Aussie Rules (26 page)

“Yeah.” Dimi looked down at her perfectly manicured fingers. “I wanted to talk to you about your lease.”

“Yeah, me, too. I want Bo to add you—”

Dimi was shaking her head. “I don't want to be added.”

“I'll put you on Anderson Air's payroll instead of North Beach's, and that way—”

“Mel.”

“—Because then he wouldn't be responsible for—”

“Mel.”

She stopped talking and now
Mel
felt a little shaky because she knew. Damn it, she knew.

“I'm thinking of doing something new,” Dimi said softly.

Oh, God.
“Dimi.”

“I'm applying to UCSB.”

The university at Santa Barbara.
“College?”

Dimi smiled. “Maybe eventually I'll become that nurse I always dreamed of, working in-flight care.”

Mel gaped. “But…you hate flying.”

“No, I don't hate it. It scares me. But if you can overcome your fears, then so can I.”

“I haven't overcome any fears—”

“You're letting a man in.”

“Bite your tongue! And since when was that a fear of mine?”

“Since your mother left you. Since your father left you. Since Sally left us. Now you have a leaving thing, which means you walk before anyone else gets the idea to do the same. Just ask any guy you've ever dated and then dumped.”

It made Mel's chest ache to think about it. It actually hurt so much she had to lift a hand to rub at the spot, but it couldn't be assuaged. “I'm not afraid of letting people in. I let everyone here in; Char, Al, the guys…I let you in, didn't I?” She forced a smile that faded at Dimi's next words.

“You let us in because we need you, each of us in our own way. Mother-hen-to-chick type of relationships. Face it, honey, you don't know how to be the little chick. You don't know how to lean on someone, or need them.”

“This conversation is about Sally,” Mel said, shaken. “About her illegal tendencies. About how she didn't just screw
us,
she apparently screwed a whole line of people. How the hell did we end up talking about me and all my faults?”

“Because your faults are so cute.”

Mel snorted.

Dimi opened her mouth to say more but she was staring at something over Mel's shoulder, lost in thought, eyes a little dreamy, mouth soft.

Mel craned her neck to see what—or who. Danny had come into the lobby, looking lean and lanky and tough.

Dimi stared at him, gone, just completely gone, including mouth sagging open and drool pooling.

Mel craned her neck to get a better view of Danny to see what she was missing. He had his blond hair pulled back from his face with a plastic tie wrap, his baseball cap on backward, knees ripped out of his coveralls, looking like…well, Danny.

And Dimi was now drooling, practically soaking him up as he headed toward the café. He smiled at Char, who handed him a soda, then leaned his head back and drank.

And from thirty-five feet away, Dimi sighed, audible only to Mel.

When Danny put the drink down, he glanced over. From across the long expanse of the lobby he caught Dimi's gaze, then held it for a long beat before walking back outside, his long, rangy body moving with his usual laid-back ease.

Dimi let out a breath. “Yeah. Still mad at me.”

“What? Why's he mad at you?”

“Forget it. He's just a man. A jerky man.”

“A jerk?”

“He's got a penis, doesn't he?”

“Dimi. The two of you are close friends.”

“Were,” she said toughly, then sagged. “Oh, who the hell am I kidding? It's me. I screwed up, bad. And now I feel funny around him, like I can't breathe normally. I even
sweat
. It's awful.”

Mel sat back, let out a low laugh. She recognized those symptoms! “You're falling for him.”

“No. I'm just getting a bug or something.” She picked up her purse. “I'm out of here.”

“Dimi—”

“I'm going to be fine, Mel. We both are.”

“What about Sally?” Mel asked quietly.

“Oh, no doubt, that one hurts like a son-of-a-bitch, we both know it.”

“She was everything to you. And I've just dropped a bomb in your lap.” Mel wanted to hold on to her and keep her safe. And busy. Very busy. “I think we should go—”

“I told you, I'm fine.” Dimi kissed her cheek, then walked out as well, leaving Mel staring at the door, wanting to believe it.

Needing to believe it.

D
imi got all the way out to her car before she let out a shaky breath. Okay, not quite as steady as she'd thought, but at least it wasn't alcohol related. Nope, this was purely emotional stress.
God, Sally
.

Annoyed at herself for thinking about it, she fumbled through her purse, looking for her car keys, finding instead a pen, her favorite lip gloss, a tampon…

No keys.

“Damn it.” Finally, she dumped the entire contents out on the hood of her car. There was her library card, and that receipt she'd been looking for, but still no keys, though look at that, there was her missing book, with the gorgeous firefighter on the cover, and the wild sex between the pages.

She stared at the mess on her hood, the mess that didn't include keys, and felt the tears building that she hadn't allowed before. Why couldn't she get herself organized? Why couldn't she get it together?

