CHAPTER NINE
Instinct, for a sailor, was much more important than intellect. It wasn’t that sailors weren’t smart—all those long hours at sea when the winds weren’t cooperating made reading anything you could get your hands on crucial to keep from losing your mind sometimes. It was simply that a great sailor understood that analytics and calculations could never be a match for a wild and beautiful ocean that could easily outmatch the best radar and the newest computer consoles.
After the kiss Dylan and Grace had shared the night before, he believed more strongly than ever that the instincts he had been trusting for thirty-one years were going to lead him in the right direction, yet again. And soon, he hoped, Grace would learn to trust her own instincts again, too, even if she had clearly lifted her guard all the way back up in the wake of last night’s kiss.
Keeping things light and easy all evening at the aquarium, as friends, would hopefully be the first step to truly earning Grace’s heart. Hating that she’d been hurt and felt she needed to be so wary and cautious with him, he silently vowed to do whatever he could to help her learn that it was okay to risk—and to trust him. Still, it wasn’t easy to rein in the fierce urge to yank those walls back down by giving her another kiss.
Mason giggled as a group of koi swam, quick and slippery, beneath his little fingertips in the tank. For the past half hour he’d refused to leave this spot.
“I’ve taken him to aquariums before, but he’s never responded like this. Actually being able to touch and feed the animals makes such a huge difference.” Grace’s eyes were shining with gratitude when she turned to him. “Please thank your friend for agreeing to stay open late so that we could come here tonight. Between Mason’s nap times and my trying to fit in work around them, I would never have been able to work it out.” Turning back to her son, she said, “It’s time to say good-bye to everyone now so that they can close up.”
Dylan did his best not to laugh at Mason’s stubborn look and the slight shake of his head. No question about it, this kid was going to be a handful one day. Just like Dylan and his siblings had been. Still were, actually, despite his mother having said that he’d made it easy on her. She’d been strict about kindness and manners, but in everything else she’d always just let them be kids. Even if getting wild and stupid had sometimes—usually—resulted in banged-up bones and scraped skin.
He was impressed by how well Grace dealt with what might have turned into a tantrum when she started to wave bye-bye to the fish and Mason got so caught up in mirroring her that he forgot about not wanting to leave.
As soon as they walked away from the tank, Mason reached out for Dylan. But instead of passing him over, Grace gave her son a kiss on the forehead and said, “He’s already been carrying you most of the night. You can stay with me for a little while.”
“I’m happy to take him, Grace.”
“I know you are, but—” She scrunched up her nose, looking as cute as her kid always did. “It’s been just the two of us for so long that I guess I’m not yet sure how I feel about him being so comfortable in anyone else’s arms. Which really isn’t fair when I can see how much he likes being around another guy.”
“You’re obviously the most important person in the world to him. But if you ever want to lean on someone else for a while, I’m here.”
He could tell she wanted to ask him why he was already clearly all-in—especially since asking the important questions was a large part of the reason she’d chosen journalism. At the same time, it wasn’t too hard to guess that the reason she didn’t was because she wasn’t yet ready to hear his answer.
“I’ve seen how great you are with Mason,” she said instead, “but you’re also quite a trouper around so many other little kids.”
Not all of the children in the aquarium had been as thrilled to be there as Mason was. In fact, Dylan’s left ear was still ringing from one girl’s high-pitched screams. “I like kids. Even if that one did split a hole in my eardrum.”
Grace laughed. “I thank God every day that Mason is so easygoing. Your mom said you were, too.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What else did she tell you?”
“We didn’t get a chance to talk for very long. Though I wish we had, because I would have liked to know more about your childhood.”
He enjoyed seeing her skin flush as she admitted to wanting to know more about him, and he had to forcibly rein in the urge to reach out to stroke its softness. Especially when her eyes met his and he knew that she was thinking exactly the same thing.
* * *
Grace had reminded herself a dozen times that last night’s kiss with Dylan had been a one-time aberration. She couldn’t repeat it, couldn’t give in to the temptation to start anything with him that went beyond her magazine story and maybe becoming friends. But that had been before she’d seen him with Mason again. The two of them had been absolutely adorable together all night, and more than one woman had looked at her with envy when they’d seen Dylan and Mason playing together.
It would have been so easy to let herself pretend that they were actually a family, that Mason had a father who loved him. But Grace knew better, knew that giving in to fantasies like that would only make it harder to go back to being just the two of them. Still, it wasn’t at all easy to keep her walls up during one of the most enjoyable evenings out in a very long time.
“I was thinking we could get something to eat nearby,” Dylan said, “but Mason is probably going to hit the wall soon, isn’t he?”
Her son wasn’t giving any indication that he was at all tired—in fact, just the opposite, as being with Dylan had made him more bright-eyed and excited than ever—but Grace knew firsthand just how quickly smiles could change to tears when Mason was overtired. Clearly, Dylan had a sixth sense for kids. Women, too, given how well he’d done with her tonight. He hadn’t tried to kiss her, hadn’t tried to pressure her in any way into feeling that this was a date. And with nothing to push against, she’d ended up relaxing more and more into the evening.
At this point, her guard had pretty much come down all the way. Which was precisely why she knew she should take the easy out and cut off their evening there. They’d all had fun, and if she and Mason headed home now from their perfectly friendly aquarium trip, there wouldn’t be a chance for another kiss like the one she and Dylan had shared last night.
But when she opened her mouth to thank him for a great evening and say good night, what came out instead was, “I could make us something to eat back at my place.”
