Page 53 of Dahlia Made A List

Did wishing on a shooting meteor work as well as wishing on a shooting star?

And after all that, here he sat this morning; taking in the pretty Blue Ridge, sipping coffee he made over the fire pit, looking at me like he’d be having me, again, for breakfast.

I shivered.

Just a fuckwouldn’t work for me. I’d come too far to fall back now. But this was Wyatt.

Something dark flickered in his brown eyes, something that raised the tiny hairs along the back of my arms and made the starling in my chest cock her head. As much as I wanted the label of “his”, I didn’t want to mess up whateverthiswas either.

And the scary truth? I’d done a lot of growing since splitting with Bozo Brandon. I knew a lot more about myself, what I was capable of, what I needed and what I wouldn’t settle for. But Wyatt? If he wanted to keep thisjust a fuck, I was terrified I’d let him. I was terrified I’d betray all the ground I’d covered, all the strengths I’d revealed about myself and probably bury any chance for future happiness for whatever temporary crumbs he deigned to drop my way.

Because Sunday dinner with his family surely proved I wasn’t the girl for his future. But maybe he’d be patient. Maybe I could become someone good enough to take to dinner and not leave him embarrassed.

My phone chirped from my pocket. Dropping my gaze from his and digging it out with trembling fingers, I swiped to open the reminder I’d set about my schedule this week. The driver’s test. I fumbled through the links and pulled up the practice quiz. Exactly what I needed to distract myself from spiraling thoughts that couldn’t be answered today. Wyatt was here, we’d had sex and it’d been amazing and who knew what tomorrow would bring. Dwelling on the questions ricocheting through my brain wouldn’t get me anywhere.

I inhaled a steadying breath and sought his eyes again. “I’ll be taking my driving test soon.”

The corner of his lips turned up. “What if the instructor asks you to take a left?”

“I’ll hope we’re in a parking lot or a quiet neighborhood.” I’d worried about this driving test long enough. I wouldn’t be able to make a left across oncoming traffic. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to, but at least now I could sometimes drive straight past oncoming traffic, thanks to Wyatt’s patience.

I held my phone out to him. “Quiz me on the written exam?”

Ignoring my extended hand, he shoved up from the deck chair, wheeling around on his bare feet back toward the yurt. “Gotta get packed up.”

My shoulders sagged and I let my hand drop into my lap.

Chapter Nineteen

Wyatt

We’dcomebackfromthe mountain this morning and somehow fell into a laidback day of me tinkering around The Royal and her working on her derby skills. She said the team would be deciding the newbie placements soon and she was hoping to make the competitive team. Either way, she’d made the derby team in Richland. Another item checked off her list.

The projector house sat at the front of the drive-in lot, nothing between the building and the fifty foot wall. Back in the day, there would have been a monster of a projection machine pointed out the narrow window toward the screen. Huge, unwieldy film reels, the click and hum of the machine underscoring the movie showing outside.

But we didn’t live back in the day. These days with everything going digital, I’d needed an upgrade. I’d ordered a new projector months ago. By far the biggest ticket item and not an expense the rest of the family knew anything about.

When the company came out and installed the thing, I’d been surprised at the size, even after months of scrutinizing pictures of the machines online. I wouldn’t be storing reels, and the machine itself wasn’t much smaller than the old ones.

A car door slammed shut outside and pulled me away from fiddling with the newest addition to the projection house. Stepping up to the small window, I spotted Waylon’s red G-Wagon.

Just shy of two years older, my brother and I should have been close. But even as boys, we’d never connected. Despite sharing interests that could have paralleled, even through school and family events and all the interaction, forced and otherwise, we never bonded.

With my hand resting on the cement block wall, I studied Waylon as he headed toward the open garage bay. My car sat inside, Dahlia’s El Camino parked in front beside the truck. Maybe he wouldn’t notice Dahlia skating on the freshly paved asphalt circling the center parking. He’d never think to check the projector building. Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d give up and take off.

Because who would miss a gorgeous woman with pink and peach and gold hair skating circles around an abandoned drive-in?

I folded the laptop closed, and pushed out the creaky old door and into the golden glow of a Virginia sunset. Clear skies boded well for the weather. Thank fuck, since I had big plans for tonight.

Waylon had found Dahlia, his head fixed in her direction as she made another circuit of the lot. I uncurled my fist as I reached him, my boots cracking on the pavement to announce my arrival. At the sound, my brother jerked his gaze from my woman.

“Done a lot of work on the place, Wyatt. Sure seems like a lot of money to waste.”

I grunted.

My brother narrowed his eyes on me. “Minerva won’t talk to me about selling the place.”

Why would she? She had a buyer as soon as she stopped playing games. I turned to watch Dahlia skate, her toned legs pushing her closer. She wore a pair of white cut-offs and a white tank top with a pink bra underneath that kept my attention. As she intended.

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