Why had Sally done this to them?

Dimi had built her life on what Sally had done with hers. She'd emulated a woman she admired more than life itself because she'd never had anyone to admire before.

Sally hadn't asked for the hero worship, she'd just lived her life fast and hard and without looking back, as if it could all end at any moment. It had taken Dimi to glom on to that and live that way as well. Her own doing…but to find out that Sally hadn't been worthy of Dimi's admiration at all, that maybe Sally wasn't even her real name…

God.

She felt as if her very foundation had been kicked out from beneath her. Did she still know who she was? Or who she wanted to be? Did she really?

Just a week ago she might have settled the matter by going to a bar and getting shit-faced, then going home with someone gorgeous who could take her mind off everything for a few hours.

But that thought exhausted her now. And left her sad. She wanted…something. Needed…something.

And yet she couldn't put her finger on it. But it sure would be nice if she could put her finger on her keys!

Behind her, someone opened their door. She turned and froze.

Danny.

Perfect. He had his surfboard in the back of his truck, and he'd changed to go surfing, wearing a pair of faded yellow board shorts and battered old flip-flops. His T-shirt was the same color as his baby blue eyes, nearly hidden beneath the baseball cap he had on.

“Hi,” she said, a little breathlessly, painfully aware they hadn't talked since that night he'd driven her home. She missed him, with an ache that nearly brought her to her knees, just from looking at him. But the loss of the friendship had been her own doing. She'd pushed to keep him at a certain distance for years, then breached that distance by asking for help as she'd needed it.

Was it any wonder he'd never made a move on her?

God, the memory of that night at the restaurant made her cheeks burn.

He looked over at her. “You okay?”

It took her a moment to figure out how to answer that but before she could, he let out a low laugh and shook his head. “Never mind. You're fantastic, right? Just like always.”

“Actually,” she said. “I'm not. Fantastic, that is.”

He went still, his gaze not so hidden now.

“And truthfully?” she whispered. “Haven't been for a long time.”

He moved around his truck to come toe to toe with her. “Someone bugging you?”

“No, I don't need rescuing or anything.” She stared down at his feet. They were clean and tanned, and big enough that an inane thought went racing through her mind.

You know what they say about the size of a man's feet…

“I never minded helping you out when you needed it,” he said.

But he
had
minded. It had upset him when she'd gone bar hopping. And bed hopping…

As her friend, he'd worried. And she owed him for that.

He lifted her chin, his fingers on her jaw. His eyes were deep, and filled with things, things that made her swallow hard because she'd never really let herself see them before.

She was seeing them now.

“It's okay not to be fine once in awhile,” he said. “Long as you face it.”

Face it. Something she'd never really tried. “I had some bad news today,” she said. “And it made me sad. That's all. I'm not off to do something stupid or anything.”

“Of course you're not.”

“So you don't have to worry that I'll call you needing—”

“Dimi—”

“Just go surfing, damn it.” She turned away and began to scoop her things back into her purse. She really hoped he'd leave before she had to admit she couldn't find her stupid keys, that she once again needed rescuing. In fact, she'd eat her own purse before admitting she needed help. Again. “Better hurry,” she said. “Before the wind kicks up—”

He pulled her around to face him. “You're finished drinking. Why don't you be finished running, too?”

“What?” Her heart started to pound thickly, heavily. “What are you talking about?”

“You haven't had a drink since that night I picked you up.”

She hadn't kissed anyone, either. She couldn't imagine ever kissing another man now that she'd kissed him. But that he'd noticed she hadn't had a drink…He could have no idea how much that meant to her. “Maybe I go home and get raging drunk every single night.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Your eyes are sharp. You're sharp. You're on your game again. Welcome back, Deem. Now go all the way and face your crap.”

She let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah. Look, not facing my crap is what I do.”

“That's a nice excuse.”

“It works for me,” she quipped, but he didn't smile.

“You didn't drink for pleasure,” he said. “You didn't serial date for pleasure. You did it because you were looking for something.”

“Yeah, looking to lose myself.”

He just looked at her.

“Okay, I was looking for the mind-numbing oblivion.”

He shook his head. “Deem.”

“Well, you got me,” she said with a shrug as if it didn't matter, as if her heart wasn't clogging her throat. “I have no idea.”

“You asked me a question last time we talked,” he said.

Yeah, she'd asked him why he'd never made a move on her. She couldn't go there now. She was too fragile to go there. “Listen, I've got to—”

“We've been friends a long time.”

She closed her eyes.
Friends
. “Yes, I know.” She managed to look at him even though doing so made her chest feel too tight. “Danny—”

“We've talked about everything—work, life, stuff, but…”

The but. She hated the but. She stood there feeling bare-ass naked.

