Daring Dylan (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 2) by Jacie Floyd Page A
Authors: Jacie Floyd
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more to fix than it’s worth.” Wiping her hands on the cloth, she
pulled back a tarp corner to sit on the edge of the bed.
He took
over the tape-removal task, eager for a diversion that turned his attention
away from her body. “So, do you need a ride somewhere?”
“No,
thanks. I have Gran’s car.”
“Are you
going out? Will you be gone long?” Will you bring back food, he almost asked,
but remembered the terms of his occupancy. No meals.
“I’m going
to visit Granddad.” She folded her hands in her lap a little too studiously.
“And then Gran and I are going out to dinner.”
The forced
nonchalance warned him something was up. “With a friend?”
“Yes and my
stepfather.” The sweetness of her smile would have surpassed those of angels.
“Would you like to join us?”
He scowled.
“Is Clayton the friend?”
She
hesitated before admitting, “Yes.”
“Then, no.”
He’d rather eat ground glass than have Clayton’s company for dinner.
“You’ll
have to face him sooner or later.”
“Not tonight.”
He tossed the ball of masking tape into a trash bag. “I need to take a shower
and check on how the market closed.”
“Ri-ight.”
She stood and smoothed her skirt, obviously not buying his excuse.
“Where’s
MacDuff? You want me to keep an eye on him?”
“He’s over
at my place.”
“Your
place? Where’s that?”
She moved
toward the door. “Over the carriage house. It’s where my mom and I lived when I
was growing up. Gran saves it for me to use when I’m here. Nearby but
separate.”
Good. They
wouldn’t be sleeping under the same roof. Less temptation that way. “See you
tomorrow then.”
“There’s a
spare key on a hook in the laundry room. Lock up if you go anywhere.” She
wiggled her fingers at him over her shoulder as she left.
He looked
around curiously. Either the sun had chosen that moment to drop below the
horizon or Gracie’s departure caused the light in the room to dim.
A couple of
hours later, Dylan drove the Navigator down East Langden’s main commercial
strip looking for dinner. All five blocks of it. He drummed his fingers against
the steering wheel, keeping time to a tune on the rental car’s radio.
The street
exuded an odd combination of prosperity and decay with signs of renovation
interspersed among empty storefronts. A trendy coffee shop sat opposite an
old-style bakery. A dusty hardware store rubbed up against a Fresh Market.
Boutiques and antique shops interrupted a block of unoccupied buildings like
the intermittent teeth in a jack-o-lantern’s smile.
Vague
memories had haunted him when he drove through town earlier that day. A nagging
recollection of holding his father’s hand while visiting local stores. His
mouth watered, remembering a double-chocolate brownie he’d devoured while natives
tousled his hair and shook hands with his dad in the yeasty-smelling bakeshop.
He added a
stop at the bakery to his list of places to visit. Maybe that would jog loose
other memories of his father. He had so few. If a closed sign hadn’t hung on
the door, he would have circled right back to it.
Stomach
growling, he turned his attention toward locating his next meal. A faded diner
with plastic booths didn’t appeal to him. McStone’s Pub across from the town
hall seemed the most promising until he reached the waterfront. A weathered
sign that read Lulu’s Lobster Pot drew his eye. A steady stream of customers
paraded through the building’s front door, encouraging him to give it a try.
Inside,
rows of trestle tables marched down each side of the dining room. Framed and
autographed photos decorated one long wall. A line of locals snaked beside it,
waiting to give their orders to a woman behind the counter wearing a hairnet
and Betty Boop make-up. Dylan scanned the menu painted on the wall above her
head.
The choice
was limited to small, medium, large, or jumbo lobster, herb bread, and the
day’s side dish scrawled in chalk beneath the
pulled back a tarp corner to sit on the edge of the bed.
He took
over the tape-removal task, eager for a diversion that turned his attention
away from her body. “So, do you need a ride somewhere?”
“No,
thanks. I have Gran’s car.”
“Are you
going out? Will you be gone long?” Will you bring back food, he almost asked,
but remembered the terms of his occupancy. No meals.
“I’m going
to visit Granddad.” She folded her hands in her lap a little too studiously.
“And then Gran and I are going out to dinner.”
The forced
nonchalance warned him something was up. “With a friend?”
“Yes and my
stepfather.” The sweetness of her smile would have surpassed those of angels.
“Would you like to join us?”
He scowled.
“Is Clayton the friend?”
She
hesitated before admitting, “Yes.”
“Then, no.”
He’d rather eat ground glass than have Clayton’s company for dinner.
“You’ll
have to face him sooner or later.”
“Not tonight.”
He tossed the ball of masking tape into a trash bag. “I need to take a shower
and check on how the market closed.”
“Ri-ight.”
She stood and smoothed her skirt, obviously not buying his excuse.
“Where’s
MacDuff? You want me to keep an eye on him?”
“He’s over
at my place.”
“Your
place? Where’s that?”
She moved
toward the door. “Over the carriage house. It’s where my mom and I lived when I
was growing up. Gran saves it for me to use when I’m here. Nearby but
separate.”
Good. They
wouldn’t be sleeping under the same roof. Less temptation that way. “See you
tomorrow then.”
“There’s a
spare key on a hook in the laundry room. Lock up if you go anywhere.” She
wiggled her fingers at him over her shoulder as she left.
He looked
around curiously. Either the sun had chosen that moment to drop below the
horizon or Gracie’s departure caused the light in the room to dim.
A couple of
hours later, Dylan drove the Navigator down East Langden’s main commercial
strip looking for dinner. All five blocks of it. He drummed his fingers against
the steering wheel, keeping time to a tune on the rental car’s radio.
The street
exuded an odd combination of prosperity and decay with signs of renovation
interspersed among empty storefronts. A trendy coffee shop sat opposite an
old-style bakery. A dusty hardware store rubbed up against a Fresh Market.
Boutiques and antique shops interrupted a block of unoccupied buildings like
the intermittent teeth in a jack-o-lantern’s smile.
Vague
memories had haunted him when he drove through town earlier that day. A nagging
recollection of holding his father’s hand while visiting local stores. His
mouth watered, remembering a double-chocolate brownie he’d devoured while natives
tousled his hair and shook hands with his dad in the yeasty-smelling bakeshop.
He added a
stop at the bakery to his list of places to visit. Maybe that would jog loose
other memories of his father. He had so few. If a closed sign hadn’t hung on
the door, he would have circled right back to it.
Stomach
growling, he turned his attention toward locating his next meal. A faded diner
with plastic booths didn’t appeal to him. McStone’s Pub across from the town
hall seemed the most promising until he reached the waterfront. A weathered
sign that read Lulu’s Lobster Pot drew his eye. A steady stream of customers
paraded through the building’s front door, encouraging him to give it a try.
Inside,
rows of trestle tables marched down each side of the dining room. Framed and
autographed photos decorated one long wall. A line of locals snaked beside it,
waiting to give their orders to a woman behind the counter wearing a hairnet
and Betty Boop make-up. Dylan scanned the menu painted on the wall above her
head.
The choice
was limited to small, medium, large, or jumbo lobster, herb bread, and the
day’s side dish scrawled in chalk beneath the
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