PERFECT (10 page)

Dylan’s tongue ran
across his lips. “I get the feeling you’re just like me. You’re not the
‘love-them-one-night-and-leave-them-in-the-morning, with a phone number for a
deli on Main Street’ kind of woman.”

“True.” She
relaxed her arms, realizing where he was headed with the conversation. “So
you’re thinking we need to keep things friendly.”

“Yes. If I kiss
you again, I’m afraid we wouldn’t stop with a kiss or two.” It was his turn to
blush. “I don’t want either one of us to get hurt. And I also don’t want Tom
pissed at either of us. We’re going to see each other again when Tom and
Allison get married. You know he’s going to ask her, right?”

She nodded,
feeling a bit jealous of her friend. In a few years, he had established a
successful business, made great friends, remodeled a beautiful home, and found
love. He had the solid foundation for a happy life.

“I’d rather we
were friends and had a great time celebrating with them, and not spend time
avoiding each other at the occasion. With that said, if you don’t want to help
me today, I completely understand. I’ll take you back to Tom’s. No hard
feelings, but I can’t—”

She smiled. He was
right. She wasn’t a woman to throw caution to the wind and just have a good
time without thinking about the consequences. Having an affair with Dylan
wouldn’t do either of them any good. She was only going to be here for a week
or so before she had to go back to South Carolina, to her world and her
business. If nothing developed in the relationship, other than some really hot
sexual encounters—yes, there was no doubt in her mind sex with Dylan would be
scorching— how would she feel later, when she came to visit Tom again and ran
into Dylan? And what if this mountain man found someone else and got married?
And had some kids of his own? How would she look his wife and children in the
eye without feeling regret?

The word slipped
right in there like a sucker punch to the gut. She would regret not being the
one to share his life. She mentally picked up an eraser and scrubbed the
thought from her mental board. It was best not to go there in the first place.

“You’re sweet man.
You know that? And you just made me like you even more. But I agree. We’re not
what the other needs in a long-term relationship.” She stuck out her hand. “So
friends it is.”

Dylan blew out a
breath and returned her smile. “I wasn’t sure how you would take what I had to
say.” He shook her hand. “Friends.”

“Now, let’s go.”
She pointed toward the road. “We’re losing precious time. Your nieces will get
home before we’re done decorating.”

Five minutes later
they pulled up to Dylan’s brother’s home. A wide porch anchored the entire
front of the two-story home. Crystal-dappled snow draped in soft swoops across
the rooftops and bowed the miniature evergreens planted in the buried
landscape. The view reminded her of Christmas card, without the decorations.
Well, there were some decorations. A fake pine wreath that had seen better days
and a few strings of lights draped from the porch railings in a haphazard
fashion. Dylan really did need help. “Nice place.”

“I’ll tell Bob and
Elizabeth you said so.”

“You’re going to
tell them about me?”

“If I don’t, I’m
sure the girls are going to babble all about you.”

“You’re going to
introduce me to the girls?”

“Sure.” The door
moaned as he pushed it open. He rounded the truck and took her hand as she
stepped from the floorboard. “Watch your step. The sun hits here late in the
afternoon, so it tends to melt and refreeze, making it a bit slippery. I spread
ashes, but you still need to be careful.”

Darcy kept a hand
on the truck as they rounded to the back end. Dylan unlocked the hatch and
opened it. He’d hidden the decorations there. Choosing her footing carefully,
she followed him up the sidewalk and onto the front porch. Once inside, they
sat the packages on the sofa.

Already feeling
the warmth of the home, she unwound the scarf from her neck and removed her
gloves. Her zipper sang as she slowly slid it open. “This is a lovely home. I
love the fireplace. I think those tiny snowflakes will look perfect sprinkled
among greens.”

Dylan threw his
coat over a chair and then snapped his fingers. “I forgot about the greens.
It’ll only take me a few minutes to cut some.”

“Back home, we
just run to the corner vendor,” Darcy said, stuffing her gloves and scarf into
a coat arm and hanging the parka over the wing of the same chair.

“Well, here, we
cross the yard.” He chuckled while rubbing his hands together.

They stood feet
apart.

Both suddenly felt
the draw Dylan had spoken about rise between them.

Remembering their
agreement to remain friends, they broke their gazes at the same time.

Dylan clapped his
hands together. “Let’s go up to the attic and see what we can find and that you
might want to use. Then while you get started unpacking everything, I’ll go cut
the greens.”

“Sounds like a
plan,” Darcy responded and followed him out of the room and up the stairs. She
couldn’t help but admire the way his jeans fit. It was okay to look as long as
she didn’t touch.

As he hurried past
the bedrooms, Dylan chattered about how his sister-in-law and brother had
pretty much gutted the whole house and remodeled the place one room at a time.

Darcy’s steps
slowed, admiring the hominess of every room. One day, maybe she’d have a home
like this and a family whose pictures she’d display in every room, including
the hallway, just as Elizabeth Kincaid had done.

Three hours later,
Christmas carols floated through every room by way of the surround-sound system
Bob had installed during his remodel of the place. Darcy had said the music
would give her inspiration. She was right. The house was coming together better
than he had imagined.

Feeling a weight
lifting from his shoulders, Dylan whistled a holiday tune. He strolled into the
living, carrying a tray of sandwiches and mugs of warm cider. “Wow. This looks
amazing.” He turned and pointed to the fresh evergreen garland adorned with red
ribbons and tiny glistening snowflakes draping the banister. “And the foyer,
the girls’ eyes are going to pop out when they see this.”

Darcy stood up
from the floor where she had been sitting cross leg on the area rug, testing
the outdoor lights and replacing bulbs. She put her hands on her hips and
admired the room. “Thanks.”

