Not Quite Forever (Not Quite series) (10 page)

“The flight home won’t be as nice,” Walt warned her when he pulled out of her driveway early Friday morning.

“I’m surprised you found a flight at all.” Dakota wore large-rimmed sunglasses, her hair slicked back in a ponytail. She had a light sweater in her lap and a knit top that left her arms bare. Her slacks hugged her hips and moved to sensible two-inch heels. Walt’s mouth watered a little more every time he saw her. “Do you always wait for the last minute?”

“Not always . . .” He turned off her street, merged into traffic.

“So what do you do on time?”

“Work.”

“Outside of that.” Walt caught Dakota shaking her head.

“Some of my bills.”

“Automatic bill pay doesn’t count. Do you remember birthdays?”

“I remember Mother’s Day.”

“All that last-minute shopping, or booking of flights, must cost you a small fortune.”

He glanced at her, winked. “Online shopping is the bomb.”

John Wayne Airport was much smaller than LAX. Walt found the VIP parking and told them his name.

When they were whisked through security with only a metal detector and a baggage X-ray, Dakota started asking questions. “When does our flight leave?”

“As soon as we board.”

The man handling their luggage placed it on a dolly and walked away.

“Dr. Eddy?”

They both turned toward the man calling his name. He wore a pilot’s uniform and a smile.

“Trent said someone would meet us. I assume that’s you.”

“Rendell,” he said, extending his hand. “I’ll be your pilot today. Sean is on board getting the aircraft ready.”

Dakota removed her sunglasses and spun toward the massive windows that looked out on the tarmac.

“I just need to see a picture ID.”

Walt pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.

“We’re . . . you chartered a private plane?” Dakota’s voice actually dropped an octave.

Walt took her by the elbow and led her toward their flight.

“Pulled a favor. Like I said . . . the flight home won’t be as nice.”

Walt took pride in the ability to silence Dakota. The woman had a lot to say . . . but she was quiet now.

They walked straight to the small jet and climbed the short stairway into the cabin.

The plane sat six passengers, but it was only the two of them, the two pilots, and one flight attendant.

Walt guided her into a middle seat and took the one across from her. The hatch was already being shut before they buckled. “This has Monica and Trent written all over it,” Dakota finally said.

“They offer all the time but I don’t often take them up on it.”

Dakota ran her hands over the plush leather seats and crossed her legs. She completed the space and looked as if she’d ridden on a private plane many times. “I like your friends, Doc. Did I tell you Monica pushed me to the top floor of The Morisson while I was in New York?”

Walt buckled his belt, sat back. “You didn’t.”

“Penthouse with all the trimmings. When I called and told her she didn’t have to, she brushed me off.”

“Get used to it. The Morrisons and the Fairchilds are generous beyond belief.”

“I can see that. But I barely know them.”

The flight attendant wore black slacks and a white silk blouse. Her smile was genuine. “I’m Stacey. I’ll be your attendant today. As soon as we’re at cruising altitude, I’ll prepare your meals. There’s a small menu in the console. Welcome aboard Fairchild Charters. If there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Dakota’s smile grew bigger. “Thank you.”

Stacey moved to the back of the cabin and the pilot’s voice sounded through the speakers. “Dr. Eddy, Miss Laurens, we’ll be in the air within five minutes. Please remain seated with your seat belts in place until I tell Stacey it’s safe to move about the cabin. Welcome aboard.”

Dakota leaned forward and whispered. “I could get really used to this.”

“Sometimes it pays to book things last-minute.”

Dakota ordered eggs and toast and Walt asked for the works. When Stacey suggested mimosas, they both took her up on it.

“What are your parents going to think when you introduce me?”

Walt sipped his drink and dug into his eggs. “My mother’s head will spin a little. She’s not expecting you.”

“You didn’t tell her I’m coming?”

“No . . . and before you accuse me of forgetting, I didn’t. I chose not to say a thing until we get there. Twenty questions without you there would be awkward.”

The eggs were surprisingly good.
How did Stacey manage that on an airplane?

“Are we sticking to the truth? We just started dating . . . or more to the point, we keep trying to date but haven’t caught a break yet.”

Walt pointed his fork in her direction. “If we say that, my mom will try and set me up with someone even with you there.”

“So we lie.”

“We omit.”

Dakota sat back, the smile on her face drew to a soft line. “You really are using me.”

He lowered his fork.

“Be honest with me, Doc.”

He hated how much his back teeth hurt when his jaw tightened. “Truth is we haven’t caught a break. Carving this weekend out of our lives might be the best thing.”

“Or it might not.”

He didn’t like the squeeze in his chest her words created. “If we don’t work out, duping my parents over the weekend will only affect me.”

“It sounds like you’re already calling us over.” Dakota lost her smile altogether.

This conversation wasn’t working out like he’d planned. Then again, he hadn’t planned it.

“I already told you I like being single,” he reminded her. “You said the same.”

Her chest rose and fell with a slow deep breath. “You’re right . . . I did . . . and I do. No woman likes to think they’re being used. We’re going to Colorado to sneak away from our lives . . . your parents are simply a distraction.”

