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Just then, we heard the sound of tires on the driveway. I went outside to see who had arrived so early. It was Mike, in his big pickup truck. I couldn’t help myself; I jogged down the porch steps and flew into his arms as soon as he opened the door. He laughed and caught me up, planting a kiss firmly on my lips. Whatever was between us made it hard to be apart. My soul yearned for him, and the three days I had spent without him had been agony. I didn’t care if he knew that I was head over heels. He would never hurt me; I had earned the right to be vulnerable, and I was going to follow my heart.
I pulled out of the embrace, licking my lips. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you too,” he said. “I brought some beer and chips.”
“Great.” I held out my hands, offering to take them.
He gave me two bags of chips but kept the beer for himself. Typical man, carrying the heavier stuff. Dillon was already at the grill, cleaning it off and getting it prepped. I led Mike up the slope of the driveway to the side of the house.
“Dillon?” I interrupted.
Dillon turned, setting down his grilling implements.
“This is Mike. Mike, this is Dillon.”
The two men shook hands.
“I brought some beer,” Mike said, holding up the twelve-pack.
“We appreciate it.” Dillon pointed to the cooler.
“I’ll get it.” I grabbed the cardboard beer box from Mike without giving him time to resist. In two hands, I carried it over to the cooler, opened the top, and began fitting individual cans in among the ice. Behind me, I could hear Dillon and Mike getting warmed up.
“Mike…?” Dillon asked.
“Newbury,” Mike supplied.
“Sounds familiar,” Dillon mused.
“My parents own the lumberyard. The only one in town.”
“Oh yeah, that’s it.” Dillon nodded. “I’ve been there.”
“Yeah, I think I’ve seen you.” Mike smiled. “So, you lived here long?”
“Almost ten years.” Dillon went back to scraping the grill.
“I love how isolated it is up here,” Mike said.
I grabbed two beers out of the cooler and walked them back to my guys. Each one accepted the offer with a smile of thanks.
Dillon set the tool down again and popped the tab. “Yeah, you know when I first moved up here, all I wanted to do was get away. I had a bad experience in Nashville. My partner was killed.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mike empathized.
I felt my jaw drop. I had never heard Dillon say so many words at one time, and something of so much emotional weight at the same time. I had no idea that his partner had been killed or that he’d moved to the cabin to get away from the world. In my mind, he was Macy’s husband, a solid, if quiet, man who worked on the computer and took care of the kids. I didn’t realize he had a whole other side to him. After just five minutes, he and Mike were talking like old friends.
Daisy and Nicky came bounding out of the house to find their dad. They stopped short when faced with a strange man. Mike turned and smiled, crouching so he could be at their eye level.
“This is Mike,” Dillon said.
“Hi,” Nicky said shyly.
“This is Nicky and Daisy,” Dillon introduced his children.
“I thought Mary Ellen was here,” Daisy said apologetically.
“They’re coming,” I promised.
