“Hey, um, I’m sorry.” Stephanie had followed her.
Riley nodded.
“I shouldn’t have pressed you like that. I don’t know you. And I’m realizing, too late, that my brother would not be grateful for my interference just now.”
“He’s lucky to have you,” Riley said. “But I agree. He would really, really not like what just happened in there.” She glanced sideways at Stephanie.
She breathed out a laugh. “Oh, he’d kill me.”
“Stephanie—”
Stephanie put her hand up. “You don’t need to say anything. You’re right. You have a right to privacy just as much as Mark does. I just—I hope I didn’t ruin anything between you and my brother. Whatever it is.”
Riley sighed, her breath visible in the frosty night air. “It’ll be fine,” she said, but immediately wondered how it could be.
“Good. Like I said, I’m overprotective. He’s been through a lot. But he trusts you.” She held her hand out once more. “Start over?”
Riley took her hand, and they shook.
“I’m Stephanie Grady. I believe you know my brother, Mark.”
Riley nodded. “I’m having Thanksgiving with him and your dad.” Riley shrugged at Stephanie’s look of surprise. “They’ve been good to me.”
“Well,” Stephanie said, hugging herself in the cold. “Curiouser and curiouser.” She nodded to the door behind her. “We should probably go inside before Brian gets worried. Pretty sure he thought I had plans to take you out.”
Riley huffed. “He isn’t the only one.”
Stephanie grinned. Mark was right; his sister had her own kind of fire.
They turned to go inside, but Stephanie spun back to face her and Riley halted.
“Just . . . be careful with Mark. Okay?” She searched Riley’s face with sincere concern.
Riley nodded. “Of course.” She left unsaid the words that weighed on her heart: That’s just it, Stephanie. He doesn’t want to be treated carefully.
When they returned, a look of unveiled relief passed over Brian’s face. Even Dalton seemed to dial down his touchy-feely possessiveness and let the evening take its course in pleasant conversation between friends.
After dinner, Riley sat in frustrated silence as Dalton drove her home. Every time she opened her mouth to say something about her relationship with Mark or to ask about the fact that Dalton knew Stephanie would be at dinner, she stopped herself. The words “everybody knows everything about everybody” tied her tongue and head in knots.
A year ago, she wouldn’t have let any of it get under her skin. A year ago, she’d been in Hollywood, seeing a man she thought she might have a future with, oblivious to the microscopic lens that was even then magnifying and distorting everything when it came crashing down. She thought she’d escaped that kind of scrutiny. Turns out she’d jumped into the hometown beating heart of it.
Dalton glanced at her hands as she wrung them in her lap, and she moved them to her knees.
“So, are you going to tell me about this project you’re working on?”
“No,” she said, looking straight ahead. The sign for the Cashmere exit passed by.
“Why not?”
“Because Miracle Creek is a small town. And this is a surprise.”
“Ah, a mystery,” he said.
“No. Mysteries are meant to be solved. This project isn’t open for investigation.”
He laughed. “Okay, okay. Subject closed. I was just taking an interest in what you do outside the classroom.” He cocked his head. “And in that little place of yours.”
“There’s a lot of that going around,” she murmured at her window as he took the Miracle Creek turnoff.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Nothing. Thank you for dinner. The company was . . . enlightening. I can see why you enjoy coaching with your staff.”
“I’m glad you had a good time.” He passed the park with its towering pines and flagpole. Several trees were draped in lights.
She looked at the Grill-n-Go across the street. Considering what Mark would think of this dinner with his sister unsettled her stomach.
She hadn’t wanted these complications. She had rules for this stuff.
Dalton parked in front of her house, leaning toward her as if he were going to share a secret. “You being there tonight was infinitely better than facing a dinner like that alone.”
“I can imagine.” She picked up her purse, but Dalton placed his hand over hers.
“I’d be a fool,” he said quietly, “if I didn’t ask you to join me for dinner again. Maybe somewhere a little less”—he bobbled his head—“crowded. My place? Saturday?”
He looked at her, hopeful.
“I’m busy Saturday,” she said, smoothly pulling her hand from beneath his and placing it on the door handle.
“All day? We can get dinner afterward. Take it to my place?”
His lack of receiving her obvious messages was wearing thin. She sighed. “I have other plans. And I have to get back to work now. But thank you for a night out. You were right. I did need the break.” And some perspective.
He moved to get out and walk her to the door.
“No, I’m fine,” she said. “I really do need to hustle. Deadline looming. I’ll see you on Monday.” She practically leapt out of her seat and hurried to her front door.
Inside, she placed her hand to her head and leaned against the door. She still felt like she needed a break. Or a bollen, at least.
A knock at the door made her jump. She opened it to find Dalton looking expectant. She put her hand on her hip. “I thought we said good night.”
He cocked his head. “Did we though? The last thing I wanted to do was scare you off.”
“I need to get back to work.”
He stepped into the doorway. “I’m worried about you, new girl,” he said as he pushed past her. “All work and no play makes for a lonely night.” He reached to pull her jacket off.
She stepped away, keeping her cool. “I’m not lonely, and I didn’t invite you in. I’m working because it’s what I enjoy and because I keep my commitments.”
He paused at that last part, then leaned toward her. “And what commitments might those be?”
She said nothing, her grip still on the open door. A