Both Dylan and Mason smiled, already two peas in a pod. “Sounds good to me,” Dylan said as he gave her son’s little hand a high five.
The first thing Grace did when they got back to her apartment was open a bottle of wine and pour them each a glass. Before Dylan could take a sip, Mason crawled over with a toy car in each hand and tugged on his leg.
“You want to race? I was going to help your mommy with dinner, but if you need a playmate...”
She laughed, easily guessing Dylan wasn’t much for working in the kitchen. “I’m making the easiest, quickest dinner in history, so I don’t need any help. Go play. I hope you like spaghetti and salad.”
“Love it.” He grinned down at her son. “And I love racing cars, too.”
As he went to sit in the middle of the living room rug where Mason gleefully crashed their cars together, she was struck by how easy this was. The one time she’d made dinner for her ex, desperate not to disappoint him, she’d spent days planning the menu and then hours that night putting it all together. And even then, she hadn’t gotten the sense he was particularly impressed, not when Michelin-starred chefs were much more his speed. Plus, he’d been far more interested in getting her into bed than in eating dinner together.
Tonight, however, it was really nice to have company while she worked in the kitchen, listening to Mason and Dylan drive toy cars on the living room floor.
When Mason crawled off to gather up more cars to share with his new best friend, Dylan asked, “When did you decide you wanted to be a writer?”
“To be honest, I don’t think I really gave anything else a chance. I always loved to read anything I could get my hands on, and English was my favorite subject at school.”
“You probably turned in your book reports early, didn’t you?”
“I know, I was a weird kid,” she said with a laugh. “What about you? What was your favorite class?”
“Summer.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much in one night. “After that? No,” she said as she turned from the stove, “let me guess. Physics. Math, probably, too. Because both subjects would help you make sense of the way a boat moves and how it’s put together.”
Dylan reached for Mason and pulled him onto his lap. “Your mommy knows stuff, kid. Which means you’re never going to get away with anything.” Mason was rubbing his eyes and yawning as Dylan stood up with him. “You’re one hell of a writer, Grace.”
She was plating their spaghetti and nearly spilled it onto the counter in her surprise. “You’ve read my work?”
“I’m not surprised you won an award for your coverage of that huge earthquake in Chile a few years back. Your love for writing well-researched and compassionate stories comes through on every page.”
Her flush, she decided, could be explained by standing over a hot stove, although they both knew it had far more to do with how much his compliment meant to her.
“Thanks.” She brought their plates over to the table. “I can take him while we eat.”
“We’re good,” Dylan said, making it seem like the most natural thing to eat his dinner with a ten-month-old on his lap, just as he had last night at his parents’ house.
“He’s usually already sacked out by this time in the evening. I think he was just so excited by having you here that he wanted to squeeze every ounce of playtime out of you.”
“I know exactly how he feels,” Dylan said as Mason nuzzled his head closer against his shoulder and closed his eyes. He looked up from her son, his gaze quickly shifting from affection for the baby to heat for her. “It’s been a good night, hasn’t it?”
“It has.” She made herself pick up her fork and twirl spaghetti onto it even though she didn’t think she’d be able to eat much with Dylan so close…and so male. “It’s nice having a friend to spend time with.”
She half-expected him to point out that by now they had clearly transitioned from just friends. But Dylan, she was learning, rarely did what people expected him to. So after telling her that her spaghetti dinner might very well rival his Aunt Mary’s, he said, “Tell me about your folks.”
She couldn’t stop the rush of anguish. “They’re both gone.”
He put his fork down and reached across the table to cover her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I am, too.” The warmth, the strength of his hand over hers helped to ground her. “My mother got sick with lung cancer when I was in elementary school. She had never smoked, but her father had been a heavy smoker during her childhood. My father and I, we were both devastated, but he never missed a beat. He was there for me every single second. We had always been close, but we became an even tighter unit after my mom died.” She turned her hand palm up so that she could grip Dylan’s. “Two years ago, he was coming home from a baseball game when someone who had been drinking heavily at the same game drove through a red light. The paramedics said he died instantly, that he probably felt no pain.” But she had. Pain that could still spear her from out of the blue. “I miss him every day, so much, just the way I still miss my mom. But never more than when Mason does something new, like his first smile, or when he started to crawl. My father, my mother—they will never get to see those things. And Mason will never get to know his grandparents.”
She didn’t know when Dylan moved close enough to pull her against him so that the baby was leaning against one broad shoulder and she was in the crook of the other.
“They raised one hell of a woman, Grace. And you’re doing just as great a job with Mason.”
“He looks like my father. The same eyes. The same silly grin.”
Mason blinked bleary eyes open and reached for her then, and she knew she was going to pay the next morning for keeping him up so far past his bedtime, but she hadn’t wanted the evening with Dylan to end, either. Not when it truly had been a perfect night.
So perfect that she didn’t think she could live with herself if she didn’t explain precisely why she was so intent on them being “just friends” after a kiss that had proved they could be so much more.
“I know we’ve only just started to eat, but I need to put Mason to bed. But, please, stay and finish dinner. And if you wouldn’t mind staying a little longer, I’d like to answer the question you asked me last night.”
“Of course I’ll wait, Grace. As long as you need me to.” He gave Mason a kiss on the forehead. “Good night, little guy. Sweet dreams.”
Mason’s eyes fluttered open again, and when he puckered up his lips to give Dylan a good-night kiss—something he’d only ever given her before tonight—Grace’s heart flip-flopped inside her chest.
From the look on Dylan’s face, she knew his had, too.