CHAPTER FIVE

Elaina—

We cross the mountains, and the scenery is stunning. I've seen them from a distance, but driving through them is epic. Before we get to Durango, we switch places, and Dylan takes the wheel since he knows where he's going. Driving into town, he takes us down a quaint Main Street with block after block of shops, cafés, and bars. There are even a couple of historic hotels that he tells me date from the eighteen hundreds.

"Wow. I love this place. It's filled with such charm." I crane my neck to take it all in. "Do you live nearby here?"

"Close enough."

"I can't wait to check out all these shops."

He stops at a red light and grins at my enthusiasm. "Have you traveled much?"

"Not at all. Just my hometown and downtown Denver. I guess that's pretty pathetic, huh? Have you traveled a lot?"

"I've seen a good bit of this country."

"You'll have to show me your town."

"I'd love to." Flicking on the blinker, he takes us down a side street and up a hill.

We pass a burger joint on the left, and Dylan points at it. "That place has the best burgers in town. No lie. Maybe we'll walk down and get one tonight."

"So your house is that close?"

"Right up there." Just before the street dead ends at a cross street, he turns in the driveway of the house on the corner. It looks like a big craftsman style, and the first thing I notice is that the drive goes between the house and a freestanding garage with an apartment over it. Connecting the two structures is a massive deck that spans the space like a bridge over our heads.

"Wow. This is your place?" I ask, staring up at it.

"My grandmother left it to me."

I point to the apartment over the garage. "Do you rent that out? Is someone living there?"

"I usually do, but my last tenant took a job in Phoenix a couple months ago. I haven't gotten around to putting it on the market, so it's all yours while you're here if you want. Otherwise, there's a guest room in the house." He shuts the car off and shoulders the door open. "Come on. I'll show you around, and you can have your pick."

There's a big black pickup parked in the drive, and I can only assume it's his. "Nice truck."

"Thanks." He grabs my two suitcases out of the back.

I clip Rosie's leash on her, and she jumps from the car, pulling on the leash and eager to sniff out the tall Ponderosa Pine in the yard. Once she pees, I follow Dylan up a flight of steps onto the deck. "You have a great view from up here."

There's a small fire pit with some seating around it.

"Yeah, I come out here a lot."

In addition to the seating area, there's also a table and chairs and a grill. The apartment over the garage has its own private balcony overlooking the street.

He closes the gate to the steps. "You can unleash Rosie. She can't get out."

I bend and unclip her. She happily trots around, sniffing her new surroundings. Dylan holds the door for me, and I walk into the main house. We come into a living area with large craftsman windows overlooking the side street. Immediately on the right I see a bedroom through a door. The king size bed is made, and there's no clutter.

Beyond the living area is an open kitchen on the left with an island that overlooks a dining room on the right. Everything is neat and tidy, and I'm a little shocked. Elliott's place was always a mess.

Dylan sets my bags inside the door and moves to the fridge. "You want a beer?"

"Sure."

He grabs a couple longnecks, twists the caps off, then holds one out to me. I take a seat on one of the island's barstools. "This place is gorgeous."

"Thanks. I've done most of the remodeling myself. It was in pretty rough shape when my grandmother passed away. She had a ton of stuff, lots of collections. She was well known in the art scene around here in the seventies."

"Really? How fascinating. So, she was an artist?"

"Yeah." He tips his beer, pointing with the neck of the bottle. "That painting is one of hers, and that sculpture in the corner."

I crane my neck and look at first the painting. It's a beautiful poppy flower in bright reds and orange. The sculpture is the torso of a woman's nude body. It's really good. "Wow. She was talented."

"She was."

"Did Elliott inherit any of her things?"

"Nope. She never got along with him. She left everything to me."

"He never talked about her."

"She was my maternal grandmother. My father never liked her, so we rarely ever saw her. He thought she was eccentric. She moved to Durango when she became a widow. We were little then. I barely remember my grandfather. I only reconnected with her after I got out of the military. I came to visit and just sort of stayed. I was here with her until the day she died."

"When was that?"

"About five years ago."

"I'm sure she loved having you here."

"She did. She was an old soul, but she had a wonderful sense of humor. She lived life to the fullest. I was lucky to spend her final years with her."

"She was lucky to have you."

He takes a hit off his beer. "Come on. I'll show you the guest room."

