The Firefly Cafe (3 page)

Dylan blinked. “Wait. She’s married?”

“Divorced.” Matthew crossed his arms over his thin chest belligerently. “You’re pretty
slow.”

“Hey! Give me a break. You’re what, sixteen? Penny looks—well, she can’t be old enough
to have a teenaged son.”

Those eyes he’d inherited from Penny became narrow and suspicious. “I meant you were
slow because it’s taken you seven hours to get to the leaky sink.”

Ah. Awkward. Dylan kept his expression serious with an effort. “I take pride in my
work.”

Raising his brows, Matthew said, “Oh, man. You are totally perving on my mom.”

“What? No, I’m not,” Dylan denied, feeling his cheeks heat even though he didn’t know
what he had to be embarrassed about.

Clearly unconvinced, Matt made a grossed-out face. “Yeah, you are. You called her
Penny, you noticed how she looked, asked if she’s single. I’m not an idiot.”

“Look, kid.” Dylan raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry if it freaks you out, but
your mom is an adult. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t need you to protect her honor.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway.” Matt jerked his chin in the direction of the door. “Since
you’re leaving.”

“What?”

“You can go now. I’ll take it from here.”

Dylan raised his brows. “Yeah? Your mom didn’t say anything about that to me. I wouldn’t
want to leave the job half-finished.”

“Not even half,” Matthew sneered. “But Mom isn’t here.”

It sounded like he was grinding his teeth, and his deep voice cracked a little on
here.
Flushing angrily, he tilted his chin up in a way that reminded Dylan vividly of Penny.

Raising his voice, Matthew grated out, “I’m the man of the house. Which makes me your
boss, and I say you’re done.”

A gasp from the other end of the kitchen had them both turning to face Penny, standing
in the doorway. The starched pleats of her uniform had wilted over the course of the
day, but her curly hair was as bouncy as ever.

“Matthew Emmett Little! I didn’t raise you to be rude to guests in our home.”

Matthew deflated like a pinpricked balloon, but his mouth went hard and flat. “It’s
not our home, and he’s not a guest. He works here. Like you do.”

Something around Penny’s tired eyes went taut, but her voice was calm as she said,
“Even more reason to keep your sass to yourself. Dylan is here to do a job, and you
will treat him with the same respect you’d expect in return.”

Dylan shifted his weight, wishing he could crawl back under the kitchen sink to escape
the awful tension strung between mother and son.

But when Matthew broke and dropped his gaze away from his mother’s inflexible stare,
he looked straight at Dylan. “I apologize,” Matthew said. “You’re just doing your
job. But we don’t need your help.”

“The Harringtons sent Dylan down here,” Penny told her son, coming into the kitchen
to stand shoulder to shoulder with Dylan. “They hired him. It’s not up to us.”

Matthew struggled visibly for a second, anger and embarrassment at war on his open,
young face. “It should be. We’re the ones who live here most of the time! And I told
you I would take care of all the stuff on this list, Mom. I can do it. And if I needed
help, I could call Dad.”

“Matty…” Penny pressed a hand to the bridge of her nose as if she felt a headache
coming on.

“Don’t call me Matty,” Matthew shouted, deep red suffusing his cheeks. “I’ve told
you a million times, I hate that stupid baby name.”

With that, he grabbed his backpack off the floor and all but ran out of the kitchen.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs and down the hallway, punctuated by the slam
of a door.

Penny winced, then blew out a breath. “Sorry about that. I’ll see what I can do about
getting you combat pay.”

“Don’t give it another thought. Believe me, I’ve seen worse.” Dylan gave her an easy
smile, wanting to lift some of the weight off of her slumped shoulders. “In fact,
I
was
worse. Way, way worse.”

“Matty—I mean, Matt.” She pressed her lips together as if chastising herself. “He’s
a good boy. But ever since the divorce…”

She cut herself off with a little laugh. “Listen to me rattle on. You don’t want to
hear about our problems.”

“Don’t stop on my account. I can’t promise any sage advice, but I’m happy to listen
if you want to talk about it.” Shockingly, Dylan realized it was the truth. He saw
a lot of himself in Matthew’s troubled eyes. And Penny—she tugged at something in
him.

“You don’t have to, just to be nice. I know there’s still a lot of work to finish.”

