DirtyBeautiful (10 page)

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The following evening, Erica sat on her couch, tucked under
her comforter, reading her book. Caught up in Lady Emily’s luscious tryst, she
shrieked when her cell vibrated. She picked it up. “Hello.”

“Erica?”

Her stomach pitched at the sound of
his
voice.
“Greg?”

The sexy chuckle she knew so well rumbled over the line. It
used to make her heart flutter, but now it reminded her of the smooth lies he
told her. “Who else would it be, sugar?”

“What are you doing calling me?”

“I just missed you. I was hoping you had calmed down enough
so we can discuss what happened.”

Anger fired through her veins and started a buzz in her
ears. “Discuss what? You
cheated
on me, Greg, and lied about it.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“You slept with a girl named Sparkle. Sparkle, Greg! Did you
even once think about the hurt you caused me?”

“It didn’t mean anything, you know that,” he implored.

Erica straightened, nails digging into the armchair. “It
didn’t mean
anything
to you? It meant
everything
to me.”

“But I love—”

“No! Don’t call me again!” She hung up with a shriek.

Heart racing, she glared at the opposite wall. How dare he
think to even contact her? She blew out a breath through her nose, furious
Beverly had opened her mouth. Erica didn’t doubt for one minute that Greg
called simply to remind her he existed and to ensure, mistakenly, that she
would be too wrapped up in him to find another man. Overgrown ego much?

Fuming in silence, she gave in and called Tammy.

“Yo.”

Erica rolled her eyes. “Who does that? I mean really?”

“I do. I’m hip and into it.”

“You try too hard to keep up with your kids. It’s just
lame.”

“Yeah I know. They said nobody says ‘cool’ anymore. Can you
believe it? So, to what do I owe this honor to?”

“Greg.”

Silence stretched over the line. “He’s not there, is he?”

“No, but he better be damn glad he’s not. He called me to
tell me that he misses me and loves me.”

“Oh don’t make me gag.”

Erica growled, venting part of her anger. “I know, right? I
knew this would happen. I
knew
it. Beverly and her big mouth.”

Tammy sighed. “Beverly doesn’t want to acknowledge her son
is a self-absorbed pig, destined for nowhere fast.”

“I thought I’d gotten over what he’d done to me…but I just
haven’t. I feel used and just vile.”

“Oh honey. I know what would make you feel better.”

“What?”

“There’s a smokin’ hot man next door! Go over there.”

Erica grimaced. “I’m not going to use him like that, Tammy.”

Tammy snorted. “It was hot news that you were dancing with
him last night. I’m sure he’d enjoy the company. Look, I’m not saying to sleep
with him, just to bask in feeling beautiful for a change.”

Erica pondered the idea. It would certainly take her mind
off Greg, that was for sure. “All right. I think I’m calmer now. I’ll speak to
you later.”

“Bye.”

Throwing aside her comforter, she peered down at her track
pants and shirt. Not at all sexy, but she shrugged it off. She checked the side
window that faced Dylan’s. The lights were on. She put on her slippers and
walked over to his house. Despite the darkness, she managed to make her way
over the moist grass without too much trouble. Once at the door, she knocked
and waited. After a while she knocked again. Music blasted from somewhere
inside, but no one answered the door. Maybe he wasn’t home.

Despondent, she trudged back down the steps and started back
to her house only to pause at the light in his backyard. Her hesitation lasted
for a split second before she entered through the side gate. The door clanged
shut and Bud didn’t zoom around the corner to terrorize her. Odd. She walked
deeper into the backyard and listened to the radio blare out a rock ballad.
Turning the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. Dylan sat on his back
porch, his shoulder on the frame and Bud at his feet. In his hand, he clasped a
beer, his head canted forward as though he were asleep. The only thing that
gave note to his consciousness was the slow sweep of his hand over Bud’s fur.
Next to his hip were several bottles of beer.
Empty
bottles. An uneasy
thought niggled at her. Whatever brought him out to drink alone, it wasn’t
pretty.

“Hello?” she murmured.

Dylan’s head jerked up, his bleary gaze struggled to focus
on her. “Erica?”

She stepped into the circle of light. “Yes, it’s me.”