“But you always held a part of yourself back,” he said.

Her secret defense. Laid out.

He put his hands on her arms and gave her a little shake. “It's me, Deem. Me. You can trust me with anything. Especially yourself.”

At that, she opened her eyes, shocked and embarrassed to find them wet.

“I should start with this,” Danny said, looking mad at himself. “You asked me why I never made a move on you—I never did because you've never been open to the kind of move I'd make—”

“Honestly, Danny, we don't need to do this—”

“The permanent kind of move.”

She went still, eyes closed.

“Open your eyes, goddamn it. Maybe the thing you've been looking for is right in front of you.”

She stared at him.

“And maybe,” he went on, his voice low and frustrated, “maybe I'm tired of waiting for you to see it.”

Oh, God. He had no idea. No idea at all. She'd learned so much about herself, just in a week of clear thinking. The partying, the men, none of it appealed anymore, but he appealed. So very much. Still, it hadn't been long enough, and she wasn't ready to trust her heart.

“It's just that I don't want to wake up in the morning after a night of great sex and find you running for the door,” he said roughly. “I don't want to call you and listen to your voice mail because you recognize my number and won't pick up.”

She swallowed the shame and managed to keep looking at him.

“You see yet? I never made a move on you because I knew if I did, it wouldn't last.”

Staggered, she could only stare at him.

“And I don't intend for anything with us to be our last.”

Oh, God. Could he see her heart getting ready to leap right out of her chest? “I…I didn't know that.”

“I realize that. You still don't know all of it. Which is that I'm in love with you.”

Her mouth fell open but nothing came out except maybe a squeak.

A laugh escaped him. “Yeah, and I can see that thrills the hell out of you.” His mouth twisted into a grimace, and he turned back to his truck. Opened the door.

He loved her. He
loved
her. He loved
her
.

By the time she found her voice, he'd already gotten in. “Danny!”

He had his hands on the steering wheel, gripping tight. “Yeah?”

She leaned into the truck to get a good look at his face. His comfortable, kind, and yes, damn sexy face. It was her own shame that it'd taken her so long to see it. “It did.”

“What?”

“It thrilled the hell out of me.” She gulped in a breath. “You know. To hear it. No one's ever…” Here she faltered, but only because it was so important that she get it right. “No one's ever loved me before. Well…Mel does, but I'm thinking that's a different kind of love.”

His smile was slow and real and loosened the vise she'd had on her heart for too long. “Yeah, different.”

“Danny, I have to tell you, I need time to—”

“I know. I'm not going to rush you, don't worry.”

“I have no idea how long I need.”

“So we'll just let it all play out. Get in.” Leaning over to the passenger side, he opened the door.

“But…”

He smiled, and her entire inside melted. “Trust me?” he asked softly.

She smiled helplessly in return. He was the most passionate, wonderful man she'd ever met.

And hot. He was damn hot. “I think I do, actually. But…” He'd said he loved her. She hadn't said it back. She didn't know if she could ever say it back—

“You're thinking too much,” he said.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“Deem, I'm not taking you to elope. Just a ride.”

“Oh.” She laughed at her foolishness and got in.

His smile warmed her as she'd never been warmed. “Been surfing lately?”

Pulling on her seatbelt, she shook her head. “I don't have my bathing suit.”

“Been skinny-dipping lately?”

She tossed her head back and laughed.
Laughed
. “No,” she said, the first thing she'd been certain of all day. “I haven't.”

“Well, then.” His grin was adorable, with a pinch of wicked tossed in.

She loved wicked, and as they peeled out of the parking lot, she laughed again.

 

Mel couldn't sleep. It wasn't the heat, which felt unusually sultry and steamy as thunder clouds moved in. It wasn't worry about her future, she'd signed the lease, which lay folded on her table.

But still, the restlessness rolled through her.

Giving up on bed, she moved to the dark living room, sitting in the picture window as the storm hit, arms curled around her legs, chin on her knees, lost in thought about what she'd learned today about Sally.

It was nearly impossible to reconcile her memories: Sally teaching her to use a wrench, letting her take the controls in the air at age thirteen, showing her how to carefully run a preflight check, and never, ever scrimp on the details…Sally letting her land for the first time, ruffling Mel's hair and saying, “Good job, kid, you're a natural, just like me.”

Sally hugging her hard after getting her pilot's license, her eyes filled with tears, saying, “Stay just as you are, kid, just as you are.”

And Mel saying, “But I want to be just like you,” and Sally slowly, sadly, shaking her head.

“God.” Mel drew a deep breath, and another, but her throat still felt tight, her eyes burned. “Goddamn.” Because how was she supposed to have these good memories while knowing Sally was a criminal who'd hurt innocent people?