Only in My Dreams Read online

  She pursed her lips. “It isn’t that. He just . . . he didn’t want to try to be your father since you already had one.”

  “I’d asked him not to,” Dad said quietly. “I didn’t think he’d be quite so literal. I screwed up, son. I should’ve encouraged him to love you and cherish you as much as I did.” His voice started to break, and he inhaled sharply. “As much as I do.”

  Dylan’s breath rattled around in his chest like it was trapped. He didn’t know what to say.

  “And I wasn’t exactly supportive of Angie,” Mom said. “Or of you, Sam.” She looked at Dylan’s dad. “We should’ve done more to make this multifamily thing work for Dylan, and I know you tried.”

  Dylan stood up, the energy coursing through him forcing him to move. He picked up his beer and took a long drink. Then he moved back toward the kitchen.

  Dad turned on the couch to look at him. “Dylan, you seem uncertain.”

  “This is just . . . I can’t get my head around the two of you here together.”

  Mom got up and followed him. “It’s long overdue. When your dad called to tell me what you said . . . ”

  Dylan stood in the kitchen behind the giant island he’d built, using it as a defense against them. “He called you?”

  She nodded. “I’m glad he did. No, I’m sorry he had to. I know I’m . . . controlling. I just want you to be happy. I think I knew, deep down, that you weren’t. That it was more than Jessica. You never should’ve married her.” She stood on the other side of the counter and rested her palms atop the granite.

  This was too much. Mom had practically pushed him to marry Jessica. “Why were you in favor of it then?”

  “I thought it would be good for you. I thought it was what you needed.” Dylan couldn’t argue with her since he’d thought the same thing.

  Dad came and joined them, setting his beer down and looking at Dylan with an intensity that honestly made him a little uncomfortable. “I thought so too. I thought a family of your own would coax you to open up, to feel. You’re a pretty closed off guy.”

  “And why do you think that is?” He sounded angry. Hell, he felt angry. “Look, this is a great effort. I guess I appreciate it, but it’s kind of late. I’m thirty-one years old. I am who I am. I don’t like to show how I feel and I sure as hell don’t like to talk about it.”

  Dad held up his hand. “I get it, and no one’s asking you to change, least of all us. We just want to do things differently. And we hope, in time, that you’ll want to open up and join in with our families—your families.”

  Now they wanted to find a way to make him feel included? “I don’t know if that will work. Like I said, I am who I am, and things are the way they are.”

  “Things are only the way we let them be,” Dad said, starting to sound a little stern. “I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure you know how important you are to me. I’ve already told Angie that Monica Christensen can’t come over anymore. She was horrible to you during the divorce. If she wants to apologize, I’ll reconsider, but for now, she’s not welcome at Rancho Westcott.”

  Dylan nearly cracked a smile. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary.”

  Dad slapped his hand on the counter. “For Christ’s sake, stop discounting yourself, Dylan. It is necessary. You’ve always done that, made your needs and wants so small as to be overlooked, probably because you just wanted to fit in.” Dad wiped his hand over his face. “When I think back . . . ” His voice cracked again, and this time Dylan saw the sheen of tears in his eyes. “If banning Monica from my house is the least I can do, I’ll do it from the mountaintops.”

  Everything Dad said resonated with him, made something inside of him break free and take flight. He braced his hands on the counter and stared at the pattern in the granite. When he looked up, Dad was wiping his eyes and Mom was biting her lip.

  She blinked rapidly. “Tell us we haven’t ruined you.”

  Earlier he’d thought of himself as broken. But maybe he was fixable. They certainly thought so. And it seemed like they wanted to invest whatever necessary to make him right. “You haven’t.” He was surprised to hear the gravel in his voice.

  Mom came around and hugged him. He put his arms around her, trying but failing to remember the last time they’d done this. When she pulled back, it was Dad’s turn. He thumped Dylan on the back a few times. “I’m sorry, son. I hope you’ll be able to forgive us someday.”

  Dylan stepped back. “I already do. I know you tried. And I know I haven’t made it easy. I’ll try to be better about . . . sharing.” The thought nearly gave him hives.

