When Snow Falls (11 page)

“Really. She’s having a good night and so am I.”

“I’m…glad to hear it.”

“So what will you do?”

Cheyenne had no idea. Riley and Jacob were beat after putting in nearly twelve hours of exhausting physical labor. They were planning to be back by six in the morning, so they were probably hoping to get to bed early.

“I’ll stop over and say hello to Eve’s parents. Then I’ll drop by Sophia’s. If her husband’s out of town, maybe she’ll want to watch a movie with me.”

“You’ve got a pretty good chance of Skip being gone. He’s always gone.”

“Because he’s such a big deal, right?” Cheyenne smiled. They made fun of Sophia’s husband all the time. He was so full of himself. But he was pretty adept at making money. He traveled the world, raising funds for various venture capital partnerships. Almost everyone in Whiskey Creek invested with him. If they had enough money. He’d never give anyone who lived in the river bottoms a second of his time.

“A legend in his own mind,” Presley replied.

Covering a yawn, Cheyenne leaned back. She hadn’t realized how tired she was, but it made sense, given how little sleep she’d had last night. “Thanks for looking after Mom, Pres. I appreciate the break.”

“No problem. Have fun.”

After they hung up, Cheyenne drummed her fingers on the desk, trying to decide whether or not she’d really go to Sophia’s. She was tempted to call Joe back. She was also tempted to call Dylan. She felt terrible about how things had ended, wanted to apologize to him as Joe had apologized to her.

But she’d be better off to leave both men alone.

She powered down her computer, gathered up her purse and turned off the lights.

A creak from above made her pause, but she didn’t go to investigate. She knew she wouldn’t find any reason for it.

“Good night, Mary,” she said, and smiled as she let herself out.

* * *

Dylan sat in front of the television, his two dogs—a chocolate lab and a golden retriever mix he’d rescued from the local shelter five years ago—at his feet. But he wasn’t paying much attention to the MMA match his brothers had rented on pay-per-view. He liked cage fighting as much as they did. In the early years, when he’d first taken over his father’s business and it wasn’t making enough to support them, he earned extra money by competing. Now he occasionally went to the gym in Jackson, but he didn’t fight. Training just gave him a way to stay in shape.

He should’ve been more interested in what he was seeing but, thanks to his visit to Cheyenne’s house last night, he’d had to work at the shop for twelve hours on virtually no sleep and didn’t have his usual energy. The only thing that kept him from drifting off right there in his recliner was the hope that Cheyenne’s sister would show up. He was eager to hear whether or not Cheyenne had let anything slip. How was she today? Had she told Presley she’d finally slept with someone? Or was she still determined to keep it to herself?

Probably what he wanted to know most was: Did she regret what they’d done?

“Want a cigarette?” Aaron held out a pack of Marlboros, but Dylan shook his head. He hadn’t had a smoke all day.

“No, I quit.”

“You
what?
”

“I said I quit.” He knew how damaging it was to his health. He wasn’t sure why he’d ever started, except that, once upon a time, cigarettes had given him something to do with his hands when he felt like throwing punches. The nicotine calmed him. Back then, he’d figured smoking was the lesser of two evils. But he was beyond needing that crutch—wasn’t he?

“Since when?” Aaron asked.

Mack, Grady and Rod stared at him, too. Even the dogs, Shady and Kikosan, pricked their ears forward.

“Since today.”

Rod paused the TV. “What brought this on?”

“Maybe I don’t want to get lung cancer, okay?” He didn’t know why they had to make a big deal out of it.

They glanced at one another as if he’d just said he was moving to the moon.

“What the heck?” Grady said. “You just had me buy a whole case at Costco.”

Dylan didn’t want to be reminded of that, and he didn’t want to be questioned about his decision. “So? Aaron smokes.”

“Only once in a while,” Rod said. “And only when
you’re
having a cigarette.”

“Then we’ll throw the damn things away. Nobody
has
to smoke them.”

Shady barked, obviously sensing the shift of emotions in the room.

