Only in My Dreams (26 page)

Kyle grinned a wide gleaming smile. Along with his lingering tan and beach-blond hair, he looked like he'd stepped out of a surfboard ad. “Hey there, George.”

George stepped out from behind the bar and hugged Kyle. “ 'Bout time you came home for something other than a funeral.”

“Ouch.” Kyle smiled at the bartender and clapped him on the back. “Good to see you too. Why haven't you poured my Crossbow yet? You getting slow in your old age?”

“You wish.” George went back behind the bar and drew Kyle's beer. “I can still kick your butt arm wrestling.”

“Yes, you can. I'll shut up now.” Kyle looked at Dylan. “Hey, Westcott. What brings you here? Hot date?” He looked around for Dylan's nonexistent companion.

Dylan kept a smile from teasing his lips up. “Meeting Cameron for dinner. Why don't you join us?”

“If you don't mind.” Kyle picked up his Crossbow from the bar. “George, pour my friend here a drink.” Kyle looked at Dylan. “What's your poison?”

As Sara had ascertained, Dylan didn't have a favorite, so he chose what sounded good tonight. “Longbow.”

George drew the beer and was just sliding it across the bar when the door opened. Both Dylan and Kyle turned as Cameron entered with Hayden Archer on his heels. Damn, dinner was about to get awkward, given the Kyle situation Sara had told him about.

“Yo, bro,” Cameron said, wearing a casually stylish outfit that was pretty much on par with what he'd worn to clean Dad's gutters.

“Kyle!” Cameron slapped him on the shoulder. “Long time. You look good. Ridiculous, in fact. Florida is clearly the place to be. Dylan, hope you don't mind that I brought Hayden along.”

Kyle glanced at his brother and tension seemed to crackle in the air.

Hayden nodded at Dylan and said, “Hey, Dylan.”

“You boys are taking up a bunch of space,” George said loudly. “Go get a table.”

Cameron turned and led the group toward a booth situated beneath the medieval mural. “Kyle, you're joining us?” he asked as he slid into the booth and saw that Kyle had followed.

“If you don't mind,” Kyle said again.

Dylan sat across from his brother. “I invited him.”

“Cool,” Cameron said as Hayden sat beside him.

Chloe approached the table. “Hi, guys.”

Hayden smiled at her. “Oh, hey, Chloe.”

She returned the smile. “Hi, Hayden. Kyle, it's good to see you,” she added, though she sounded hesitant and Dylan wondered if she
really
thought it was good to see him. That morning over breakfast, Sara had continued the Kyle saga, explaining that he and Derek had once been best friends and that their relationship had imploded when he'd gone to Florida.

“Good to be seen. Thanks, Chloe.” If Kyle had picked up on her nuanced speech, he didn't reflect it.

She glanced around the table, taking in the state of their drinks “Can I get some more beer for you guys? A pitcher maybe?”

“Or two,” Cameron suggested. He glanced at what Dylan and Kyle were drinking and said, “A Longbow and a Crossbow.”

“Will do. Let me know if you want some food.” Chloe smiled and went to fill their order.

“Nachos.” Kyle got a dreamy expression on his face. “With Tillamook cheese and sour cream. I've missed Oregon.”

“You didn't have to stay away for so long if you missed it that much.” Hayden's comment carried bite, but there was a hint of brotherly ribbing in his gaze, too.

Kyle didn't respond. He took a drink of beer instead.

“You here to stay?” Cameron asked Kyle.

Kyle shrugged.

“Hold on,” Hayden said, his eyes narrowing. “Mom thinks you're here permanently, so you fucking better be.”

Kyle held up his hands as if he'd been caught unarmed in a gunfight. “Yes, I'm here to stay. I'm here to help with the hotel project. I'm here to reclaim my Archer status.”

Cameron laughed. “Your ‘Archer status.' Like it ever goes away. Wealth, fame, ridiculous good looks. You're stuck with all that shit, even in Florida, I imagine.”

“Fame?” Kyle rolled his eyes. “Like anyone remembers that show.”