“I’m never nice. Besides.” Dylan hitched his hip up on the kitchen counter beside
the sink with a winning grin. “I’m due for a break. And maybe another shot at that
iced tea? Although if we fumble this one, too, I’m out of luck. This is my last clean
T-shirt.”

Penny’s gaze sharpened on his face as if he’d just come into focus. “You’re not fooling
anyone, you know.”

Freezing, Dylan’s brain went into an immediate, frantic tap dance trying to come up
with a way to keep this going.

“What do you mean?” he asked, stalling.

A slow smile lit Penny’s round, apple-cheeked face as she sank down into one of the
kitchen chairs. “I don’t care what you say, you’re the real deal. An actual nice man,
hallelujah and praise be.”

Relief and guilt made for a dizzying cocktail. Dylan grimaced at the galloping of
his pulse. He was just starting to slough off the dirty skin of the Bad Boy Billionaire.
He wasn’t ready to go back to being a Harrington yet—but even though it wasn’t hurting
anyone, didn’t matter in any real way, he still didn’t like lying to Penny.

“No,” he said quietly, meeting her warm, kind eyes as she handed him a glass full
of sweet amber liquid. “I’m really not.”

Chapter 4

Under the cover of the table, Penny slipped off her shoes and flexed her exhausted
feet. It wasn’t even four o’clock yet. Plenty of daylight left to get through the
endless mountain of laundry and dirty dishes generated by a teenaged boy. But before
her second shift started, Penny decided she’d allow herself a few moments to enjoy
the strange intimacy that had sprung up between herself and this gorgeous stranger.

“So you were saying, about your divorce?” He went back to tinkering with the kitchen
sink, which somehow made it easier for Penny to open up.

“It happened a few years ago now, but Matt’s still angry at me. The marriage didn’t
just break up—we also left the town we were living in to start fresh here, on Sanctuary
Island. The transition was hard on him.”

“But not on you?”

“It was my choice to leave.” Although there hadn’t been a choice. Not really. “Matt
doesn’t understand why his whole life had to be uprooted, or why I cut off all contact
with his father. Not that his father makes any effort to keep in touch with him, anyway—which,
of course, Matt blames me for.”

“He’s at a rough age.” Dylan shrugged, sympathetic and pragmatic at once. “You’re
an easy target for all those hormones and emotions rocketing around his system, because
you’re the one who’s here for him. Believe me, when I was his age, I was sure everything
would be better if my older brothers would just come home and pay attention to me.
It’s only now, looking back, that I see how wrong I was. And boy, do I regret being
such a jackass to people who were doing their best to look after me.”

“So you’re saying to wait it out, and in ten years Matty will realize I wasn’t a crappy
mother, after all?” Penny laughed, and was surprised to notice that the belly-twisting
tension of yet another fight with her son had almost completely dissolved. “I actually
feel better. You delivered on the sage advice, after all!”

He laughed. “Well, I was once a teenage boy. I know how they think. I wasn’t so different
from your son, in a lot of ways.” The smile slid off his face and those blue eyes
turned serious. Speaking carefully, as if unsure how much to tell, Dylan said, “I
was younger than Matt when I lost my father. Both my parents, actually.”

“I’m so sorry,” Penny croaked around the sudden lump in her throat. It was her worst
nightmare: that something would happen to her, and Matty would be left all alone.

He shrugged. “I was lucky—my brothers and I had relatives who took us in, and they
were wonderful. It could have been a lot worse. But I remember how it felt to be that
age and looking around me to try to see what kind of man I wanted to be.”

“That’s a huge part of why I left my husband,” Penny said, the truth pouring out of
her. “Because I didn’t want Matty to look up to him as an example of how to be a man.”

“I get that. Having no male role model is way better than having a bad one. Maybe
I was lucky my brothers weren’t around more when I was a kid. I can’t imagine what
I would have learned from them. My middle brother is a genius, but a total workaholic
loner. And my oldest brother—well. I guess he could’ve taught me how to close off
all emotion and go through life like a machine while trying to control everyone around
me. Nah, I was better off making it up as I went along.”

He snorted as if to say he was still making it up, and was pretty sure he was getting
it wrong. Penny wanted to hug him so badly, she had to sit on her hands to keep from
reaching out. “It seems to me like you did a pretty good job with that.”

