“Personal?”
“Very.”
“Painful?”
“Possibly.”
With a grimace he picked up his darts. “Good thing I don’t plan to lose.”
Cheyenne was determined not to lose, either. And she didn’t.
“You hustled me!” he complained when she won it with a bull’s-eye.
“My mother used to manage a pool hall.”
“What?”
“It was one of the few jobs she kept for longer than a week. We stayed the whole summer, the summer before we moved here.”
“So you were…what? Fifteen? Sixteen? That’s not old enough to hang out in a pool hall, not if they serve alcohol.”
“I was fourteen and Presley was sixteen, and they definitely served alcohol. But we lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the second floor. My mom slept during the day, while the place was closed. We weren’t allowed to turn on the TV, because the noise would wake her. And we weren’t allowed to leave the premises because she didn’t want to worry about us getting into trouble. So we’d let in the boys who lived next door and play darts and pool with them all day.” She took a sip of her beer. “Told you I was good. You just chose to believe what you think you saw.”
“So you threw the game with Mack?”
“I could tell you were watching.” She shrugged. “Fortunately, Mack was good enough to make it look easy.”
“I’ll never be able to trust you again,” he said with mock outrage.
“Soon I’ll know your deepest, darkest secrets. Frightening, isn’t it?”
He grew serious as his eyes searched hers. “What will you do with that knowledge?”
A glance at the others told her they were preoccupied and no longer listening. “Decide whether or not I want to get back into bed with you.”
He finished her beer. “You already want to get back into bed with me,” he said with a sexy grin.
* * *
They danced. They laughed. They stayed out late. Cheyenne was a little tipsy by the time Dylan brought her home. He’d stopped drinking after one beer and those few swallows he’d had of hers. Although he hadn’t made a big deal about becoming the designated driver, hadn’t even mentioned it, she suspected he’d taken on that responsibility to make sure they all got home safely.
He was used to caring for people, she realized. He was good at it, probably because he’d been doing it most of his life. She wondered if his brothers knew how lucky they were that he’d stepped up and been able to fill their parents’ shoes. She understood the value of what he’d done for them, because she’d never had anyone to give her that kind of care and protection.
She wished Presley was home so they could talk, but her sister was still with Aaron. No one could find them when it was time to leave. Cheyenne worried about what they might be doing, afraid they’d gone off to get high. But she didn’t want to think about that right now. She was still engrossed in the afterglow of a wonderful evening.
“How is she?” she asked Marcy as she walked in.
A middle-aged mother of five, Marcy was sitting in the living room reading a book, which she slid into her purse. “Fine. It’s been quiet around here. I’ve written down all the times she woke up, was fed and received her medication.”
“Great. Thank you.” Cheyenne reached for her wallet so she could pay Marcy and found a note in her purse. Presley had written something on a napkin from the bar.
She didn’t take the time to read it. She wanted to send Marcy off first.
“I’m available over the rest of the holidays, if you need me,” Marcy said.
“We’d feel too guilty bothering you when you should be with your family.”
“I’m happy to help out here and there. You need a break every once in a while.”
“Thanks for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind.” Cheyenne walked her to the door. Then she locked up and returned to the sofa, where she read her sister’s brief message.
I love seeing you have a good time. So does Dylan. He’s crazy about you. I can see it in his face.
P
Smiling, Cheyenne leaned her head back as she remembered various parts of the evening. Although Dylan had accompanied her to the door, he hadn’t kissed her good-night. She’d wanted him to, but in another way she was glad he intuitively knew better than to resume anything physical. She liked the friendship they were establishing. It was a better starting place, a far less frightening approach to including him in her life, whether as a friend…or more.
Her phone rang. She glanced at caller ID and laughed. “Hello?”
“I’m ready for one question,” Dylan said.
“Just one?” On the drive, when she’d suggested he start to fulfill his twenty-answer debt, he’d scowled and put her off.
“I prefer to handle it over time,” he replied, which was what he’d said then, too.
“What if I go easy on you at first?”
“Then you could get two.”
Covering herself with the throw blanket she kept on the arm of the couch, she pulled up her feet. “Have you ever been in love?”
“That’s supposed to be an easy question?”
“It’s not?” It was certainly one she was dying to know the answer to. His name had been connected to a lot of different women over the years, but she’d never heard about a steady girlfriend. That didn’t mean it couldn’t have happened. She hadn’t been paying much attention, especially since Joe returned to town.
“How is that easy?”
“Yes or no will handle it.”
“But I’m not sure what the truth says about me.”
She pictured him standing inside her front door as he had that first night. She no longer saw the scar at his temple as a defect. It was just part of him, and it added character to his face. “Give it a shot. I’ll tell you what it says about you, or at least my interpretation.”
“Never been in love,” he admitted. “Until recently, my life’s been almost entirely devoted to survival.” He hesitated. “So what do you make of that? Are you now assuming I can’t fall in love? That I’m not capable of it?”
“I’m assuming the people you’ve loved, so far, are your brothers.”
“Not a bad thing,” he said, verifying her response.
“Not a bad thing at all.”
“Okay, I’ll let you ask one more.”