He lurched forward, snatched for her arm and missed. He
straightened, wavered, then stiffened his shoulders. His attempt to appear in
control of his faculties was both utterly cute and saddening. What drove a
virile man such as him to get drunk alone?

“Come sit down with me,” he slurred.

Erica eased down beside him, her back against the stair
banister. She watched him, unsure what to say.

He reached behind him, pulled out a fresh beer from a pack
and held it out to her. “Have a drink with me. We’re celebrating.”

Cautiously she took the drink. “What are we celebrating?”

He clinked the bottles. “Cheers. My birthday.”

Erica’s heart just about broke at the barely concealed agony
painted across his face. “Happy birthday, Dylan.”

He nodded imperiously. “Thank you.”

It hurt her chest to watch him drown his sorrows and she was
at a loss as to how she could help.

“You know what I got today?” he asked.

“No.”

He peered at her as though he couldn’t quite remember why
she sat next to him. “I got a call from Bryce and Max. I didn’t get a call from
Becks but…” His chin wobbled and then he took a gulp of his beer. “People love
what I did. I was good at it. But I didn’t give a shit about that. I worked my
ass off to give her a better life and she couldn’t give a damn.”

Pain stabbed through her chest. Dylan was still in love with
someone named Becks. Could this be the reason he left LA?

“You know, I paid for her college tuition. All of it. And
what do I get for all my trouble?”

He stared at her as if expecting her to answer. “Um,
nothing?”

“Nothing. Why does everything have to be black and white?
Why can’t there be shades of gray?”

Erica couldn’t make sense of his words and instead chose to
make commiserating sounds.

Dylan pressed the bottle against his forehead and sighed
raggedly. “She is never going to forgive me, is she?”

Did he cheat on her just as Greg did? Ice prickled over her
skin at the thought.

“She’s the only family I have left and she wants nothing to
do with me.”

Erica registered part of what he said. “Becks is family?”

“Sister. She’s angry at me for leaving her to get more
money.”

It didn’t sound like a good enough reason to get mad at
someone. Sometimes people left towns to find a bigger, brighter future. She
rubbed his back and he groaned. He tipped toward her and she allowed him to
rest his head on her shoulder. Alcohol-infused breath wafted upward.

“You’re too good for me,” he muttered.

Erica paused in mid-motion. “Why do you think that?”

“You are so innocent. So pure and giving. I’m not any of
those things.”

“You’re giving too,” she pointed out.

He didn’t answer and Erica continued to hold him, her hand
trailing up and down his back. After a while, she grew convinced that he
might’ve passed out.

His hot breath skittered over her neck. “I dream about you,”
he mumbled. “Stay out of my dreams, all right? I’m sick of carrying around a
hard-on.”

Erica choked on shocked laughter. To know she affected him
in such a way made her heart flutter. From his ramblings, Erica started to
understand his hot-and-cold behavior.

“I know how to make women come over and over again, but I
just can’t get anyone to love me.”

I love you
, Erica wanted to say, but held it back.
She didn’t know if the random thought came from empathy or genuine emotion.
“Shh, it’s all right. Everything will work out. How about we take you to bed?”

Dylan straightened when she pushed on his shoulders. She
stood and helped him up, and struggled against his sheer weight. Leg muscles
strained to hold him upright and they trudged into the house and up to his
bedroom. He tumbled forward onto the bed, his face pressed into the mattress.
Erica moved his head so he could breathe better. “Good night, Dylan.”

“I don’t want to go to bed alone,” he pouted, then grabbed
blindly for her.

Evading him, she stepped back. “Everything will look better
tomorrow. I promise.”

Dylan flattened his palms against the mattress and struggled
to push himself up, a failed effort. “The room is spinning.”

“It’ll pass if you just close your eyes and go to sleep.”

He mumbled something, but it quickly became apparent he was
falling asleep. After a few minutes he began to snore. Erica tiptoed from the
room and switched out the lights. As she walked back to her house, she pondered
the recent revelations. Her heart hurt for all the pain he seemed to carry
around with him. Dylan was far more family orientated than he would have anyone
believe. He wanted love and acceptance and for some reason, he didn’t get it.
She sniffled, humbled by his agony. Now Greg seemed like a mere thorn in her
side rather than the spear through Dylan’s heart.