Dylan tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck, then shrugged again. “I
made a lot of mistakes. Wasted a lot of years drinking too much and pretending to
be the life of the party, like that would make up for the fact that I was drifting
without a purpose.”

“What changed?”

His gaze shifted to the side for a second, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I
got a job. I’ve always been lucky. But my point here is that Matt’s lucky, too. He
has you.”

Distracted from her curiosity about this brief glimpse into Dylan’s past, Penny sighed
and rested her aching head on one hand. “Matt’s not going to learn a lot about how
to be a man from me. And all he learned from his father was how to be a bully.”

In the pause before Dylan turned around, Penny tasted the sour anger of her own words
on the back of her tongue. She swallowed it down.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “That probably sounds pretty bitter.”

“Don’t apologize.” Bracing his hands on the counter, Dylan stretched his legs out,
all long lines and lean muscle. “Seems like you’ve got plenty of cause for bitterness.”

“Maybe, but I don’t have to give in to it.” Dredging up a smile, Penny stood and smoothed
down her skirt. Yuck, she was still wearing her stale, maple syrup and strawberry
jam–stained uniform. “I’m going to run upstairs and change out of this. Thanks for
listening. And hey, if you haven’t made other plans—and if you can stand to spend
any more time than you have to with a sullen teenaged boy—you’re welcome to join us
for dinner.”

Dylan crouched to pluck a wrench out of the plastic sack of tools at his feet. “I
don’t have any plans at all. Thanks for the invite.”

The way he said it, head ducked and eyes hidden, set off Penny’s radar. “Did the Harringtons
arrange for a place for you to stay?” she asked slowly.

A dull red flush suffused the back of his neck. “Not exactly.”

Righteous indignation turned her voice sharp. “I can’t believe they sent you to do
a job without making sure you were taken care of! The lack of consideration—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted hastily. “There must be a hotel around here where I can
get a room.”

“On an island this size? Bless your heart. No. You’d have to take the ferry over to
Winter Harbor, which would be a pointless waste of time. You’ll stay with us. We have
more than enough space here—I’ll make up one of the guest rooms.”

When Dylan looked up and met her eye, a distinct twinkle had taken over for whatever
embarrassment he’d felt. “People don’t say ‘no’ to you very often, do they?”

Penny shrugged. “I’m a mom. And I deal with the lunch rush at the Firefly Café every
day. The only way to get through it in one piece is to maintain total, unflappable
confidence at all times.”

“It’s a good trick,” Dylan told her. “And … that was a ‘yes,’ in case I wasn’t clear.
A ‘yes’ and a ‘thank you.’ I really appreciate it.”

For some silly reason, the way he looked at her gave Penny a shiver of delicious heat
all down her spine. Trying not to flutter, she said, “You’re very welcome. Now get
that kitchen sink finished up so I can fix dinner.”

She turned to beat a hasty retreat before the warm shine of his eyes made her visibly
flush, but his voice stopped her.

“Penny. I realize I don’t know you very well, but do you want an outsider’s take on
what your son can learn from you?”

The flutters got worse, moving up from her belly to squeeze at her lungs. Her voice
was embarrassingly breathless when she whispered, “Sure.”

Dylan held her gaze, the force of his ocean-blue stare drawing Penny closer. “In a
single day in this house, I’ve seen a woman who doesn’t back down, who takes charge
of her life and works hard to make it the best life possible, for herself and her
kid. I see a woman who could let the toughness of that life get her down, but who
chooses to smile instead. I see graciousness and hospitality—enough to welcome a stranger
into your home, and to make him feel like … well. You make me feel like we’ve known
each other longer and better than should be possible when we’ve only just met. It’s
actually freaking me out a little.”

Penny had to laugh. It was that, or cry—the emotion struggling up from her chest had
to come out somehow. And given the choice, Penny would always pick laughter over tears.

So she laughed, and held out her hand, and let herself enjoy the tremor of feminine
awareness when his strong, callused fingers enfolded hers. “Considering the way Matty
and I forcibly dragged you into our issues, I’d say you’re no stranger. So welcome
to the family, Dylan—” She cut herself off, and this time the laugh was less shaky.
“You know what? I don’t even know your last name!”