“It’s just kind of sudden,” Grady said. “That’s all.”

“And it’s because they’re unhealthy?” Now Rod was getting into the act.

Dylan gave him a disgruntled look that warned them all to back off. “That’s right.”

Aaron, of course, didn’t back off. He leaned forward. “But they were unhealthy when you started.”

“So you’re going to give me the third degree?” He preferred not to smoke anymore. So what? It
was
bad for his health. But that wasn’t all. He couldn’t see Cheyenne with anyone who smoked. Certainly no one in her crowd lit up, except her mother and sister—both people she didn’t respect. He couldn’t dismiss that, or the fact that she’d mentioned the smell last night, although she’d claimed it didn’t bother her. He just didn’t want his brothers to know it had taken a woman to make him quit, hated to admit it even to himself. He was stupid to care about Cheyenne. Until yesterday, she’d never paid him any attention. She’d been too busy chasing Joe, thought he was so much better.

So why had she given
him
her virginity? Why not Joe? Dylan couldn’t imagine any available male turning her away. She could easily have chosen another man. But she hadn’t, and he couldn’t regret taking what she’d offered him. There were moments he wanted to believe he wouldn’t waste any more time or energy on a woman who’d counted him out before really giving him a chance, but…he’d make love to her again if only she showed interest. He couldn’t lie to himself about that.

“Fine,” Aaron said.

Mack shrugged. “I’m glad. I’ve been at you for months.”

“Then that’s why,” Dylan grumbled. “For you.”

The volume on the TV went up, the dogs lay down and the MMA fight continued. But as the minutes slipped away with no one coming to the door, Dylan finally asked his brothers what he wanted to know. “Presley coming over later? Or does she have to work?”

“No clue,” Mack responded, eyes glued to the TV. He obviously didn’t care one way or another. Like Dylan, he’d never found Cheyenne’s sister appealing. It was Aaron who liked her. They’d been sleeping together for the past several weeks. Dylan thought they might be drifting toward a relationship. Aaron invited her over often enough, but it could be hard to tell what he was thinking. Aaron had been the most difficult of his brothers to raise. He was always getting into trouble.

“Aaron? You heard from her?” he asked.

Aaron glanced over. “Who?”

“Presley.”

“No. Why?”

“I thought she might be coming over.”

“Haven’t talked to her.”

The fight on TV ended with a knockout. That might’ve been exciting except it happened far too soon to satisfy the eager crowd who’d gathered in the living room.

“That sucks,” Mack complained.

Rod snapped off the TV. “I don’t care if Nero’s had a dozen knockouts. He’s a pussy. I can’t believe he went down so easy. He had the guy in an arm bar, for hell’s sake, and allowed him to escape.”

“That fight was all hype,” Grady agreed.

Aaron unfolded his long body and rose to his feet. “Forget the fight. The night’s young. Let’s go over to Sexy Sadie’s and see what we can find.”

“You ‘find’ a fight, I’m not coming to save your asses,” Dylan said.

Mack turned toward him. “You staying here?”

Dylan nodded as he petted Kikosan, who’d stuck her snout into his lap. “You’re on your own tonight,” he said, but at twenty-one, Mack was the baby of the family, more like a son than a brother. If he got into trouble, Dylan would go through hell or high water to get him out and everyone knew it. As far as that went, he felt just as strongly about the others, even Aaron, who’d caused him so much grief. “Keep a level head.”

Grady nudged his foot. “Come with us, Dyl.”

“Naw, I’m beat,” he said, but as soon as they were gone, he found the energy to go outside and walk with the dogs to the edge of the clearing, where he could see Cheyenne’s house. He wanted to catch a glimpse of her driveway, see if her Oldsmobile was there, but it wasn’t.

13

I
t wasn’t quite eleven when Cheyenne started home. She’d spent the evening with Sophia, watching a movie, talking, eating—doing whatever she could to distract herself from thoughts of Joe or Dylan. She got the impression that Sophia was as lonely as she was. At least, she’d welcomed the company. Cheyenne wished she could rely on having Sophia for companionship over the rest of the holidays, but she and her daughter were flying to Hawaii in the morning to meet Skip, who was having his parents join them on Oahu.

