A Wedding at the Blue Moon Cafe Page 13

  Did he still love his job? Sure, he cared about the paycheck it brought. Though lately, he worked so many long days, he hardly had time to spend it. In Marfa, time seemed a limitless commodity rather than precious and rare. After being here for only two weeks, he was different. Saw things differently. His oil spill campaign, one of his most successful, he’d held up as a source of pride. Ignored that the whole thing left kind of a sour taste, spinning the Gulf spill into something positive for the affected communities. I don’t know if I can do it anymore.

  He laid back on the bed and stared through the flap in the yurt. Man, those stars. How could he go back to a city that snuffed them out with too many streetlights and smog? Back to a grueling routine he’d been stuck in for way too long. Those stars might’ve twinkled for a billion years, but he didn’t have that long. He’d already wasted too much of his life, at least a third of it. He couldn’t afford to waste anymore.

  Chapter Eight

  Much as she hated to, Clarissa opened the Blue Moon Café on Tuesday. She had no reason not to. She couldn’t hide forever. Dylan hadn’t come back yesterday, hadn’t burst into her cottage and vowed his undying love. More likely, he’d caught his flight and was already home.

  She had no right to expect anything else. She hadn’t encouraged him to stay.

  Out of habit, she dialed the voice-mail number and grabbed a pen and paper when the autoattendant announced two messages. Hearing her mom’s angry, “Clarissa?” made her punch the delete code. Same for the second message.

  “Why can’t she leave me alone?” Bothering her at work, unbelievable. She’d send a postcard and ask her mom not to do it again.

  She puttered around the room, straightening menus, condiments, cleaning tables that were already clean. Every time the front door opened, she froze. A few customers had come and gone, fewer than usual.

  Midmorning, J. D. stepped in, shy as a schoolboy. “Morning.”

  “Hey there. You hungry?”

  “Just coffee, thanks.”

  Translation: he’d slept at Vonnie’s and she’d cooked him a breakfast to sate his hearty appetite. Only one of many, the woman had her hands full. Good for her. “Coming up.”

  She carried the mug over to set in front of the cowboy and glanced up when the door opened again and Dylan walked in.

  J. D. pried the cup from her hand. “I got it.”

  She could do nothing but stare as Dylan approached. “You’re here.”

  “Yes.” He waited beside the cash register.

  She wanted to walk over and touch him to be certain she wasn’t hallucinating but felt too shaky. “You’re not in Pittsburgh.”

  “No.” He glanced around the room. “Can we talk?” He gestured to the kitchen.

  “Okay.” She forced herself to move, push open the swinging door, and whirled to face him. “I thought you’d left.”

  A brief smile crossed his mouth, and then he frowned. “Did you want me to?”

  “No.” Fuck. She’d meant to say, I don’t know.

  “Good. Because I didn’t want to leave. But after you disappeared, I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  “So you stayed.” Holy shit, stop talking before he realizes what an idiot you are. She couldn’t stop trembling and hugged herself.

  “I had to see you again.” He gently grasped her arms and touched his lips to hers.

  Her trembling stopped. She wanted to melt into his embrace. Shuffling footsteps reminded her they weren’t alone.

  Harvey jerked his thumb toward the back door. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

  Dylan nodded in greeting. “Hey, Harvey.”

  Now she really felt like an idiot. “I’m so sorry. I freaked. I thought your flight was today, and that I’d never see you again. I couldn’t stand the thought of it, but I couldn’t bear to face you, either.”

  “I hoped you’d say that.” He kissed her again. “Come with me.”

  “To Pittsburgh? No way.” A city would stifle her.

  He brightened. “Have you ever been to the Andy Warhol Museum?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not a Warhol fan.”

  “Then the Carnegie art museum. The science center. The zoo. The Mattress Factory Museum.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  She couldn’t smile. Couldn’t think. Does he mean I should move there, or visit? She shook her head.

  “Kennywood?”

  An amusement park? Another shake, but smaller.