“Exactly.” Maybe she did understand. Then again, it sounded as if she were relaying a plot in one of her books. That thought left him flat.

She looked out the window, her expression unreadable.

“You’re upset,” he told her.

Her gaze met and pierced his.

A thousand questions were asked in the moments that passed between them . . . none were spoken.

A smile . . . the Southern kind with teeth and a complete lack of sincerity followed. Dakota lifted her glass to his. “To duping your parents and having a wonderful weekend away from work.”

He lifted his glass to hers but didn’t feel anything close to wonderful.

Chapter Eight

She was a Southerner . . . born of grit and guts and she’d be damned if she’d be derailed by Walt’s honesty, even if it cut. She’d make the most of this weekend, do it right or don’t do it at all . . . in for the penny in for the pound . . . all the clichés she avoided in her writing sprang to her head.

Dakota had no idea if Walt was with her because he really wanted to be with her, or God forbid, needed her, to get through a weekend with his parents. Or, was she a convenience? It killed her not to ask. Honesty . . . the complete kind often scared off the right guys. A part of her wanted Walt to be the right kind of guy.

Stacey removed their plates and Dakota sucked back a second drink. She wasn’t doing this weekend completely sober. Didn’t think she had it in her to.

She thought of Mary’s questions and started a short inquisition. “My parents are Baptist . . . loosely. Yours?”

“Protestant for major holidays.”

“Close enough. Do you have any siblings?”

“A sister, Brenda. Married a couple of years now. Dakota—”

She kept talking, not letting him interrupt. “I have a sister, married her high school crush . . . two nephews. All of them live close to my parents.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“If we’re deceiving your parents, it might be best to have a little more information about each other.”

“Dakota?” His gaze softened and he leaned over the space separating them and grasped her hand that rested on the arm of the plush chair.

The air in the cabin crushed in. She slid her hand from under his and stood. “I need to use the restroom before we land.”

She felt his stare as she walked away. A practiced smile reached her lips as she passed Stacey, who sat reading a book in the galley.

The bathroom was larger than any in a commercial jet, but it was still confined. She locked the door out of habit and leaned her head against it when she was alone.

You’re stupid, Dakota. Always falling before thinking.

Through all her hard exterior she never failed to leap into relationships . . . seeing romance where there was only attraction. Or falling for married men who posed as single and in love. Or wanting to find love and stumbling over sloppy kisses and weak intentions.

She wanted Walt to be different.

She had no right to be upset . . . Walt had told her he was using her to get his mother off his back, but she’d still hoped that he was joking with her. Lord knew she couldn’t care less about his title of doctor or a character profile. She had been joking about that. The doctor in her book was a woman . . . and nothing like Walt.

She left the bathroom a few minutes later, a painted smile on her lips.

The Eddy estate—and there were no other words for the world in which Walt had grown up—was massive. The property alone took up over twenty acres. The sprawling two-story ranch home overlooked a private lake with tall pines and plenty of trails for the unknowing to get lost. According to Walt, there were two guesthouses, one doubled as a boathouse and the other was a comfortable two bedroom complete with kitchen and private drive. The groundskeeper had his own home, but Walt didn’t include that as an actual living space since the same man had lived there since Walt was ten.

“A doctor’s salary didn’t pay for all this,” Dakota said as they drove the rental car up the tree-lined drive.

He glanced out the window, unimpressed with the view. “Probably not.”

“Your mother is from a rich family?”

Walt laughed. “My father came up with the design for the Eddy Clamp. It’s a device used in open heart surgery. Diverts blood flow . . .” His words trailed off. “It made him a lot of money.”

“I guess it made sense that you follow him in cardiology.”

“It did to him.”

Like the last half hour, Dakota observed more than she talked, and Walt kept glancing her way without words.

They parked behind several cars in the open driveway. Dakota pushed out of the car and moved to the trunk, where they’d placed their bags.

Walt pulled their luggage from the car and closed the trunk. When Dakota turned away, Walt caught her arm.

“Dakota.”

Her playacting smile was in place.

He frowned. “I said something on the airplane that upset you.”

She gave a swift shake of her head. “It’s OK.”

“It’s not.” There were more words on his lips but he didn’t say them. Instead, he moved his hand to the back of her head and kissed her.

Her composure lasted for a few seconds and started to melt. As much as she’d like to be unaffected by his touch, she wasn’t that strong. His lips were soft, searching . . . she sighed and pressed closer.

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke them apart.

To Walt’s credit, he kept his arm around her when he turned and faced the woman standing on the landing. “Mom.”

The woman’s tolerant gaze moved over Dakota briefly, and then to her son. She wore a pantsuit, high-end . . . probably silk from what Dakota could tell. She wore heels that seemed like overkill for a woman lounging about the house. Walt’s father’s party wasn’t until the next evening, so this was daywear for the Mrs.

Walt left the bags and urged Dakota forward. “She doesn’t bite,” he whispered in her ear.

Dakota doubted that.

The second they were in arm’s reach, Walt moved to his mother and kissed her cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

Mrs. Eddy kept one eye on Dakota through the entire exchange. “Are you going to introduce me to your . . . friend?”