“You sure you
didn’t also graduate from interior design school?”

“Nope.” She
crossed to the fireplace where the small blaze he’d built earlier crackled in
the hearth and repositioned a snowflake into the greens swathing the mantle.
“But my mother did. My aunt says I take after Mom in many ways, some not so
good.”

“That so. Like
how?” He sat the tray down on the coffee table, careful not to bump the
arrangement of pine cones and Christmas balls she made using an old vase she
found in the attic, and handed her a warm mug.

“Thanks.” She blew
across the top and stared into the dancing flames. “Like Mom, I have trouble
believing in myself. That is why I try so hard. I want everything I do to be
perfect.”

She blinked and
her cheeks turned crimson probably realizing she had spoken the words aloud.

“Well, if you want
my opinion, throw that anchor away because from what I’ve seen you’re all
right.”

“Just all right?”
Her small chuckle made him smile.

“Okay. Perfect.”

“Stop.” She
dropped her gaze to the floor and swiped a stand of hair behind her ear.

“Here have
something to eat.” He sat on the couch and offered her a plate. “I hope you
like egg salad. It’s the girls’ favorite, so I keep a dozen hard-boiled eggs on
hand always.”

“Thanks. I am
hungry. I didn’t take time for breakfast this morning.” She settled back onto
the floor, tucking her legs underneath her.

He couldn’t help
but think how beautiful she was. Some man was going to be very lucky one day.

That thought made
his stomach collapse like a mule had just kicked him. He pushed away the image
of some faceless guy taking Darcy into his arms before the figment tasted her
sweet lips. He swallowed the cider like a stiff drink and spit it out.

“It’s hot,” Darcy
said.

Wiggling his
tongue in his mouth caused her to laugh which lightened his mood. She was with
him now. And if they were friends…

He watched her
take a bite of her sandwich. When she licked a morsel of egg from her finger, a
jolt went right to his groin. He quickly looked at his own plate and asked the
first thing that popped into his head, “So tell me. If you don’t mind me
asking, do you know what caused the fire at your restaurant?”

Her face paled and
he immediately regretted asking her the question. Women handled things
differently. She obviously was very hurt and taking the event personally. “I’m
sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“No. It’s okay.”
She dropped the uneaten portion of her sandwich onto the plate and pushed it
away. She wiped her mouth with the paper napkin before saying, “The primary
investigation shows it started in the kitchen around the grill area. I think my
fry man forgot to turn the fryer off. It wasn’t his fault though.”

“If it was his job
to do so, why wouldn’t you think it’s his fault?”

“Ultimately it was
mine. I normally check everything before I leave for the night, but I was so
upset with myself that night, I just didn’t.”

“Why were you
upset?” Dylan sat his mug down, feeling she needed to talk to someone about the
tragic event.

“I’ve been trying
for months to get this hot-shot food critic to visit Sweet Grass, hoping if I
could, he’d give the restaurant a five-star rating. Like I said before, I
wanted to be perfect. Anyway, he came in that night, unannounced. And, well,
things didn’t go as well as I had hoped.”

“He wasn’t impressed?”

“No. He loved
everything. He just didn’t love me.” She dapped at her eye with a knuckle.

His knitted his
brows together, trying to understand. “What do you mean he didn’t love you?”

She took a sip of
her cider and cleared her throat before she continued. “The next morning Sweet
Grass was in The Charleston Times twice. The fire was on the front page and his
critique of Sweet Grass was on the first page of the entertainment section. He
gave me, us, four and a half stars. He reported Sweet Grass was exquisite, the
service was outstanding, and the food exceptional. We were worth checking out
over the holiday season, but he thought the owner should care enough about her
customers to interact with them.”

Dylan dropped back
on the couch. She thought she wasn’t perfect.

“I was so nervous
when he came in I stayed in the background making sure everything was perfect.
I knew he liked to be mollycoddled by the owners of the restaurants he visited.
I was just so nervous. I did greet him at the door as he was leaving. Do you
want to know what he said to me?”

It wasn’t good,
that much he knew by looking at the pain etched in Darcy face. He nodded.

“He said, ‘a
personality was the only missing ingredient tonight, Ms. Witherspoon. I will be
kind.’ I went into the ladies room and threw up the moment he stepped outside,
and I stayed in my office the rest of the night, hiding.”

Dylan pushed off
the couch and gathered her into his arms and held her as tears streamed down
her face. He wished he could make her feel better, but how? He couldn’t turn
back time. “I’m sorry.”

The front door
opened up and a cold blast of air swept across the floor. Dylan looked up and
mumbled against Darcy’s hair, “Oh, crap.”

Dylan’s fingers
curled into her sweater and pressed against her skin. Darcy’s soft hair brushed
against his cheek as she turned her head in the direction he looked.

With her mouth
slightly agape and twinkle in her eyes, his mother reached under her woven cape
edged with tassels, removed a knapsack from her shoulder and lowered the sack
to the floor. Her long, fawn-colored braid fell forward over her shoulder. She
stood and tossed it back and smoothed long fingers along her head as if
checking for any strands out of place.

“Well, well. Look
what we have here, Lilac,” his father said. He sported a suede hip-length coat
whose fringe had seen much better days, maybe decades ago. A worn leather
cowboy hat perched on his head. Lennon sunglasses rested on his long thin nose.

They both wore
faded blue jeans and moccasin style boots that covered their calves.

Feeling like a
high school kid caught necking with his girlfriend, Dylan jumped to his
stocking feet and Darcy fell back, catching herself with outstretched arms.

“Mom. Dad. What
are you doing here?” He stumbled over the words. “Yesterday, when you called,
you were halfway across the country.”