“Yet it’s not your dream?”
“I can’t dream anymore, Corey.”
The silence between them was telling and Dillon asked a clipped, “What?”
“You have to let go of the guilt. You’ll never be happy again if you don’t. For the millionth time, you had no control over Toby’s leukemia.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Thoughts of Dillon’s four-and-a-half-year-old son who’d died were so bittersweet he usually closed the door on them.
“All right. So let’s talk about what you’re going to do when your stint for Marshall is up. Are you going to accept that concierge practice in Odessa?”
The doctor who had offered Dillon the position had put a sweet deal on the table. “I don’t know. Taking care of the guests at the resort is a somewhat similar experience. I’m going to see how I like it before I make up my mind.”
“Good idea. The truth is I don’t know if I can see you being at the beck and call of patients because they’re paying you well for the opportunity to have you as their doctor. It doesn’t sound like you.”
“I never thought I’d be here at the resort, taking over for Marshall, either.”
Corey waited a beat before asking, “So you just ran into this receptionist again?”
“Not exactly. Erika’s my receptionist now.”
“Ah-hah! The plot thickens. Just how did she come to be your receptionist?”
“Grant assigned her. I’m not taking up all her time. It’s pretty slow for her most days, but she’s the one planning Frontier Days. She’s working right outside my office all day, so we interact.”
“I see. And tonight you decided to interact on a personal rather than business level?”
His brother’s words brought back the image of him holding Erika in his arms, his hand under her hair, his other hand clasping hers. At first, as they’d danced, she’d been close enough to arouse him. But then she’d needed some space. He got that. They didn’t know each other very well. But leaving as she had—
“Ask her,” Corey suggested.
“Ask her what?”
“Ask her why she left. That’s what you want to know, right? Maybe she’s one of those rare women who will actually tell you the truth.”
His silence was answer enough for Corey.
His brother offered, “Yeah, the Texas Traubs inherited as much pride as oil money. You know what Mom’s always preached—pride comes before the fall. I think that means if you don’t give up the pride, you’re going to trip over something.”
Purposely changing the subject again, Dillon asked, “Did you attend the family dinner on Sunday?”
“Oh, yeah. Peter was in great form, filling us all in verbatim on the latest board meeting.”
“After all these years, we should realize Peter’s not going to change,” Dillon reminded his brother.
When their mother had married Peter Wexler, Dillon hadn’t known what to think. At fourteen, he was still grieving for his dad and couldn’t imagine another man moving into his father’s place. His mother had told them she needed help with six kids and running a business. Peter knew the business from the ground up and she’d teach him what he didn’t know.
Dillon had heard the gossip at school as she’d dated Peter, then married him. The grapevine had debated over whether or not he was a gold digger. People assumed the oil-rig foreman would take Claudia Traub’s money and leave her high and dry … but first he’d share the good life with her. Since Dillon hadn’t been about to accept anyone sitting in his father’s chair at the table, he’d rebelled big-time. He’d stayed away from Peter as much as he could, making sure he participated in after-school sports, studied someplace other than home and spent summers with his cousins in Montana. He’d told himself constantly he only had to live through four years because then he’d be in college and on his own. He and Peter had settled into a kind of truce, but they’d never become close, never become son and father.
Away from all of it now, Dillon finally answered Corey’s question.
“We all have our own lives now. He’s always seemed to make Mom happy and that’s what’s important, right?” Dillon asked, still trying to convince himself.
“I guess,” Corey agreed. After a pensive pause, he asked, “So what are you going to do about Erika?”
“Maybe I’ll just do what you said and ask her why she left.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I’ll talk to you soon,” Dillon said.
Dillon attached his phone to his belt and strode to his sedan. Did he really want to find out why Erika had left? Why even bother when by the end of September, he’d be gone?
Early the next morning, Erika exited the women’s locker room at the resort’s gym dressed in her tank top, shorts and sneakers. She was a little out of sorts. For some reason, today it had been difficult to drop off Emilia at the neighborhood day care—her little girl hadn’t wanted her to leave. Plus, her dinner with Dillon last night had stirred up pre–Scott Spencerman dreams—dreams of vows, shared goals and most of all children who brought such joy to everyday life. Yet Dillon had squashed them with his lack of enthusiasm for children … the dark emotion in his eyes when she’d mentioned his cousin’s kids.
Erika stopped short when she spied the object of her thoughts. Last night, Dillon had told her he liked to go horseback riding. But the weather was damp and rainy today, so he must have opted for the workout room instead. She wished she could just walk by him and forget last night had ever happened. But essentially, he was her boss and she couldn’t.
He had spotted her, too.
He’d finished with one of the weight stations. Grabbing a towel from a nearby bench, he slung it around his neck.
She swallowed hard. His broad shoulders and slim waist told her he’d always been an athlete. He was wearing a gray T-shirt with the sleeves cut off and navy gym shorts that didn’t hide his powerful thigh muscles. There was a dark patch of sweat on his chest and under his arms. His body glistened from his workout, but he didn’t seem self-conscious about it, though he wasn’t smiling now as they both took a few steps toward each other.
“I didn’t expect to see you here this morning,” he commented.
“I come in a few times each week.”
“I thought I’d save my favorite horse a wet, muddy ride.”
She might as well jump into it. “I’m sorry I didn’t pay my half of the bill last night. If you’d like—”
“Don’t be silly. I asked you to dinner, remember?”
Oh, she remembered. Glancing at his body again, feeling heat creep through hers, she recalled exactly why she’d accepted his invitation.
“Did I say something to make you run off?”
He was direct, that was for sure, and she liked that about him. She liked too many things. “It wasn’t you, Dillon. Really.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
When she didn’t say more, he took another step closer, and now they were within touching distance. “You have circles under your eyes.” He gently touched one of them with his thumb.
Erika trembled and she hoped he couldn’t feel it. She’d never felt this kind of chemistry before. Taking a shaky breath, she decided just to