Page 105 of Silver-Tongued Devil
“That thing she said tonight about you going away soon, you mean.”
A lurch of his heart. “You noticed. And what can I say? ‘No, I’m not’? Of course I am. ‘Come with me’? She can’t. She’s got Russell. And anyway—what? She’s flying around with me, sleeping in hotels? How’s she going to do her work?”
“It does seem like you think you have a problem.”
Another stab of irritation. “I don’t think. I know.”
“Or,” his mother said, “it could be that you’re looking at it the wrong way around.”
“Like what? I’ve looked at it every way. I’ve done nothingbutlook at it.”
“Let me ask you a question, then. You think an adult life has to look like your dad’s and mine, like some idea you have of ‘family life’ and ‘marriage’ and how those things are supposed to work. Is that about it?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Why?What do you mean, why?”
“I mean, do you imagine that’s the life everybody would have if they could choose it? Or is that their life because they have no choice? What kind of life would you choose if you could have exactly what you wanted?”
“What?” This wasn’t helping a bit. “Why can’t you ever just answer, instead of asking more questions? I have enough questions.”
“Oh, you probably know that, too.” She stood up, stretched, and yawned in her fleecy robe and slippers. “Because my answer doesn’t matter. What matters isyouranswer.” She bent and gave him another kiss. “Goodnight, honey. I think I can sleep now. I hope you can.”
He put his arm around her waist and said reluctantly, “I’m never sure whether you’re incredibly annoying, or you’re brilliant.”
She laughed out loud. “Oh, honey, I imagine I’m both. Just like you.”
It was the Fourth of July, his resort was opening, and it was crazy. Blake was a veteran of opening days, of events, of pageantry. This was different, though, and it was new. This washisevent. And Dakota hadn’t arrived.
The grand lobby of the resort was a sea of people. Townspeople and hotel guests, and here and there, an oversized hulk representing the NFL. People drinking and talking, seeing and being seen, being photographed for every bit of media his publicity department had been able to come up with. All those people, but no Russell, and no Dakota.
“Hey. How you doin’,” he said to the mayor. He shook hands and saw the mayor’s nephew, one Steve Sawyer, near the entrance, part of a group clustered around Dakota’s eagle. He hoped they noticed the plaque on the wall, realized who’d made that thing, and burned.
He didn’t see Steve’s cousin the sheriff, but he was here somewhere, too, together with two deputies. Supplementing Blake’s security force, he hoped. So far, the night had been uneventful, and he wanted it to stay that way.
The mayor said, “This is quite the turnout. Did you sell out the hotel?” But Blake barely heard him.
There she was, coming through the front door with Russ.
Russell was wearing his turquoise string tie and white shirt again. And Dakota? Dakota was wearing her dress. Black, with huge pink flowers. And the shoes. Four-inch heels, a delicate ankle strap, and the top cut out in a dainty flower pattern all the way to the pointed toe.
Those shoes were black, and they were killer. All that body, all that bare leg in four-inch black heels… Lord have mercy.
She’d turned, then, to talk to somebody. Evan, in a white shirt and black jeans. Cowboy black tie. Blake wasn’t looking at Evan, though, because he could see Dakota’s back now. That pink ribbon drifting down to her hem, the curve of her hips. The devastating flash of honey-colored skin from her bared shoulder, the wing of her shoulder blade. And the vulnerable, sweet nape of her neck. He could see that because her hair was up, pulled softly into a knot that was just rumpled enough.
She’d worn her hair up. Just like he’d asked her to.
“. . . wouldn’t you say?” the mayor asked.
“Excuse me,” Blake said, and took off.
It took him a while to get to her. People turning, men putting their hands out to shake. A question about football, an introduction.
No, not a while. Forever.
Blake was near the door at last, and there was one last obstacle. Ingrid, talking to Dakota like they were friends.
