribes, and comebacks for situations involving still-living spouses. I didn’t quite know what to say. Showing sympathy was fine, but I didn’t want to overdo it. I hadn’t known Nadia, and I barely knew Dylan. I waited in a way that I hoped came off as patient because I had no idea what else to do.

“Anyway, I moped around for a few months, then I decided to stop.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, an unconscious, soothing gesture. “She was the kind of person who took chances. I’d always wanted to be in a band, so I formed one. It seemed appropriate that she be here with me, if only in spirit.”

He might not be moping, but he was still grieving; that much was apparent.

I put my hand on his arm, holding it lightly on his warm skin. “I’m sure she is here with you, so we probably shouldn’t do any kissing.”

He smiled and chuckled briefly, then he parked his hand on my lower back and steered me into the main room. He didn’t kiss me until we parted ways, and that was only a short peck on the cheek.

My luck, it seemed, had only marginally improved.

Chapter Six

B
EGINNING
T
HE
F
OLLOWING
M
ONDAY
, I found out that my job at Hanover is indeed a sales position. My responsibilities include convincing businesses to stock liquors that Hanover distributes and maintaining a good relationship with them. My department is called Client Acquisition and Services.

Basically, I sell booze to bars. Over the next two months, I traveled a lot, and I found that I have a latent gift for charming people. I channeled the skills I normally use to lie into strategies for approaching prospective clients, and I walked away from the majority of my meetings with positive results.

Mr. Hanover was so impressed that he increased my commission rate. At first I wasn’t sure about the whole idea of working on commission. What if I have a bad month or get really sick? I have to work for ninety days before I’m eligible for health care. So far my job helps with rent, but not with doctor’s fees. I worry about these things, so I’ve been extra careful to wash my hands frequently.

Dylan noticed.

You thought we parted ways after I told him he shouldn’t kiss me, didn’t you?

We didn’t. He called me the next week—I gave him my number before we left The Majestic—and we chatted for a bit. We met for coffee several times, and I saw his band play three of their next four performances. In effect, over the next few months we became friendly. I wouldn’t call us friends, per se. If I was in a car accident, he’s not on the list of people I’d call. However, if I want a name for a new vibrator, “Dylan” is a good candidate.

There’s always an undercurrent of tension between us that I think people expect us to act on, but we don’t. Dylan isn’t ready for that, and I don’t want to push him. If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen. Otherwise, I’ve made a new set of buddies.

Toward the end of summer, he invited me to play softball. A few years have passed since I played softball, and I’m no longer sure about my skills. Dylan assured me that wouldn’t be a problem, so I agreed to meet him at the park. When I arrived, softball season was in full swing, and hundreds of people were warming up on twelve different diamonds. I got there on time, but it was taking me a little longer than expected to find the correct field. I was scanning the mixed-gender teams when a shrill whistle caught my attention.

Dylan waved, and I hurried in his direction. He looked different today, probably because he was wearing the team uniform. The red shorts and matching shirt shattered his bad-boy image. Now he just looked cute. Daisy tossed me a spare uniform, and I changed in one of the dirtiest bathrooms I’ve ever seen. Public parks are not as clean as they should be.

As I tied my cleats, I surveyed the field and the benches. Women, women everywhere, as far as the eye could see. Some men were in the stands, but Dylan was the only one poised to take the field.

I bent over to stretch and heard a few murmurs of appreciation. Standing slowly, I cocked my head at Dylan. “You play in a lesbian league?”

He grinned. “It’s Daisy and Audra’s team. They needed a catcher.”

I so badly wanted to make a pitcher/catcher joke, but it seemed out of place in this lady-filled environment. “How long have you been helping them out?”

“Just this season. Jessie, the regular catcher, had a baby. They needed someone to take over for a few months, and, according to my sister, I wasn’t doing anything anyway.”

He stood next to me with his hand on my lower back—friendly close, but not I-want-to-sleep-with-you close. However, I’d be lying if I denied the presence of sparks. Him still mourning his wife didn’t make him any less attractive, and it also reminded me I’d finally found a man who wasn’t attached.

Yet despite our budding friendship, I didn’t know all that much about him. I’ve decided I should change that. “What do you do when you’re not writing lyrics or practicing with the band?”

“Family counseling.”

I looked up at him, carefully considering his career choice and his apparent attraction to me. “Is it my insanity that appeals to you?”

“You’re not nuts, Lacey. You’ve got an OCD thing going on. Hand washing is a pretty mild manifestation.”

It did explain why he both let me finish my cycle of six and was adamant that I stop afterward. John treated me the same way. “Then you must be aware that washing my hands isn’t my only issue.” I said that quietly, offering him a ticket off my crazy train. He was still technically at the station, and this wasn’t a ride most people relished.

Whenever Jane or Luma need a break from me, they take one. I know they’ll be there if I need them, but sometimes I can be a bit much. John’s theory is that I act out to push people away when they’re getting too close. I prefer to think of myself as somebody who occasionally needs to be alone.

Dylan tilted his head, ruminating on his response. “Everybody has issues. You haven’t come close to cornering the market where that’s concerned.”

That was a sweet sentiment, and I wondered when the right time would be to tell him all my energy goes into controlling my urges to lie, so I don’t really try to curb my hand washing.

“Your hands are looking a little raw today. Tough week?”

Some parts had been excruciating. I’d passed up more than one opportunity to deliver a juicy fabrication. And contrary to what you’d logically think, holding back doesn’t make me feel better. “I’d prefer if you didn’t analyze me. I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.”

He stroked his hand up my back. The move was both sensual and soothing—yet another of the mixed signals he liked to give. “Noted. No shrinkage. That’s good. I’m not exactly an objective observer.”

“No?” I thought he’d remained relatively detached throughout most of our short association. Other times, he’d been unconsciously (subconsciously?) affectionate. No, I definitely wasn’t the only one on this field who had issues.

“No. Do you have plans for after the game? We all usually go out for pizza or something else that’s equally healthy.”

I didn’t get the sense that he was asking me on a date. The fact that the entire team planned to go pointed away from that prospect. So, I took the offer at face value. “Sure. I love that kind of health food.”

We lost the game, but I’d batted in one of our five runs, so I didn’t feel badly about it. They’d sacrificed me to get that woman home. The other team had simply been better. Significantly better. Holding them to nine runs was difficult, so the team celebrated that they’d only lost by four. Apparently that was a victory compared to the last time they faced that team.

Dylan sat across from me at the pizzeria. The owner, who sponsored the team’s uniforms, had set up a long line of tables down the center of his restaurant for them. Audra sat to my left, and Daisy took the seat next to her.

I remembered the little blonde well. Thankfully, my residual feelings of guilt had faded, and seeing her no longer triggered an urge to wash my hands. She’d been to all the Kiss Me Goodnight performances except that first one. Monty’s babysitter had come down with a summer cold at the last minute, so Audra had stayed home.

They must’ve had a standing order because the pizza came out minutes after we sat down. The woman to my right was tall and broad-shouldered. She had a larger build, but it was solid muscle, and her long red hair was tied back in a neat ponytail. I was pretty sure her name was Missy.

She smiled at me, a friendly one that made her hazel eyes sparkle. “So, you’re Dylan’s new girlfriend.”

Unless she’d been attuned to cues I’ve missed, that was a leap in logic. “We’re just friends.”

She lifted her brows and eyed me. “Are you playing for our team?”

I knew what she meant, but I thought it would be funnier if I pretended otherwise. “I just did. We lost.”