Chapter Six

Dylan’s head pounded like a damn jackhammer. His stomach
lurched and he wanted to roll over and die. Jesus, what possessed him to drink
himself into oblivion? Oh that’s right. He went all sissified. Rather than
doing the manly thing and bottle it away he wallowed in self-pity. He’d left
most of his friendships in the industry behind but for a bare few and his
decision to move accentuated his loneliness and isolation. His job in LA had
insulated him and hid the deep, dark loneliness that lay beneath the surface.
Now without exhaustion pulling him into oblivion and living within the slow
cadence of the town, he became starkly aware of it.

He rubbed at the grit in his eyes and levered himself up on
one arm. His tongue felt hairy and he grimaced. Legs swung over the edge of the
bed and he shuffled into the bathroom. Hand on the green porcelain, he made a
mental note to change the entire bathroom. The Hawaiian motif damn near hurt
his tired eyes.

He brushed his teeth, abrading the bitter taste from his
mouth and replacing it with minty freshness. A bleary, worn-out face stared
back at him from the mirror and he ran his hand over the stubble. He didn’t
have the energy nor the inclination to shave, so he switched on the shower.
Near scalding water seared his back and he welcomed it. He washed efficiently,
ignoring the ache in his balls and the urge to rub one out. Jesus, it never
ended for him. He’d dreamed about Erica again. She’d come to him and he’d taken
her to his bed. Hot, animal sex ensued and damn if he wasn’t disappointed to
wake and find his bed vacant.

With a flick of his wrist he switched off the water then
stepped out onto the cold tiles. He wiped himself down, found a pair of track
pants and pulled them on. Towel around his neck, he trudged down the stairs and
faltered the moment the smell of bacon filled his senses. His heart did a weird
double beat and he started forward. In the kitchen, Erica stood by the stove
working over a couple of frying pans.

Shock froze his feet. Was last night real? He cursed his
alcohol-saturated mind that could only recall bits and pieces. As though she
sensed his turmoil, she turned her head and beamed at him. “Good morning. Have
a good sleep?”

Dylan winced, a hand pressed to his temple. She was too God
damn perky.

The toaster popped up and Erica moved to retrieve the bread.
“Why don’t you take a seat? I made you breakfast. Greasy, fatty goodness
that’ll help you with your hangover.”

Obediently he found a seat at the breakfast bench, forearms
propped on the top. He watched her work, admiring the way the dress she wore
cinched around her waist. He never noticed how sexy a silhouette could be until
now. He liked her shape, it curved sensually and rounded in all the right
places.

She picked up a plate and scooped up the eggs, bacon and
grits. Dylan didn’t think he could stomach the food, but was willing to give it
a go for all the effort she put in. The plate slid along the surface, the egg
yolks wobbling as it stopped. He picked up the fork to dig in.

“U-u-uh, I’m not finished,” Erica warned as she returned to
the stove.

Dylan straightened and waited as she worked over something
beyond his eyesight. Finally she turned around and Dylan’s heart stopped.
Stacked pancakes topped with ice cream, maple syrup and…candles. Erica softly
sang him happy birthday, a shy smile on her face. She placed the makeshift cake
before him. “Go on, make a wish.”

Touched by the gesture, he blew out the candles. Erica
clapped. “Yay! Now you can eat.”

She returned to the other side of the kitchen to pour some
coffee. Dylan cut into a slice of bacon, topped it with eggs and toast. As he
chewed, he watched her, knowing something significant had happened. Discomfort
tightened his chest and he struggled to swallow his food. She returned with two
steaming cups and handed one to him. Gratefully, he washed his unease down. His
mouth pinched together as the sweetness flooded his mouth. He raised the cup.
“It’s sweet.”

A pink flush ran across her face. “I didn’t know how you
took it, so I settled for two.”

Must’ve been two massive scoops. Dylan kept that particular
thought to himself and flicked aside her words. “It doesn’t matter. The fact
you made me coffee and breakfast is just…sweet.”

She shrugged, her long white fingers clutching the cup to
her. “You…you remember anything about last night?”