“I wish,” Hayden said wearily. “A couple of weeks ago some woman came up to me at Home Depot in Newberg. Asked if I was one of ‘those sextuplets.' When I politely explained that no, I wasn't, she was insistent that she'd seen me on TV. I finally had to admit that I was the “oops kid,” so yes, I'd been on the show, but I wasn't one of the
actual
sextuplets. She wasn't nearly as impressed as she had been.”

Cameron laughed. “Poor Hayden. Never quite fitting in. Sucks to be you.
Not
.”

Chloe returned with their pitchers of beer and two more pint glasses. They ordered nachos and burgers.

Hayden elbowed Cameron after Chloe left. “Sometimes it does suck to be me. We can't all be traveling salesmen with girls in every town.”

Cameron snorted. “Right, that's me. American Gigolo. But hey, I am
not
a traveling salesman. I sell wine—great wine—and when I travel, I host upscale dinners paired with our wines.”

“Sounds like a traveling salesman gigolo to me,” Kyle said.

Hayden pointed at his brother and nodded. “Bingo!”

“Hey, I got your back.” Kyle poured beer for everyone.

“So my brother is clearly a cheesy manwhore,” Dylan said, casting his brother a mock disapproving glance. “What about you, Kyle? You certainly look like eye candy for a bunch of Florida socialites.”

Cameron nodded. “Oh, totally.” He leaned across the table and speared Kyle with a faux serious stare. “How much time do you spend on a boat?”

Kyle smiled like the cat that ate the canary. “Plenty.”

“And since you don't actually own a boat, I'm guessing it belongs to a lady friend, perhaps? Is it safe to call you The Beach Bachelor?”

Hayden busted up laughing and Dylan joined him.

“I can just see you on the beach with your table of roses like that TV show, trying to choose whose boat you're going to take out for the day. Those poor women think you're going to romance them, but you really only care about their horsepower.” Cameron roared with laughter.

Kyle looked around at each of them, shaking his head, then laughed with them.

Finally, Hayden said, “So we have a manwhore, a beach bachelor, what's Dylan?”

“The damaged divorcee,” Cameron said. “He's a project for some woman to fix. After his marriage didn't work out, he needs comfort and solace. Though he seems to prefer drive-bys, if you get me.” He waggled his eyebrows to impart his lewd meaning.

“You aren't telling us anything we don't already know,” Hayden said. “His reputation as a player is common knowledge.”

Ouch. Did Sara know that? She must if it was that well known. And she'd negotiated friends with benefits anyway. Any lingering concern he had regarding the arrangement faded completely. She'd gone into this with her eyes wide open. He couldn't have asked for a better setup.

Cameron nodded. “I taught him everything he knows.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Dream on.”

“So, gigolo, beach bachelor, and the damaged divorcee,” Cameron summarized. “That leaves Hayden. Clearly he's the One-Hit Wonder.”

Dylan looked at Hayden who'd dropped his head and was lightly shaking it from side to side. “I don't get it.”

Cameron lifted his beer. “Hayden hasn't had a real girlfriend since Bex.”

Hayden threw Cameron a dark stare. “Shut it.”

“Is that true?” Kyle asked. “Not one girlfriend?”

“Asked the Beach Bachelor,” Hayden said wryly. “I date. I'm not a manwhore. Or a player.” He glanced at Cameron and shot a look at Dylan then settled his gaze back on Kyle. “Or a bartending Lothario.”

Cameron set his beer down. “Hey, there's no proof of my prostitution. Or manwhore-ness. Just your lurid imaginations. You, on the other hand, have left a trail of broken hearts—or at least disappointed ladies—all over the Willamette Valley.”

“Because you're still stuck on Bex?” Kyle leaned forward, his mouth slightly open with surprise.

Dylan didn't hear the answer to that question because his attention was drawn to the door opening and Sara walking in. His body thrummed with her presence and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to get up and go over to her. Thankfully, Kyle was blocking his way out of the booth.

As if she too possessed radar that signaled they were in the other's presence, her eyes locked with his. Faint color rose in her cheeks. Then her gaze moved right and connected with Kyle. The smile that had curved her lips faded.

Dylan felt Kyle tense. “Sara's here,” Kyle said to no one in particular.

Hayden turned his head and looked over the top of the booth. He raised his hand up. “Sara!”

She came toward the table, her gait slow and her posture guarded. She ran her fingers along the strap of her purse, which was slung over her shoulder. “Boys' night out?”