  Dad gave a single nod, then went and plucked up his beer for a long quaff. “Good beer.”

  Dylan shook his head. “I still can’t believe you guys came up here together.”

  “We don’t hate each other. In fact, I honestly can’t remember if I ever did.” The look she sent his dad was nearly his undoing. There was kindness and even a hint of . . . love.

  Dylan took a drink of beer to stave off the unwelcome rush of emotion, then struggled to swallow it past the lump in his throat.

  “Now, tell me what’s going on with that girl from the restaurant,” Mom said. “That was Sara Archer, wasn’t it?”

  “What girl?” Dad looked at him quizzically. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No.” But God, if he let himself accept the emotions battering at him from all sides, he could. He’d been the worst sort of prick. He hadn’t been thinking of her, he’d been protecting himself from having to open up and, you know, feel. But this . . . family conference with his parents had opened up some sort of floodgate and suddenly he knew exactly how he felt about her. He’d never felt as alive, as capable, as happy as he did when he was with her. She gave him a sense of that elusive thing he’d wanted so badly but could never seem to find—family. And he couldn’t wait to tell her. “I hate to throw you guys out, but I need to go somewhere.”

  Mom looked at the clock hanging to the side of the doorway to the hall. “Now? It’s after nine o’clock.”

  He laughed. “You guys just came up here; clearly it’s not that late.”

  “We waited until we were sure you were home from work and had eaten dinner.”

  Dinner? He’d completely forgotten that. Not that he wanted any. He was only hungry for one thing, and it wasn’t food. He grabbed his keys from the hook on the wall. “I gotta go. Stay, leave, whatever.” He went into the hallway and then turned to look at them. “Thank you.”

  Dad toasted him with his beer. “Good luck with whatever you’re doing. And let us know how it goes?” The hidden message was clear: don’t keep this stuff to yourself.

  Dylan smiled. “I will. I promise.”

  SARA SAT AT the little table in Dad’s office situated in front of the windows that overlooked the drive. Her iPad was propped in front of her as she tried to read the latest Elisabeth Naughton romantic suspense. She was local and one of Sara’s favorites, but it was hard to concentrate when the man you were in love with dumped you.

  She leaned forward and closed her eyes. Maybe she should’ve gone to France with Mom.

  No, do what’s best for you, Sara. Like Alex said: Put yourself first.

  She gave up on the book, and left the office, nearly colliding with Kyle in the main hall.

  He caught her elbows. “Hey, Sara-cat. I know it’s late, but I’m starved. I was about to cook something. You interested?”

  Her stomach growled in response. She’d totally forgotten to eat dinner. “Sounds good.”

  They went into the kitchen just as Dad came in from the mudroom.

  Kyle opened the fridge. “I’m cooking dinner, Dad. You hungry?”

  Dad blinked at him and glanced at Sara who nodded her head in encouragement—they’d reached a truce for the sake of working together at Archer, but Sara knew they had things to resolve, hopefully soon. “Sure, thanks. I think I’ll grab a beer. It’s new—I just hooked it up this morning.”

  Sara followed hi
m to the other counter. “Really? I didn’t realize you’d brewed anything.” If it was already drinkable, he had to have made it weeks ago.

  He shrugged. “Just this. It’s a grapefruit base—you might like it.” He grabbed two pint glasses from the cabinet behind the island that held the keg and wine fridge.

  “Hey, don’t I get one?” Kyle asked from across the kitchen.

  Dad got a third glass and filled them.

  “It’s so good to see you brewing again,” Sara said, eager to focus on something besides her encounter with Dylan earlier.

  Kyle joined them and all three lifted their glasses. “Cheers!”

  Sara sat on one of the stools and sipped the brew. It wasn’t bad. Not too hoppy, which she hated, with a smooth, sweet finish. “This is pretty good.”

  Dad cracked a half-smile. “Finally a beer my kitten will drink. I dub thee, ‘Kitten Ale.’ ”

  “Why are you all drinking without me?” Tori came into the kitchen too and sat on Sara’s other side. She tapped her hand on the counter. “Hit me, Dad.”