“Must be nice.” She imagined warm, sunny beaches as she turned toward the river bottoms. But she wasn’t truly jealous. After several hours in Sophia’s presence she felt more like herself than she had in days, which was why she felt so surprised when she drove past her own driveway.

A half mile farther down the road was Dylan’s place, a brick house with a big yard, two dogs that must be in the house because they weren’t out and several old oak trees draped with the mistletoe that grew naturally in their branches. His lot sloped down to meet the river behind it and included several outbuildings—a shed, a chicken coop, a workshop and a barn. She’d never seen the barn for herself, but she’d heard Presley talk about the gym they’d set up in there.

Cheyenne knew she’d have to deal with Joe at some point. He was the brother of one of her best friends and circulated among the same people she did. It was rude—beyond rude—to ignore his calls. She’d already decided she’d speak to him in the morning, assure him she wasn’t upset and politely decline his offer to go out.

But Dylan was a different story. There were no expectations between them. She could return to her regular life and forget him. He’d given her that option when he left without finishing their conversation. She doubted he’d ever contact her again.

If only she didn’t feel so terrible about the way she’d brushed him off…

Frustrated by her vigilant conscience, which wouldn’t let her rest until she’d apologized, she parked on the road in front of his place.

The house was dark. At first she thought she’d come too late, everyone was asleep. Dylan’s Jeep sat in the garage with his motorcycle parked beside it. She could see both vehicles because the garage door was up. When they were home, they rarely bothered to close it, probably because they came and went so often. But then she noticed that Grady’s SUV was gone and guessed that some, if not all, of the Amoses were out.

What should she do? Forget about seeking any kind of resolution and go home?

No doubt, but she preferred to get this behind her. So she called Dylan’s cell to ask if he’d stop by on his way past her place, or maybe talk to her on the phone.

“Hello?” He sounded groggy when he answered, which told her he hadn’t gone out with his brothers. She’d awakened him.

“It’s me.”

He took a breath she could hear. “That’s the only reason I answered.”

“I thought you were mad at me.”

“That doesn’t mean I haven’t been hoping you’d call.”

His deep voice brought back every sensation she’d experienced when he was in her bed.

“I’m, um…” She fought the sexual awareness flowing through her, along with the intimate memories. She didn’t want to cause herself more problems. “I shouldn’t have called so late. Would you rather we talked tomorrow?”

There was a brief pause. “That depends.”

“On what?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. She could tell by his tone.

“On whether or not you really just want to talk.”

She told herself to apologize and be done with it. She should not accept the invitation in his voice. But the words stuck in her throat. Desire had come out of nowhere and easily overtaken remorse. “I’m sitting in front of your house.”

“Does that mean what I think it does?”

Leaning her head against the headrest, she closed her eyes. “Yes.”

“I’ll meet you at the door,” he said, and hung up.

* * *

He was waiting for her when she reached the stoop. Wearing nothing but a hastily donned pair of jeans that were neither zipped nor buttoned, he held back the dogs so she could come in, and she realized in an instant that she found him even more attractive tonight than she had before.

How had she missed his appeal? His face was so much more intriguing than other men’s, so rugged....

“I told myself I was coming to apologize about last night,” she whispered as she slipped past the dogs.

“But…”

“I could’ve done that earlier, on the phone. I didn’t need to come traipsing over here after eleven.”

He shut the door. “This isn’t about the ‘I’m sorry’ part of last night.”

“What’s it about?” She really wanted to know. She’d never imagined she’d be having an affair with Dylan Amos. That was her sister’s territory. Or so she’d thought.

“The other part,” he said. “This way.”

He turned, but she didn’t follow. She remained in his front entryway, with his dogs. “I don’t want to use you, Dylan. I’m not that kind of person. I can’t understand why, after so many years, I’m suddenly making these choices. But…”

“What?”

