Wedding at Wildwood. Lenora Worth

patch. Well, the wildflowers were the same. But she wasn’t.

      She looked away, out over the flowing water. “I don’t remember me being so attractive, either. I was all legs and teeth.”

      “Not anymore,” he said as he lifted up on his elbows. “I mean, you’ve still got legs, that’s for sure, and when you smile—well, you have a pretty smile.”

      “Thank you, I think,” she replied, her words lifting out over the breeze. “I guess the braces paid off after all.” She took a long breath to retain some of her dignity. If she looked at him again—

      “I like your lips, too.”

      That did it. “Dillon,” she said, jumping up to move away, “are you deliberately flirting with me?”

      He rolled over on his stomach, a lazy grin stretching across his swarthy face. “Well, of course. And if you come back over here, I intend to kiss you again.”

      She moved farther away. “No. We can’t do this, Dillon.”

      “Why not?”

      “You know why not.”

      He sat up then, brushing his hands together to scatter the pine needles he’d collected. “No, I honestly don’t know why not. We’re adults now, Issy. And no one can tell us what we can and can’t do.”

      Isabel walked to the water’s edge, then looked down at the sparkling stream where a school of tiny minnows danced in perfect symmetry. “But…we’re still us, Dillon. I’m still the poor farm girl, and you’re still the rich second son.”

      He came up in one fluid movement, then pulled her around to face him. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t still feel that way.”

      She looked up at him, wanting to touch him. But she didn’t. “I do. Because it will never change. I wasn’t ever good enough for you. And I never will be good enough for you.”

      Dillon’s expression changed from perplexed to resolved. “I’m sorry, Issy. I never realized you wanted to be good enough for me. You see, I always thought it was the other way around.”

      “What do you mean?”

      He came closer then, his eyes boring into her. “I always figured you didn’t think I was worth your trouble. I never thought I was worthy of anybody’s consideration around here.”

      Touched by his admission, Isabel reached a hand up to his face. “You never bothered to find out about me, Dillon. You never took the time to consider me.”

      Dillon stared down at her, seeing the hurt mixed with pride in her misty green eyes. If she only knew….

      He placed his hand over hers, then brought their joined hands down between them. “Is that why you’re fighting me now? You think I’m just playing with you, the same way I played with you when we were kids?”

      “Well, aren’t you?”

      Dillon dropped her hand, then turned to stalk a few feet away, the honesty of touching her too much to bear just yet. Playing it cool, he chuckled. “Yeah, maybe I am, at that. Maybe I’m just bored and restless and, maybe I don’t really want to be here.” Shrugging, he said over his shoulder, “Yep, you sure got me all figured out.”

      Hearing the resentment, the anger, in his words only made her more determined to keep things clear between them. “I’m just being honest, Dillon. I didn’t want to come back here, either. But I promised Grammy and Susan.”

      “That was noble of you.”

      Stomping over to him, her hands jammed into the deep pockets of her shorts, she said, “Look, I’m here for the same reasons you are. We’re both here out of a sense of duty and obligation.”

      “Speak for yourself. As for me, I just wanted to come home—just for a little while.”

      Something, maybe that slight inflection in his voice that made him seem so vulnerable and lonely, brought her head up and made her want to understand him. “Because your mother asked you to, right?”

      “Right. But, hey, everybody knows Dillon Murdock doesn’t have a sense of obligation or honor. And I certainly don’t know what duty means, now do I? I’m just bad ol’ Dillon, enticing a pretty girl to the woods like the big bad wolf.”

      She’d wounded him. Somehow, she’d cracked that uncaring, cynical veneer. And what she saw there in the shimmering depths of his eyes tore her heart apart. “Dillon?”

      He looked up just in time to see the sorrow in her eyes. “Don’t, Isabel. Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t want your pity.”

      “Dillon.”

      He lifted a hand to stop her from coming to him. “No, you’re right, Isabel. This is a bad idea—you and me. You’re right to have doubts about me.” With that, he shrugged again, then gave her a bitter smile. “I guess I was just lonesome. I guess I just thought we could talk.”

      Completely confused, she said, “Then why did you tell me you wanted to kiss me again?”

      “Just flirting,” he said, his face blank, his tone indifferent. “Won’t happen again.”

      “Okay,” she said as she hurried to catch up with him. Behind them, the sun was snuggling up against the tree line. Another beautiful summer sunset. Isabel wished she had her camera. She also wished Dillon didn’t walk so fast. “Listen, if you want to talk, that’s fine—”