  “You have to come. How else will we know it’s not just Marfa getting to me? Or wedding fever?”

  “Dylan, don’t.” Was he trying to use his marketing spin on her? It wouldn’t work. She had to know what was in his heart of hearts.

  He grew serious. “I don’t want to leave you, Clarissa.”

  Her shoulders drooped. “You don’t know me.”

  “I’m trying to.” He drew her into his embrace. “Close up early.”

  For what? More sex? Much as she’d like to—no, love to—it wouldn’t solve a damn thing. “I can’t. It’s not fair to Harvey.”

  “He won’t mind.” Dylan called, “Will you, Harvey?”

  The cook opened the door and leaned in. “What?”

  “You won’t mind if the café closes for the day?”

  Harvey shrugged. “I’m good with whatever, man. Seize the day.”

  Had he heard everything? “Are you sure, Harvey?”

  He wandered around them and peered out the swinging doors. “Hey, it’s not like we’re swamped or anything. Probably costs more to stay open than to close.”

  Dylan smiled. “See? Let’s walk in the desert. Go see the Mystery Lights. Maybe I could convince the manager at El Cosmico to let us take a shower under the stars. You’ll never want to shower inside again.”

  Don’t laugh. “You’re crazy.”

  “I mean it. I’m going to ask my condo association to install some outdoor showers.”

  She allowed a smirk. “Good luck with that.”

  “Yeah, I know. Pittsburgh’s a different world.” Dylan sounded disappointed.

  She had to agree. “Cold and unfriendly.”

  Harvey wiped down the skillet. “Not unfriendly if you’re a Steelers fan.”

  “I’m not a sports fan. Period.”

  He gave a groan of agreement. “The cold part might be the deal breaker. I’d freeze my ass off in an outdoor shower ten months out of the year. Hey, I know what we should do tonight—a Star Party.”

  “What?” He sure knew how to throw her a curve.

  More enthused, he grabbed her hands. “Let’s go to Fort Davis. To the McDonald Observatory. Don’t tell me you’ve never been to one of their Star Parties.”

  She shrugged. “I haven’t.”

  “The observatory’s only a half hour away. I’ve read fantastic things about their parties.”

  “The same stars shine over me every night.” Over them both, last night. It felt like they were in heaven, wrapped up in clouds, and each other.

  “Yeah, but you have to try a Star Party at least once. Why do locals always ignore great stuff in their backyards? Come on, let’s go. So I don’t have to suffer the embarrassment of going alone.”

  “Maybe you’ll find a girl with stars in her eyes.” Like me.

  “Please?”

  She let out a long sigh, and he smiled like he knew he had her.

  She couldn’t deny it.

  ***

  Clarissa hated to admit it, but Dylan was right. The Star Party was worth the drive. Soft red lights glowed low along the outdoor viewing area they strolled through, an amazing array of stars domed above.

  Dylan pulled out his cell. “Right on time.”

  An attendant approached. “Please turn that off, sir,” the guide said. “The human eye needs fifteen minutes to readjust after exposure to white light, so we don’t allow flashlights, camera flashes, or cell phones.”

  Dylan hastily put it away. “Sorry.”

  Clarissa chuckled. “Already causing probl
ems.”

  He grabbed her hand. “Wait till later.”

  An unexpected thrill shot through her. His teasing made waiting difficult, but she said, “Okay.”

  They joined a small group clustered around a guide, and Dylan pulled her to his side.

  The guide invited them to view the stars through the telescope. “Careful, it’s addicting.”

  The stars? Or Dylan? No need to remind her. She already craved his touch. Only one other man had thought up ways to please her, invited her to try new things she might like. J. D. had been a mentor, a father figure.

  Not so with Dylan. Even as she smiled at him, nervousness curled through her. She wanted to do the same for him. Make him happy. Good lord, she had so little practice at such things.

  The two-hour program flew by. Damn, the one time she’d wanted a date to last longer, and it ended too fast.

  On the stroll back to his car, he voiced her thoughts. “Wish we could stay.”