“Touching you again, having you touch me…” She met his dark eyes and lowered her voice. “It’s all I can think about.”

“Then it’s fortunate for you that I’m having the same problem.” He held out his hand.

This time she didn’t hesitate to take it. She was cold after being outside. And she knew, from experience, how warm his body would be.

“What about your brothers?” She glanced apprehensively toward the darker reaches of the house.

“They’re gone,” he said, and forced his dogs to stay outside his bedroom as they went inside.

* * *

Dylan’s room smelled slightly of cigarettes, but the scent of his cologne and his…shampoo?…was much stronger.

She wanted to take a minute to look around, to see what Dylan was like in his own space, but he didn’t give her a chance. He didn’t even turn on the light before pulling her into bed with him.

“Can a person become an addiction?” she whispered as he stripped off her clothes.

“You think you’re already addicted to me?” Once they were both naked, he urged her onto her back and threaded their fingers together as he kissed her.

“It feels that way. I couldn’t wait to see you again. I’ve just been passing time all day.”

He smiled as his mouth moved lower. “Sex is new for you. Once you find out that any man can give you what you want, the spell will be broken.”

She wasn’t so sure. But she didn’t argue. His mouth had found her breast and his fingers were sliding down. Once they reached their intended target, she couldn’t even think, let alone talk.

* * *

A weak winter sun struggled to breach the cracks in the blinds as Cheyenne opened her eyes. She rolled over, confused and unable to remember where she was. Then the memories of Dylan and what they’d done last night came pouring back.

She was still in his bed!

Sitting up so fast her head swam, she blinked away the last vestiges of sleep and turned to see if he was wrapped up in the bedding beside her.

He wasn’t. Still, she wasn’t alone in the house. She could hear the tramp of footsteps, as well as male voices, in what would probably be the hall and kitchen areas.

Pulling the bedding up to her chin, she waited to see if he’d return. She was naked and felt vulnerable because of it, but she didn’t want to get up. She was afraid he’d open the door at the wrong moment and one of his brothers would be standing beyond him. Not only that, but somehow, letting him see her in the light of day felt different than in the dark of night.

Was he with his brothers, getting breakfast?

There was a towel draped over the knob of the bathroom door. It hadn’t been there before—she would’ve noticed when she used the bathroom during the night—and dampness in the air told her someone had recently showered. She guessed Dylan was dressed and ready for the day....

Catching a glimpse of herself—eyes wide, face white, hair tangled—she shook her head. She’d made her first mistake worse by coming back for more. And then she’d spent the night with him, which compounded the problem.

She would’ve left hours ago, but she’d been far too comfortable tucked up against Dylan. She’d kept thinking, “I’ll go in a minute,” but the next thing she knew, it was morning.

“You’re screwing up,” she told herself. She was eager to drag on her clothes and rush out, but she wanted to run into Dylan’s brothers even less than she wanted to run into him. Mack, Aaron and the others had to be wondering why her car was sitting in front of their house.

Actually, by now they’d probably guessed.

Burning with embarrassment, she leaned over and grabbed her purse from the nightstand so she could check her phone. It was eight-thirty. But the time wasn’t all that caught her eye. Between four and six, she’d received numerous calls and text messages from Presley. Her sister had worried when she didn’t come home.

Too bad she’d had her phone on vibrate. Otherwise, it might’ve gotten her up and out of bed.

She almost called Presley back, then decided to wait. Maybe she could tell her sister she’d stayed at Sophia’s, but not if Aaron ratted her out.

Deciding she had to make a move, she relinquished the blankets and hopped out of bed to search for her panties. But they weren’t on the floor with the rest of her clothes. She found them tacked to the corkboard above Dylan’s desk, along with a note.

She was slightly mortified at the sight but had to chuckle at his sense of humor.

Have to work. Help yourself to anything you want.

D

His voice wasn’t among those she could hear in the kitchen. Had he already left the house? If so, she wished his brothers had gone with him. It sounded like they were getting ready, but she hated feeling like a prisoner in Dylan’s bedroom.