“Sort of,” Hayden said. “I crashed Cameron and Dylan's brotherly dinner.”

“I guess I did the same.” Kyle sounded as reticent as Sara looked. Clearly they hadn't made up since last night. Dylan wondered how things had gone with her mom.

“Well, I won't intrude. I just came in to pick up some dinner for me and Mom. Neither one of us felt like cooking.” Her gaze drifted to Kyle but didn't linger.

“Tell her I said hi,” Hayden said, refilling his glass.

“Will do.” She looked around the table. “You look like trouble. Behave.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle when they landed on Dylan.

He felt a surge of desire so strong, he put his hands on his lap and curled his fingers into the tops of his jeans. He drank her in—from the blonde hair knotted atop her head in a thoroughly haphazard but terribly sexy style to the slouchy sweatshirt over a pair of dark gray leggings to the pink, of course, Converse on her feet. She was dressed for a night in of movies and ice cream, but he'd never seen anyone more alluring. The things he could do with that ice cream . . .

Hayden toasted her with his glass. “See ya, sis.”

She nodded, then turned and went to the bar where George greeted her with a smile. The conversation at their table started up again, thankfully about who was going to make the NBA championships instead of their sex lives. But Dylan was only half listening. He was aware of Sara's every move, and when she finally took her to-go order and left, he set his head back against the back of the booth and contemplated how he could see her later.

A minute later his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the text.

S
ARA
: Come up with a reason to excuse yourself for a few minutes and meet me downstairs. Go back past the restrooms and take the last door on the right
.

The lust he'd felt earlier doubled back on him with hot urgency. He managed to say, “Pardon me for a few minutes, guys, I need to call one of my crew.” He looked at Kyle expectantly.

Kyle slid out from the booth. “Everything cool?”

“Yeah, fine, just following up on some details.”

“On a Saturday night?” Cameron asked. He tossed Hayden a mock glare. “I hope you're paying my brother enough.”

Hayden chuckled. “Plenty. And he's worth it.”

Normally, Dylan would've warmed to such a compliment. He took great pride in his work and in delivering the best. But right now he couldn't think past the invitation on his phone and the gorgeous blonde waiting for him downstairs. Hell, he hadn't even known this place had a downstairs.

He turned and went toward the back before he could sport wood in the middle of the damn restaurant. He passed Chloe as he entered the rear hallway. She carried a tray of food but inclined her head. “Restroom's just there.”

He didn't bother correcting her as to his destination. “Thanks.”

“Your burgers will be up in a minute.”

He nodded and watched her go into the dining area. When the coast was clear, he moved quickly to the end of the hall, past the restrooms on the left and the kitchen on the right, and ducked into the door Sara had texted him about.

He stepped onto a small landing lit from a faint light source at the bottom of the stairs. He made his way down, careful to keep his tread light. What if someone else were down here?

At the base of the stairs, he saw the basement was basically a large storeroom filled with brewing supplies. The brewing portion of the pub was in an attached building at the back, but they clearly kept everything they needed here.

A hand on his elbow surprised him. He turned around and was sure his jaw was about to hit the floor. Sara was standing before him in nothing but a pink lacy bra and panties.

“Jesus, Sara,” his voice nearly cracked with want while his cock surged against his suddenly too-tight jeans.

She reached for his waistband and neatly flicked the button open. She slipped her hands inside his jeans and drew him forward. “I thought there was a cot down here but there's only extra chairs. Oh, and couple of small tables. Extra stuff from the dining room.”

“I don't need any furniture.” He cradled the base of her head between his hands and dragged his thumbs along her jawline. Her eyes were so blue, her lips so damn pink and sweet. He'd had a beer and a half, but he suddenly felt drunk. He sank his mouth into hers, his tongue piercing into her with crazy need.

Her fingers dug into his hips as she pulled him tight against her. He felt her heat through his jeans and then her hand came forward and stroked the ridge of his cock through his boxer briefs. He groaned into her mouth and angled his head, deepening the kiss.

Her hand moved up and down along his shaft, teasing his already fevered body into a frantic state. He steered her backward until she hit the wall that supported the stairs. If anyone came down, they wouldn't be in plain sight—at least not immediately.