Leaving my beer on the island, I follow him to a set of stairs that lead down. The house is on a slope, so there are windows in the lower level. There's a bedroom on one side and an office of sorts on the other. It looks like it's mostly used for storage. The bedroom is neat and clean, but small.

He points toward a door. "There's a small bathroom through there."

"I'm sure this will be fine."

"Well, let me show you the apartment. Maybe you'd like it better."

I follow him up the stairs, through the house, and across the deck.

He unlocks a door and leads me into a spacious room with a tiny kitchenette against one wall. There's a nice size bathroom and a slider leads to a small private deck overlooking the side street.

"This is lovely."

"Then it's yours," he says, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely. No sense in it sitting empty."

"Thank you."

"I'll make us something to eat, and let you get settled then."

"Do you need any help?"

"Nope. I've got it covered. Come to the house when you're through unpacking."

Twenty minutes later, I've got everything put away. I unpack Rosie's bowls and bag of food and set it on the deck for her. She digs in, and I wander into the main house.

The moment I enter, a delicious aroma hits my nose.

Dylan is in the kitchen, chopping green onions. He glances over his shoulder. "You want another beer? Sorry, I'm not much of a wine drinker."

"Can I help?"

"Nope. Just sit your pretty self on a stool and watch." He moves to the fridge and grabs another bottle, twisting the top off and sliding it across to me.

"Thanks. What are you making? It smells amazing."

"Pork and Peanut Dragon Noodles. My grandmother loved Asian food. She taught me this one. It's got her amazing Dragon Sauce."

"What's in that?"

"Soy sauce, brown sugar, and chili garlic sauce."

"Sounds delicious."

He pauses. "You're not allergic to peanuts, are you?"

"Nope."

"Good. Because if you were, that would tank this whole dinner."

I chuckle, sip my beer and sit back to watch him work. The pork is sizzling in a skillet. "I'm amazed you had all these ingredients handy since you've been out of town."

He meets my eyes with a grin. "I was only gone one night."

After draining the grease from the skillet, he takes a bowl and pours the sauce over the meat and adds chopped peanuts, stirring it with a wooden spoon. Then he drains what looks like ramen noodles into a colander and sets it aside, returning to stir the meat.

He glances back. "There are bowls in that cabinet. Grab us two."

I slip from my stool and open the upper cabinet. I find a stack of beautiful Asian designed shallow bowls. I grab two. "These are stunning."

"Gran got them on one of her trips." He points to a drawer. "Chopsticks if you're daring. Forks if you're not."

Sliding the drawer open, I grab two sets of chopsticks. "I can't promise I'm any good with these, but I'll give it a go."

"Brave girl." He winks and adds the noodles to the skillet, mixing them in, then topping them with another handful of nuts and the chopped green onion. He holds out his hand, and I pass him a bowl. He grabs a set of tongs and puts a serving in the bowl. I pass him the other and we carry our meal to the table.

He retreats to the fridge to grab himself another beer, then sits catty-corner from me.

I fumble with the chopsticks, and he repositions my grip.

"This way. See?" He guides my hand.

I get a portion and carry it to my mouth, then moan around the delicious flavor exploding in my mouth. "This is amazing."

"Thanks." He digs into his own.

Once I chew and swallow, I study him. "So, you're good looking, sweet, and can cook. Why aren't you snatched up?"

"Snatched up?"

"Married. Significant other. You know."

"Ah, well, sometimes things just don't work out, ya know? Besides, I don't cook for many women."

"Then I feel honored I get to appreciate your awesome gift."

He actually blushes and reaches for his beer. "Thanks."

"So, I never asked. What do you do for a living? Do you have work tomorrow?"

"I sell stuff online."

"Really? Like what?"

"Prints of my grandmother's artwork." He nods to the red poppy painting. "That's one of her biggest sellers. I keep her website running. She had quite a loyal following. I've turned her stuff into calendars, greeting cards, mugs, aprons, even dishtowels."

I turn and look at the painting. "That's so cool."

He shrugs. "I sell a lot of other stuff, too. Whatever's trending online."

"Like one of those drop shipping sites, you mean?" I stuff another bite in my mouth, fumbling with the chopsticks.

"Yeah, exactly." He laughs at my efforts. "It pays the bills."

"Do you do the shipping, too?"

"Nah. The place I sourced to print her merchandise does all that for me."

I tilt my head. "This is all so fascinating."

We eat in silence for a couple of minutes, and I finish my helping.

"You want some more?" he asks, lifting his chin to my bowl.