  “Me, too. Wish they’d let us camp out overnight.”

  He pressed her against the car. “The stars in your loft are almost as nice.”

  “I agree.” Especially with him naked beside her. A good-bye fuck? It’s his last night in Marfa. She wouldn’t see him again. She nuzzled into him so he wouldn’t see the sudden fear that gripped her.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Fine. I just….” Wish you wouldn’t leave. “Wish this night wouldn’t end.”

  “Hey, let’s go see if the Mystery Lights are out.”

  “Really?” She couldn’t help the disappointment.

  “Don’t you want to?”

  “Yeah, let’s go. You haven’t seen them yet. You should see them before….” She bit her lip.

  He kissed her head. “Okay then.”

  Funny how the stars already seemed dimmer. On the drive to the viewing platform, the headlights projected a beam that looked tangible, an optical illusion in the extreme dark of western Texas. The trip, like the rest of the night, went quickly. Before she knew it, they’d arrived.

  They climbed onto the platform. In the distance, with the Chinati Mountains as a backdrop, the Mystery Lights bobbed and floated in their mystical dance.

  His smile looked triumphant. “Finally, I get to see them.” He settled his elbows on the rail beside hers. “But they kind of look like flashlights to me. Sure there’s not someone out there?”

  “Maybe the Apache spirits?” she teased.

  “I have to admit, they’re pretty cool.”

  “Relaxing.”

  “And mysterious.” He bumped shoulders with her.

  “I come out here whenever I need to clear my head.”

  “You’re lucky. To have something like this so close.”

  She did feel lucky tonight. The evening had been a lovely surprise. And fun. And he’s not groping me.

  He’s flying home tomorrow. “Dylan.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Everything. Nothing, except her world had turned upside down, and she could dance on those stars. All she knew was, she wanted to make the most of his last night in Texas.

  She grabbed his hand and led him as far as she dared onto Mitchell Flat.

  He slowed his pace. “Do you think it’s a good idea to come out here? What if we disturb the Apache spirits?”

  She whirled and kissed him, the kind he wouldn’t easily forget. The kind that might just stir those spirits into a frenzy.

  “Dumb question,” he said against her mouth. “Fuck the spirits.”

  “No. I want you. Right now.”

  He snapped out of the haze. “Clarissa.”

  She silenced him with another kiss, unleashing her full passion. No speeches about how this might not be a good idea. No excuses about anything. When she lowered to the ground, he kept his lips locked on hers. His hands worked as fast as hers, unzipping zippers, pushing away jeans. She didn’t need foreplay; the whole night had been a buildup to this. She wouldn’t wait another second.

  She stroked his erection, already hard, and raised her hips, teasing the head of his cock with her wetness. A soft groan, and he pushed inside. His hand at the small of her back steadied her, the stars and Mystery Lights swirling together, their mix dizzying but perfectly in rhythm, like her and Dylan.

  He murmured, “So good. Clarissa. Ahh.”

  She willed him to stop. Not to talk, not to say anything he’d wish later he hadn’t. Not to make any promises they both knew wouldn’t happen. When willing didn’t work, she kissed the words away. Rocked harder. Faster. He kept pace, their breaths in panting unison until the last thrust, when he held his breath, and stayed deep. She clung to him then, to the moment.

  Like the rest of the night, over too soon. Inevitable. Just like the predictable end to their little story.

  He rolled to the side and held her closer. “If I believed in magic, this place would definitely top the list.”

  “It is magical.” Stupid to come out here with him. It would be a long time before she’d be able to return. Every time she looked out at the Mystery Lights, she’d see Dylan.

  “Hey, you know—”

  “Don’t.” God, too harsh. More softly, she said, “Please don’t.”

  “I was just going to say—”

  “No. Please, Dylan. Don’t say anything. Not even good-bye.”

  He stroked her cheek. “This isn’t good-bye.”

  She hardened herself against the emotion welling up. “Right. And those lights are really UFOs.” She hated the silence that followed. Moments passed. A freaking eternity. Of course, because the bad parts of life always stretched on.

