She didn’t doubt he loved her. It was his ability to do anything about his feelings that she didn’t trust. His work would take him away from her, and the lifestyle in L.A. couldn’t possibly compete with small-town life in Acton, Massachusetts. Sure, he said he was tired of the throngs of people and fans, tired of the phoniness in his world, but he’d wither and die here. And she refused to be the reason or the one he grew to resent.
Steeling herself for any discussion he might want to have, she walked back towards the small waiting room and strode through the double doors. There must have been a lull in traffic because the room was empty except for Dylan, who’d curled into the corner of the plastic couch and dozed off. A lock of his hair had fallen over his forehead, and his head rested against his balled-up leather jacket.
Her heart turned over at the sight, and she knelt down next to the couch. “Hey, sleepyhead.” She nudged his arm and tried to wake him, but he’d always been a deep sleeper, so it took a few more tries before he finally jerked his head upward.
“Hey.” He rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Are you all finished?”
She nodded.
“How’s the kid?”
“Other than a few stitches, he’s really lucky. But I doubt he’ll be in the mood to wrestle with his brothers anytime soon.”
Dylan laughed. “He’s lucky to have you as his doctor.” His voice sobered, and Holly sensed his serious mood, return. “I watched you in action, you know.”
Embarrassed, she shook her head. “Once I get started in an emergency, I don’t see much else around me.”
* * *
“I realized that.” Holly’s dedication and abilities hadn’t come as a surprise to him, yet his respect for her had grown tremendously. And in an odd way, seeing her work had validated his decision to leave her behind all those years ago.
He rose and stretched out his muscles, which were cramped from being in one position for so long. “Are you ready to head home?”
“Uh, yeah.” She seemed surprised.
They walked to the parking lot, and he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
She nodded. “I could use a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.”
“Sounds like a definite plan,” he murmured, and in case she wasn?
?t sure what he meant, he nuzzled his lips against her neck and whispered what the two of them could do in that shower before she collapsed from exhaustion in her bed. With him by her side.
She laughed with him, her sexy way of agreeing to his idea. But she still seemed wary.
He guessed she was waiting for him to bring up his comment in her kitchen earlier. He didn’t plan on doing so. In fact, while alone here waiting, he’d decided to continue on as if nothing unusual had happened between them. He had little time before he had to return to L.A. for a meeting with his agent and a movie producer, which had nothing to do with superhero roles and everything to do with a part he was dying to tackle.
He wished he had the luxury of time to lay things out for Holly a little more slowly and with more care than he’d shown by blurting out his feelings in her kitchen. But what he didn’t have in time, they more than made up for in emotional connection. Beyond that, Dylan had no choice but to let fate play itself out.
* * *
After their eventful night, Dylan and Holly slept late. They woke, made love and fell asleep again. The day passed in a delicious way and then they arrived at Dylan’s mother’s house. Dinner at the Northwood house was just like being back in high school, when life was simple and everything seemed rosy and good, Holly thought. She’d called her mother and aunt to say hi before going over to Dylan’s. She missed her mother, but understood her aunt Rose had broken her hip and needed help and so Holly tried not to dwell on the emptiness of being without her own family during the holiday season. And once she arrived at Dylan’s house, that emptiness began to be filled.
Dylan’s mother had cooked dinner, and the house smelled delicious, warm and inviting. His sister, Amy, and her husband, Tom, and their young son, a precocious three-year-old named Matt, sat in the family room in front of the big-screen television Dylan had purchased for his mother’s birthday. Typical males, Dylan and Tom talked football and took turns keeping the fire stoked and the room warm, while Amy and Matt provided the sounds of laughter and squabbling. Amy kept busy diving to keep Matt out of trouble near the hearth and away from an old black Lab that dozed in the corner and whose tail Matt liked to pull.
Holly, after being thrown out of the kitchen for attempting to help, finally settled in beside Dylan, trying desperately not to like the feeling of being part of this family too much. But how could she not enjoy and feel welcome when every so often Dylan would reach out and massage her shoulders or idly twist her hair around his finger as he talked. His family all treated her as if she belonged here, as if she and Dylan had never broken up or been apart.
But most defining for Holly was that here, in his old home, Dylan’s stardom and fame didn’t exist, making it too easy for her to believe in a future. So much so that throughout dinner and dessert, she had to keep reminding herself that she’d succumbed to these fantasies once before and suffered nothing but heartache as a result.
By the time Dylan drove her home, she was stuffed from the good food and overwhelmed by memories and desire. When he turned and asked if he could come in, saying yes came as naturally to her as breathing.
Coming on top of the heavy-duty family scene, Dylan wanted to tread carefully now. Holly had relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen since his return, and he didn’t want to lose that mellow, comfortable mood.
“That was so nice.” She dropped the keys onto the shelf in her front hall. “I love your family.”
“Well, that’s good, because they love you, too.” His gaze darted to hers, wondering if any version of the word love would put her on edge.
“Can I get you coffee or something to drink?”