She dressed, then paced while she waited, careful not to make noise. When her phone went off, she would’ve pressed Ignore. She didn’t want to speak for fear of drawing attention, but caller ID indicated it was Dylan.

“Hello?” she whispered, huddling in the corner with her face turned away from the door.

“You awake?”

“I am now.” The pique in her voice revealed that she wasn’t particularly pleased to have slept so late, which elicted a laugh from Dylan.

“You were dead to the world. I hated to disturb you.”

“You should’ve told me you were leaving!”

“We’ve been up late the past two nights. I felt you could use the sleep.”

She lowered her voice even further. “Your brothers are still here.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll be joining me at the shop soon. Then you can duck out.”

“I’m sure they’ve already seen my car, but it would still be embarrassing to run into them as I tiptoe out of your bedroom.”

“Actually, they haven’t seen your car,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s why I’m calling. I wanted to tell you that I moved it behind the barn.”

“When?”

“After you fell asleep.”

It bothered him that she didn’t want anyone to know they were seeing each other. He took it as a slight—he’d made that clear when she’d been afraid Presley would see his bike—and she couldn’t blame him. Yet he’d taken her keys off his desk and gone out in the cold to remedy the problem in the middle of the night? “That was nice of you.
Really
nice. Thank you.”

“Keeping you in my bed was worth it. Have a good day,” he said, and disconnected.

Their time together had been incredible, even better than the hours at her place. She had to admit that much. Practice helped…

“You’re an interesting man, Dylan Amos,” she said as she wandered around his room, which was surprisingly clean and well-organized. There were a few articles of clothing he hadn’t hung up, but no dust, no dirt and everything smelled fresh.

She examined the bits of paper and receipts tacked to his corkboard. Names and numbers of both men and women. Flyers announcing MMA tournaments. A few pictures of him at the lake with his brothers or some buddies. Before and after photos of various cars he must’ve repaired. His GED.

When she saw that, she checked the date on the certificate and realized he’d gotten it only a year ago. She wondered why he’d bothered with it. He’d been running his own business since eighteen, and it seemed to make enough to support them all. They certainly had plenty of toys, from motorcycles to Jet Skis to four-wheel drives, and no one was rushing off to work someplace else.

“Come on, we’re late!” someone shouted. “Old Man Murphy wants his car today. We don’t get it done, Dylan’s gonna pound our asses.”

She smiled at that. Then she saw a framed picture on the opposite nightstand and walked over to have a look. An attractive woman of maybe twenty-five, with long dark hair, held a young Dylan on her lap.

Sobering, Cheyenne picked up the photograph and stared at the faces of mother and son. They looked so much alike. They had the same coloring, the same pouty mouth. She smiled again, thinking about how much she enjoyed kissing that mouth. What would he have been like had his mother lived? And what about his father? Did they have a relationship?

The front door slammed, jarring her out of her thoughts. At last, she was free.

Putting the picture down, she waited until she heard the motors of two different vehicles flare up and grow dim. Then she hurried out to find her own car behind the barn.

* * *

As soon as Cheyenne let herself into the house, Presley came out of her bedroom. “
There
you are,” she said, sounding put out.

Self-conscious and guilty, Cheyenne crossed to the kitchen. “Hi. Sorry about last night. I would’ve called but I zonked out.”

Her sister trailed after her, stopping at the table when she proceeded to the fridge. “Where? That’s the question.”

Cheyenne wasn’t sure whether or not she’d gone looking for her. She doubted Presley would have checked the Amoses’, even if she did. She’d probably gone in the other direction, past Sophia’s and maybe even the Harmons’. “Over at Eve’s place.”

“I thought Eve was on a cruise.”

She rummaged around as if hunting for something to eat, but she wasn’t particularly hungry, just trying to avoid facing her sister and meeting her gaze. The fact that she and Presley seemed to have switched roles didn’t escape her. “She is.”