  He shifted away. “Guess I should drive you home.”

  No smartass remark? No testing her to see if she’d give in? He’d taken it to heart. Yeah, that was fast. “Yes, I have to get up early.”

  Yep, because life went on, shitty parts and all.

  ***

  Dylan packed up—if throwing two pairs of jeans, three shirts, and shoes into his bag counted as packing—and tossed his bag into the backseat. Instead of heading to the airport, he steered toward Marfa.

  He parked far enough away so Clarissa wouldn’t see him. He wanted to surprise her.

  J. D. stepped out of the café and froze at the sight of him.

  Shit. Showdown time. Dylan felt a little silly on the approach but kept going.

  J. D. cleared the café’s front windows and stopped. “You’re supposed to be gone.”

  “Change of plans.”

  The cowboy glared from beneath his Stetson. “Clarissa’s upset enough.”

  “I have no intention of hurting her.”

  “What are your intentions?”

  Dylan took off his sunglasses and stared the man down. “Clarissa and I will figure that out.”

  Assessing him, J. D. grunted.

  What the hell did it mean? Had Dylan passed some test or something? Was the conversation over? “So I’ll see you around. Probably.” Hopefully not.

  J. D.’s eyes narrowed even more, but he nodded and strode off.

  Watch Westerns much? Dylan shook off the weirdness and kept going.

  Inside the Blue Moon Café, Clarissa leaned over the counter but jerked straight up when he walked in. “You’re here.”

  He hesitated beside the door. “Yes.”

  “But you’re supposed to be at the airport.”

  He walked toward her. “I couldn’t go. Not until I know for sure that you want me to leave. Because I don’t think you do.”

  She shifted her hips and shook her head. “Frat Boy…”

  He wagged his finger. “Uh uh uh. You can’t fool me with that routine.”

  The café phone rang. She went to answer it. “Blue Moon Café.” A pause. “God, why do you keep—” Clarissa went rigid. “What? When? Oh God.”

  Alarm froze him. Helpless, all he could do was watch while she gripped the receiver with both hands, trying to take in whatever bad news the caller was delivering. He moved closer, ready
to catch her in his arms.

  Her eyes grew glassy with tears. “I’ll get there as soon as I can. I said I will.” She hung up.

  “What’s wrong?” He lightly rubbed her back.

  She threw herself into his embrace. “My dad’s in the hospital. I have to go home. God, Princeton. I hate the fucking place.”

  He stroked her hair. “I’ll book us the earliest flight.”

  “Clothes. I need to pack.” She disappeared through the kitchen’s swinging doors.

  Harvey came through on the next swing. “Hey, what’s wrong with Clarissa?”

  “Her dad’s in the hospital. She has to go home for a while. Do you want me to do anything before we go?”

  “Poor girl. No, guess I’ll have to close up the café. You’re going with her?”

  Dylan locked the café’s front door, flipped the sign to Closed. “Yeah, I’d never let her go alone.”

  “Good man. You two have a safe trip. Let me know, will you?”

  “Thanks, we will.” Dylan whipped out his cell. It took a few minutes to find the quickest trips, but he arranged for two tickets, then called Jeff to give him a heads-up, see what else they might need done. At least she hadn’t argued when he’d said “us,” but maybe it hadn’t registered yet.

  By the time she returned with a bulging messenger bag, he’d booked two seats on the nine fifteen flight to Philly, and reserved a car to drive the rest of the way to Princeton.

  Without a word, he took the bag from her and carried it to his car.

  She opened the passenger door but halted. “Oh God, Amy and Jeff.”

  “Sorry, I meant to tell you I called Jeff and let him know. He and Amy said they’re very sorry, and they sent good wishes for your dad.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” She climbed in.

  He reset the GPS. “The El Paso airport had the earlier flight, so I went with that.”

  “I’ll repay you as soon as I get back.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m not. I’ll need your account number so I can transfer the funds.”