Evening Stars. Susan MalleryЧитать онлайн книгу.
seen each other in forever, and aside from living on the island, they had nothing in common. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.
If only he wasn’t so tall, she thought, gesturing to the kitchen. Back in high school, Dylan had been what her mother had called dreamy. Now he was successful, polite, employed and still good-looking. The green eyes and strong jaw, not to mention broad shoulders, probably ensured he had a flock of available women at the ready. She wondered why he hadn’t married one of them.
She paused in the middle of the kitchen. No way she was going to bother feeling ashamed of the worn linoleum or ancient cabinets. There had been enough humiliation for one day.
“Wine?” she asked, heading for the small rack on the counter. She pulled out a bottle of red before he could reply. “Or I could make you coffee.”
“Wine sounds good.”
She collected the opener, but before she could do more than reach for the bottle, he was at her side.
“Allow me.”
Such a gentleman, she thought, not sure if she was impressed or annoyed. His mother must be so proud.
He pulled out the cork with a lot less effort than she usually needed, then poured them each a glass. Nina had a brief thought that she should keep some kind of snacky thing around to offer guests. She had kept the leftover brownies, but she wasn’t about to share those. The wine would have to be enough.
She led the way back to the living room and claimed a corner of the sofa. She kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her. Dylan took the chair opposite and raised his glass.
“To old friends.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I assume you mean that in the spirit of friends you haven’t seen in a while and not ‘old’ friends.”
He grinned. “Exactly.” He took a sip of the wine. “Nice.”
“Thanks.”
“So how are things?”
She thought briefly of Tanya and the inventory theft, of the leak in the roof and how she still had to call about getting her car towed. “Great.”
“I heard your sister moved out of state.”
“Averil lives in Mischief Bay. That’s in California, south of Santa Monica.”
“Right. Is she in college?”
Nina smiled. “She graduated a long time ago, Dylan. Averil’s married. She’s a writer for California Girl magazine.”
One brow rose. “Married? Little Averil? I can’t believe it.”
“I know, but it happened.”
“Any kids?”
“Not yet.” She gazed at him over her glass. “You’re not married.”
“Was that a question or a statement?”
“A statement.” She gave him a genuine smile. “Are you forgetting where we are? This island is the definition of a small town. Of course I know everything about you.”
His expression turned wry. “I hope not everything.”
Probably not, she admitted to herself. But there had been a time when she had been the keeper of his secrets and, in theory, his heart.
She’d been fifteen when she’d fallen in love with Dylan. A sophomore in high school. He’d been a senior. She’d tried to conceal her crush, but she’d been unable to look away whenever he was near. One day, at lunch, he’d walked up to her.
When’s your birthday? he’d asked.
In three weeks.
His green eyes had crinkled with laughter. You’ll be sixteen?
Uh-huh.
I’ll wait.
Because fifteen is too young? she’d asked. You do realize that nothing about me will change in the next three weeks. I’ll be exactly who I am.
He shrugged. I’ll wait.
He had, and on her sixteenth birthday he’d asked her out. And he’d kissed her, like no one else had.
There’d been a couple of other kisses before him. Fumbling, stupid kisses at parties where games were used to hide the awkwardness of adolescence. Those kisses had been insignificant. Kissing Dylan had rocked her world.
From that date, they’d been a couple. He’d graduated and gone to college and they’d stayed together. It was when she’d been a few months from graduating high school herself that the trouble had started.
“When do you start work?” she asked as her mind returned to the present. Polite questions for a safer topic.
“Monday.”
“Are you excited?”
His eyebrows rose. “I’m not sure I would describe myself as excited.”
“Your dad is.”
Because there was nothing the senior Dr. Harrington wanted more than his son to join his practice. He’d talked about it from before Dylan was born. Or so the Harrington family lore went.
“I know. He’s been telling me over and over.” Dylan sipped his wine. “He’s already designed new business cards.”
There was something in the way he said the words. “Didn’t you want to come back?”
“Sure.”
She studied him, not sure she believed what he was saying. “You had an obligation. There’s a difference.”
Dylan glanced around the living room. “Where’s your mom?”
“In Montana, on a buying trip.”
His mouth curved up at the corners. “I remember those and her love for the treasures she found.”
“She does like going through other people’s stuff.”
“She runs an antique store.”
An exalted name for Blackberry Preserves, but her mother would enjoy it.
“She’s bringing back less junk these days,” she admitted. “Bertie helps with that. She has a good eye for a bargain.”
“Who’s Bertie?”
Nina raised her chin. “My mom’s lover.”
Dylan’s expression didn’t change. “I thought I heard something about that from my parents. I’m impressed. When did she come out?”
Nina had been hoping for a little more reaction. Something that could make her dislike him. His acceptance was disappointing. “Just over ten years ago. Bertie started coming over. Averil and I thought they were friends. Then Bertie stayed the night a few times. One day Bertie took me aside and said she wanted to move in. She asked if that was okay.”
She smiled at the memory. “I like Bertie a lot. She’s very stable.”
“Meaning you don’t have to be the only grown-up in the room?”
She nodded. Dylan would know all about that. He’d seen what she’d gone through. Sometimes she wondered if knowing about how difficult her family had been was one of the reasons he’d broken up with her.
“It helps.” She shifted on the sofa. “Enough about what’s going on in my family. What about you? Are you staying with your folks?”
He shook his head. “I came to the island a couple of months ago and bought a condo by the marina. I closed on it last week. I’ll be moving in over the next few days.”
He continued talking about the move, but she wasn’t listening. A condo at the marina? No doubt one of those new, fancy ones. With granite counters and a full-time