  He turned and got another glass, pulled the tap, and pushed the beer over to Tori. “This is Kitten Ale. Grapefruit.”

  Tori sampled the brew and nodded. “I don’t usually like fruity beer, but this is really good. Nicely done, Dad.”

  “What a happy accident to have all of you here,” Dad said. He lifted his glass again. “To family.”

  They all drank.

  Sara glanced at her siblings, hoping that what she was about to say would be okay with them, but she was sure it would be. “I got my letter from Alex today, Dad. He told me to go after my dreams no matter what. I know he wanted you to stay out of the project, but I’ve decided my wishes trump his because I’m still here. I think we’d all like it if you’d help with The Alex. Provide input and just be a general sounding board.”

  Tori nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Dad’s gaze was skeptical as it landed on Kyle. “You agree to this too?”

  “I do. You have a lot to contribute to the project, and we’re the ones who have the say. We decided to hire Cade D’Onofrio today to engineer the renovation of the church and monks’ quarters. Good choice?”

  Dad blinked at him. He took a drink of beer. “He’s young, but yeah, he’s good. Who else did you interview?”

  Tori answered and told him whom she would’ve preferred to hire.

  Dad shook his head. “No, D’Onofrio’s the better choice.” He leaned back against the counter behind him. “Look, I don’t want to intrude on this project.”

  “You’re not. I think it’ll be great to have you involved,” Sara said. “And clearly I’m not alone.”

  “Actually, I don’t know if you should spend much time on the project,” Tori said, holding up her glass and studying the liquid inside it. “I’ve missed your beer, Dad. Maybe you should focus on that.”

  Dad smiled, and it was the most genuine look of pleasure Sara had seen on his face in months. Warmth and joy spread through her. This is what they’d been missing. “I can try,” he said.

  Kyle stood up and walked toward the pantry, which was off toward the mudroom, calling out behind him. “I’m making dinner, Tor, if you’re hungry.”

  “I’m famished.” Tori smiled, and Sara thought it was the happiest she’d seen her in a while too.

  “Look who I saw lurking outside.” Kyle came back into the kitchen and stepped aside to reveal Dylan.

  Sara’s chest tightened. His eyes were somber, his hands stuffed awkwardly into the pockets of his jeans.

  She’d turned her head to look but now pivoted on her barstool.

  “You want us to leave you alone?” Tori leaned close to Sara and whispered.

  “No,” Dylan said, clearly having heard her despite her lowered tone. “I’ve recently—very recently—learned I need to open up more, so I’m just going to do this in front of all of you.” He glanced at Kyle then at Tori and Dad. “And try not to embarrass myself too badly.”

  Dylan walked slowly toward Sara, pulling his hands out of his pockets. He circled the edge of the large table that sat in the center of the gathering room.

  When he got to Sara, he dropped to his knees.

  Oh God, what was he doing? Dad was standing right behind her! Her legs turned to jelly and she pulled her sleeves over her hands.

  Dylan smiled and took her fingers in his. “Don’t be nervous. I came to apologize for being a ridiculous butthead. I wasn’t ready to commit, but now I am.”

  She didn’t understand. “That was like two hours ago. Maybe less.”

  “I realize that. And I think I knew I blew it the second you walked off the porch. I was just too stupid to say anything.”

  “Sounds like it,” Tori said. Sara sent a sharp glare at her over Dylan’s head. Tori held up her hand and mouthed, “Sorry.”

  “Your family scares the hell out of me.” He kept his eyes glued to hers. “Because mine does too. Or did.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I told you I suck at this.”

  “I think you’re doing fine,” Dad said softly.

  Dylan looked over at him and brightened, his lip curving up. “Thanks.” He returned his gaze to Sara’s and tightened his hold on her hands. “When I said I wasn’t in love with you, I was lying. Only I didn’t know it. I feel things, I want to do things . . . and I just push it all away. I just got stepped on so many times . . . ”

  She heard the anguish in his voice, something she never imagined she’d hear from him, and her heart broke. She reached out and stroked the side of his face, loving the sensation of his slight beard against her fingertips. “I understand. And I was going to convince you anyway.”

