Redwood Bend (Virgin River #18)(24)

“Not quite yet,” she answered with a shrug of one shoulder. “But that’s because I haven’t looked around too much yet. No matter what, I’ll make sure the boys are close to Conner so they can spend time together. Why wouldn’t I do that for them? They need stability. They need family. Most of all, they need a strong masculine influence.”

“Well, then,” Dylan said, wiping off his mouth and putting down his napkin. “Why don’t we look around? See if there’s anything around here you like.”

And they jumped on the bike, heading south first.

She hung on around his waist and thought, It’s so funny that he thinks he’s anonymous. Maybe to her brother or to Jack Sheridan he would be, but to a girl who was in love with him from eight to twelve years old? Hah! Could he really be oblivious to the number of eight-year-old girls who’d loved him with their entire hearts? And grieved for him when he dropped out of sight? Well, at least until Jason Priestley and the Backstreet Boys came along.

Of course, when she was eight, nine, ten years old, she believed that Dylan lived in that family she watched on TV every week. If not specifically that family, then one very much like it. The show was called Rough Housing and it was a comedy about a dad who went to work every morning with a lunch pail, a mom who cooked and cleaned and tore her hair out because she had three sons who were constantly in some crisis that could be completely resolved in thirty minutes. They were that classic middle-America family who stayed in love and positive and devoted and wise despite their struggle with the bills, the work pressures, the challenges of family life. Dylan played the handsome middle child and was clearly the most popular of all. His additional movies that had nothing to do with Rough Housing were also successful and his popularity soared; the other boys in the series didn’t score big movies.

Over time, as she got a little older and threw him over for other teenage stars, she recognized that he was not a good boy, that all the gossip must be true. He came from a world she didn’t understand, a Hollywood family that bore no resemblance to hers.

She wasn’t going to tell him she knew. Or maybe she would when they said goodbye in a couple of days, if they actually said goodbye, just to see the look on his face. But was he used to this? she wondered. Women who’d had girlhood crushes on him gasping with awe and star worship when they recognized him? Because Katie had been that way at twelve, but not now. Hell, at thirteen she might’ve thrown her panties at him, but now she had some class. Or stubbornness. Or just plain old experience.

But there was no denying his sex appeal. Within ten miles of their twisty-turny travels she was leaning with him and the bike and loved the tight curves, scary tilting and high speed.

He took them through a small Victorian town, around a road that seemed to go into the hills but popped out on top of a small mountain high above the ocean and she squealed with delight. The descent was exciting, exhilarating. Then along the oceanfront, through a couple of towns that hardly qualified as towns. He braked for crossing deer, slowed to pass what appeared to be a bull ranch, through a dark, dense, overpowering redwood grove, into a vineyard. She was pretty sure they were trespassing in the vineyard, but she didn’t care. In fact, that made it more thrilling.

She had no idea how long they’d been riding when he took them along a winding road that went up into the trees. It felt like the spiral ascent inside a parking garage and her ears popped. When they finally broke through, they were on top of the world and in front of her the ocean spread out again. This was where he stopped the bike, turned it off and raised it onto the stand using his long, strong legs. She got off and removed her helmet and he did the same. Then he flopped down on the soft grass, flat on his back. He moaned.

“Are we quitting?” she asked.

He lifted his head. “We’re taking a break.”

“Why?”

“We’ve been riding for two hours! It’s time for a break!”

She sat down beside him, circling her raised knees with her arms. “Do you tire easily, Dylan?”

“I was driving,” he said. “You were riding.”

“Can I drive?”

“No.” He raised up, bracing on his elbows. “Did you talk to your brother last night?”

“I did.”

“Did he ask you if we were dating?”

“He did.”

“And what did you say?”

She reclined on her side, holding her head up by bracing on one elbow. “I could have just said no, but I said he should mind his own goddamn business. I have to keep an eye on Conner. When he steps up to help me or be there for the boys, it warms my heart, it really does. Getting in my personal life, that annoys me.”

“Has he been doing that for a long time?” Dylan asked.

She made a face. “When I was six, he walked me to school. I wanted my mother to walk me and he could have raced off with his friends, but the truth is—Conner took me on at an early age. Which is sweet, don’t get me wrong. And I love him. But I want to pick my own boyfriends.”

Dylan grinned. “Am I your boyfriend?”

“Oh, please!” She laughed at him. “A kiss just to show off and a trip to McDonald’s and a promise to be gone in a couple of days? I can do way better than you.”

He sat up. “Wait a minute. I took you to breakfast and on a fantastic bike ride!”