“Mom, this is Dakota, Dakota, this is my mother, JoAnne.”

Dakota extended her hand and was offered a lukewarm handshake. “It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Eddy. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

JoAnne blinked several times and moved her sharp eyes to Walt. “That places me at a great disadvantage, Miss . . .”

“Laurens, but you can call me Dakota.” She waited for Walt’s mom to offer the same courtesy of using her first name, but the invitation never came.

“All right. My son was delinquent in telling me he was bringing a guest.”

“It was a last-minute decision,” Walt said. He moved to Dakota’s side and placed an arm around her waist.

For a woman who wanted her son to settle down, she was mighty chilly.

“Are we going to stand on the porch and talk all day, or can we go inside?” Walt asked.

“Of course.” JoAnne Eddy turned and started to move inside.

Walt hesitated, looked back at the bags sitting by the car.

Dakota grabbed his arm, pulled him close. “Don’t you dare leave me alone with her.”

He snapped tall, and grinned. With his free hand, he offered a mock salute.

“We prepared your old room, Walter.” JoAnne glanced over her shoulder. “I will have to shuffle others to prepare another one for your . . . guest?”

Outside of her own parents’ disapproval of how she earned money, Dakota liked to think she didn’t have an insecure bone in her body . . . but JoAnne Eddy had a way of making her uneasy.

“We’ll take the guesthouse,” Walt told his mother.

“The guesthouse is already promised to your sister.”

“The boathouse then.”

JoAnne turned, glared. “That’s hardly fitting, Walter.”

“My apartment is smaller, Mom. We’ll be fine.”

The entire exchange was cold and intimidating, and Dakota wasn’t happy with her reaction to it. Digging deep, she forced a smile to her lips and a slight accent to her voice. “Your home is lovely, Mrs. Eddy. Positively stunning.” The open-beam ceiling and mountain cabin charm, albeit huge and nothing like a cozy cabin that Dakota would prefer . . . it was beautiful. Everything from hall tables to chandeliers were oversized, heavily ornate with ironwork and western charm.

Yet it wasn’t country in any way. The mix of sophistication and culture spoke of money.

Lots of money.

Dakota hesitated at a painting in the hall. Early nineteenth century Impressionist. The piece barely fit the décor . . . yet it worked. She leaned toward Walt. “That must be one hell of a clamp.”

Walt laughed and squeezed her arm.

“Thank you. It would be nice to see my son in a home instead of that silly apartment he insists on.”

“I don’t have time for a house.” The argument sounded old.

JoAnne guided them into a great room with a massive fireplace filling one entire wall. Windows opened to a view of the lake that made Dakota’s mouth water. She could sit on the outside veranda and write for hours. “Wow.”

“Walter?” JoAnne said to the lone man sitting with glasses perched on his nose, a newspaper in his hands. “Look who’s here.”

Dr. Walter Eddy II had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, a clean-shaven jaw, and a guarded smile. His eyes had the same quality of his son’s that darkened when his gaze landed on the two of them.

“I was wondering if you’d make it.”

Dakota was surprised there wasn’t more affection than a handshake between father and son . . . but that was all that passed between them.

“I told you I would.”

“That doesn’t always mean you’ll be here.”

Walt didn’t respond to his father’s dig, and introduced her. “Dakota, this is my dad. Dad, Dakota.”

“Dr. Eddy. A pleasure.”

Handshakes said a lot about a person. Dr. Eddy’s was born of confidence without an ounce of insecurity.

“Did we know you were coming?” Dr. Eddy glanced at his wife.

“We did
not
.”

Dakota spoke up. “I hope I’m not an inconvenience.”

Walt and his father both jumped on her concerns.

“Of course not,” Walt said.

“We welcome all our son’s friends.”

Happy with the response she wanted, Dakota stood taller. “I was just telling your wife how lovely your home is.” She moved out of Walt’s reach and toward the windows with the view. “I can see why you chose this spot.”

“Winter can be difficult, but the view is always worth it.”

“I would imagine it is.”

“How long are you planning on staying?” JoAnne asked.

“We’re flying out Monday,” Walt told them.

Walt moved to her side and the room grew quiet.

Dakota gave up. “Where is that boathouse, Walt? We might as well settle.”

The boathouse had been a sanctuary when Walt was young. A place to escape his parents and be a kid.

With one bedroom, a living room, and a full bath, the boathouse was originally set up as living quarters for a groundskeeper. Over the years, a groundskeeper’s house was built away from the water. The winter months made living on the water less desirable. Even with the cast-iron fireplace, the space was freezing when the lake froze over and snow reached several feet.

Walt brought their luggage with them as he walked Dakota down toward the lake.

“I find it interesting that neither you nor your sister want to stay in the house with your parents over the weekend.”

He dropped their bags on the steps, and opened the door for her. “I’m shocked Brenda and Larry are staying here at all. I thought they’d just show up for the party and leave. If I came alone, I’d stay in the house.”

Dakota stopped, turned, and stared at him.

“At night. To sleep anyway.”

She laughed and followed him inside. “Oh!”