  He laughed. “I don’t doubt it. You’re a force of nature, Sara Archer, and I am head over heels in love with you. I don’t know what the future holds and I can’t promise that I won’t screw up on a regular basis, but I’m going to be the best boyfriend you could ever want. You don’t deserve any less.”

  Tears burned her eyes, happy, joyous tears that she hadn’t felt in months. “You’re the man of my dreams, so of course I deserve you. And you deserve me.”

  “Oh. My. God. This is nauseating. I was hoping to eat.” The sarcasm in Kyle’s voice made Sara laugh. “You staying for dinner, Westcott?”

  He looked up at Sara. “If it’s all right with you.”

  She reached down and wrapped her hands around his neck. “Stay forever.”

  Epilogue

  July 4

  “AND THAT IS how I came up with my signature cocktail, the Naked Ginger.” Kyle sat back in his chair and took a long drink of beer, his eyes full of mischief.

  Dylan laughed. “I call bullshit. No way she let you do that to her on the bar.”

  Kyle’s brows rose. “I tell it like it is, brother.”

  Brother. They weren’t. At least not yet. Dylan glanced over at Sara, who was chatting with his sister, and thought it would come to that though—if he was lucky and she said yes.

  He shook his head to clear distant thoughts of engagement from his mind. First they had to make it through Derek and Chloe’s wedding and to do that he needed to get the cottage finished on time. They’d gone from ahead of schedule to behind, as construction tends to go. He really ought to have been working today, but everybody had convinced him to come to the barbecue at his Dad’s house. So here they were—Westcotts, Archers, and even Davies—enjoying one big happy family event.

  Well, maybe not everyone was enjoying it. His gaze strayed to Bill, who was sitting on the periphery and looking very uncomfortable while Cameron chatted his ear off. Dylan would thank his brother later.

  “Hey, isn’t Rob coming?” Dylan asked. He’d gotten to know Sara’s dad over the last month and loved talking beer with him. In fact, he was looking forward to attempting his own batch of homebrew.

  Kyle’s eyes clouded. “He should be.”

  The old Dylan would’ve let the moment go unnoticed, but the Archers had turned him into some sort of family
guy. It was disturbing. “Everything okay? I thought you two had reached a civil accord.” Kyle and his dad still hadn’t patched things up, according to Sara, but their relationship was a damn sight better than it was with Kyle’s former best friend, Derek. In fact, suspiciously, Derek and Chloe were out of town today. Dylan noted they rarely socialized together, even in large groups. How awkward was the wedding going to be? Or was Kyle even invited?

  “It’s fine.” He shifted in his chair. “I just need to talk to him about something work-related.”

  “Hey, why do you look so serious?” Sara asked Kyle as she came and perched on Dylan’s leg. “You better not be giving my boyfriend a hard time.”

  Dylan slid his hand around her waist and drew her closer so he could get a better whiff of her unique Sara-scent—oranges and spice, everything nice. “He’s fine.”

  “We were wondering where Dad is,” Kyle said.

  “Oh.” Sara glanced at Dylan, then her gaze went beyond him. “He just got here. He’s over talking to Sam.”

  Dylan turned his head and saw that his dad was steering Rob toward his barbecue, likely to talk about its various bells and whistles. Was Dylan going to be like that at that age? He squeezed Sara’s waist, thinking about the future with her, and hoped so.

  Kyle stood. “Time for another beer.” He left them alone, and Dylan took the opportunity to nuzzle his face against Sara’s neck.

  “You smell so damn good. Think anyone will notice if we go inside for a few minutes?”

  She wrapped her hand around his neck as he pulled back to look up at her. “Um, probably. Do you care?”

  “Not a bit.”

  She jumped off his lap. “After you, hotness.”

  His cock started to swell, and he groaned softly before he leaned in to softly bite her earlobe. “Let’s go.”

  She preceded him inside, nodding at family and friends and neighbors along the way. Once inside, he took the lead and pulled her into the downstairs bathroom. He turned and closed the door behind her, locking it. He clasped her hips and pushed her against the wood. Her hands came up his arms and she dug her fingers into his biceps.