I rub my stomach. "I'm full. Thank you. That was delicious. I'd ask for the recipe, but I'm not much good in the kitchen. Except baking. I love to bake."

"That so? You'll have to bake me something then. What are your specialties?"

"Banana bread. Red Velvet cupcakes, and I have a fantastic recipe for chocolate chip cookies with pecans."

"Damn. It all sounds good." He grins. "Maybe you'll have to pay rent in baked goods."

"I'd love to make you something."

"I'll have to take you to the grocery store tomorrow to get what you need." He stands and carries both our bowls to the sink. "Want to sit on the deck for a bit?"

"Sure. Sounds great." I follow him out.

We each settle in Adirondack chairs situated around a small metal fire pit.

"This is nice." Rosie noses my hand until I pet her. After a few ear scratches, she settles at my feet.

Dylan stretches his long legs out and settles in his chair.

I feel his eyes on me. "What?"

He shakes his head and looks away.

"Uh, no. Tell me."

"You given any more thought to my asshole brother and what you're going to do?"

"It's painful to think about. I think you were right. I just need some time and distance before I make any decisions."

"Has he called?"

I nod. "I turned my ringer off, but, yes. There are a bunch of missed calls. I'm not ready to talk to him again." My jaw tightens. He didn't even apologize when I threw my knowledge of Madison in his face, just kept up his lies and tried to make me feel like I was crazy. I shake my head. I don't want to think about that now. "But my mother knows I'm safe."

"You're welcome to stay here for as long as you need. I mean that."

"Thank you for everything you've done. Really. You've been amazing about all this."

"I'm sorry my brother is the way he is."

"I can't believe he had me so fooled. I really thought he was a great guy. I thought we'd have that happily ever after."

"I get that, but that was all a fa?ade. Maybe you don't feel that way now, but I'm glad you got out in the nick of time."

I stare at my hands.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad."

"It's okay." I lift my chin to the lights of a diner down the street, glimmering in the darkness. "That place any good?"

"It is. They make a fantastic burger, and their onion rings are out of this world. Great milkshakes, too." He stares at me for a moment. "How about we walk down and get dessert? You can even bring Rosie. We can sit on the patio."

"I'd like that."

I put Rosie on her leash, and we walk down the street, taking our time and letting Rosie smell every tree, until I'm laughing and apologizing. "She's usually not like this."

"No problem."

The restaurant is cute, with a walk-up window for outside diners. We get a table, and Dylan goes up and places our order, then returns with our shakes and a small bowl.

"This is for Rosie. They keep doggie ice cream on hand. Can she have it?"

"Sure."

He sets it down, and she digs in.

"You're making fast friends with her. She'll be lying next to your chair before I know it."

"Nah. She looks like a loyal dog." He scratches her ears, then lifts his head to look behind me as the sound of several motorcycles come up the street.

I spot three bikes turning into the lot. The men climb from them, and I see the patches on their backs. The top rocker reads, Royal Bastards. The bottom rocker reads, Colorado.

"How's your shake?" Dylan asks, drawing my head around.

I take a sip. "It's really good."

"Rosie finished?" he asks.

I lean to look, and when I straighten, I think I catch Dylan making a motion with his hand. I turn behind me, and see the three bikers heading to the window, glancing toward our table.

"So, maybe we should take these to go," Dylan says, standing.

"Oh, okay." He seems a little nervous, and I wonder if it's the bikers showing up.

He holds his hand out to me, and I slip mine in his grasp. He seems in a hurry, so I don't say anything, just follow him to the street.

I look over my shoulder. "Are those guys trouble?"

"They can be."

"Are there a lot of them in this town?"

"About a dozen. They pretty much stick to themselves. It's best to avoid them."

"Right." We walk to his place, and his phone goes off.

He looks at the screen, then disconnects the call and sends a text.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

He glances over. "What? Oh, yeah. Just a buddy of mine wondering if I'm back in town. He wants to get together."

"You should totally go. I still have some unpacking to do," I lie.

"You sure? I hate to leave you alone."

"I have Rosie. I'll be fine. Right? I mean, your neighborhood seems safe."

"It is."

"Then you should see your friend."

"Okay. If you're sure."

When we reach his house, I head toward the small apartment, and he heads inside.

I'm at the closet hanging some shirts when I hear the garage door below me go up. A moment later, I hear a motorcycle roar off, but by the time I get to the window, Dylan is gone.