When You're Mine (The Gallaghers) Read online

  Once we were both done with the abs workout, we switched positions, preparing for outer thigh exercises.

  We were both on our sides, watching each other, head propped on one hand, raising the upper leg.

  "Okay. Now we can talk, right?" Isabelle said, smiling from ear to ear.

  "I guess we can." The only exercises that were impossible to do while talking were core exercises. "So, you were saying about your brother," I prompted, not wanting to be the one to speak.

  "My brother is amazing. Well, both my brothers are. I’m very close to them, and I'm so happy they live in New York now. They dote on me, and I dote on them. They pretend they're annoyed with me when I get too much into their business, but I know they're not."

  “How do you know that?" Since I was an only child, this was fascinating for me.

  "Well, that's what I tell myself so I don't feel guilty. I was hoping both of them would have dates for my wedding, but I’ve kind of given up, even though it’s still months away."

  "Why?" I asked innocently, telling myself I did not want to know why Dylan wasn't dating anyone.

  "Well, Ian is a bit of a player. And unfortunately, I can see Dylan is following in his tracks as well. He used to be a bit of a romantic, but he had a long-term relationship that ended badly, and that soured him on romance."

  "Yes, a bad relationship does tend to do that," I agreed, thinking how Elliot made me question myself and the world around me. But I knew the one was still out there. I would meet him, eventually. But one of my post-accident resolutions after the car crash was to stop dating guys who didn’t want the same things I did, which seemed to be the case with Dylan too. So, even though he was sexy as hell and swoon-worthy, especially as he looked after me earlier, I wasn't going to give him any more thought.

  Isabelle was quiet when we moved on to the second leg exercise, and then as we proceeded to inner thigh exercises, the conversation turned to her wedding. I loved hearing about their progress with the arrangements. I was a true romantic at heart, so I was soaking it all up.

  When our session ended, Isabelle headed to the changing rooms, but I went back to the reception area for another protein bar. Propped against the reception desk, I glanced inside the main training room, where we had the cardio equipment and the weight stations. I immediately noticed Dylan doing crunches. Holy crap. The man seemed even sexier than before. Was it all the sweat dotting his skin, or had I been groggy from my fainting spell before? His arms were bent at the elbows, palms at the back of his head. His biceps were on display, and his strong arms were my kryptonite.

  I immediately glanced away, looking at the floor while I munched on my protein bar. Once I finished it, I headed to the staff bathroom to refresh for my next session.

  Dylan, Dylan, Dylan. Why had he made such an impression on me?

  By the time I finished all my sessions later in the evening, I still didn’t have an answer. I was pretty tired. The juice diet had been a terrible idea. Oh well, lesson learned, but I still wanted to check on Dad tonight and do some shopping for him, so it would be a long evening no matter what.

  “Bye, Shauna,” I told the receptionist on my way out, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

  “Bye. Oh wait, before I forget. A client left you a note.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  She took a folded piece of paper from the shelves where clients could leave valuables, handing it to me. I frowned, unfolding it.

  Mel,

  In case you’re wondering why the old-fashioned note, I don’t have your number. Below is mine. I’d be happy if you sent me a short text to let me know how you feel.

  Best, Dylan

  I reread the note twice more, smiling from ear to ear. I had a suspicion that forgetting about my sexy and chivalrous savior wasn’t going to be that easy after all.

  Chapter Three

  Dylan

  After we finished with the gym, we headed to Isabelle and Brayden’s apartment. They were moving into a massive house outside the city in a couple weeks, and I’d offered to help them pack up their apartment. They could easily afford a moving company, but I knew neither of them wanted to let strangers into their home. As was usually the case with Isabelle, it had turned into a family get-together. Our brother Ian was already here, and our sister Josie and three of her husband’s cousins, Ryker, Cole, and Tess Winchester, were on their way. We were so close to the Winchesters that I considered them family.

  “When is everyone else arriving?” Ian asked as the three of us sat on the couch in the living room. The whole place was a mess. Empty boxes were lying around everywhere between stacks of books and clothes.

  I checked my phone a couple times, but I didn’t have any message from Mel. She was probably still doing her training sessions. I chuckled, remembering her mischievous smile when she asked me to keep her secret.

  “Not sure. Everyone said they’re on the way,” Isabelle answered. “Oh, before they all get here, I want your opinion on something for the wedding.”

  Ian and I exchanged a glance. Our sister loved involving us in every decision regarding the big day. The only one I wanted to be involved in was security since paparazzi gave my sister headaches after a few incidents, and I didn’t want anything ruining her wedding.

  But security had been discussed over and over again, and I was happy with all the final details. Now I just participated in wedding conversations to appease my sister. It wasn't my favorite topic, but I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to feel that we were in her corner and supporting her. Brayden’s world was still new to her, and although she had accompanied him on parts of the tour, much of it had been overwhelming. Ian and I moved to New York last year. Prior to that we were in Washington D.C. and only saw our sisters a couple times a year. Now that we all lived in the same city, we wanted to take advantage of getting together as often as we could.

  Usually Isabelle included Mom and Dad on the phone when she had to make big decisions, but this time she didn't. Isabelle sat on the couch between Ian and me, putting her laptop on the coffee table in front of us.

  "Do you think she just wants to torture us?" my brother asked in a mocking whisper, even though Isabelle could easily hear him.

  "Unfortunately, I think it's her way of expressing love, by asking for our help in anything," I said.

  "Exactly," my sister replied, winking at me. "And this isn't hard. I'm trying to compile a group of pictures. I want to surprise Mom and Dad with a slideshow."

  "That explains why they're not on the phone," Ian said.

  "I want to thank them for everything they did for us. A friend had a slideshow at her wedding, and I thought it was a nice thing to do."

  "Okay. We can do this," I said.

  She clicked on the laptop, and a picture of us as kids came up. "All you have to do is tell me if you like the picture or not."

  Ian nodded.

  "Why do you even have these?" I wondered after she showed us a dozen pictures. She had everything from when we were kids up until this year. We were as close as ever. Josie was the oldest and Ian the youngest. At thirty-one, I was in the middle.

  "Oh, I've asked almost everyone I know to send me pictures, and well, you know, Facebook is also a good source."

  I was relieved that my sister hadn’t included any pictures of me with Lina. We'd been together for many years, so finding pictures of me without her was not easy.

  "Okay, so this wasn’t too terrible," Ian said once we finished. "Please don't ask my opinion again on who should sit at what table."

  Isabelle rolled her eyes. "No, you made your opinion clear on the topic last time. Don't worry. I've asked Mom and Dad to take care of everyone back home. They'll know who wants to sit with whom. And they know all our mutual friends. So I'm taking care of them. You successfully managed to weasel your way out of that task."

  “We didn't weasel our way out. It's just not the best use of our time," I said with a grin.

  Isabelle got up from the couch, plac
ing her hands on her hips. "Why are you so grumpy lately?"

  She looked at our brother. "Ian, fess up. Is he having any fun or spending all his time focusing on project Z?"

  Ian and I were running a software company together, Gallagher Solutions. We employed forty people and specialized in cloud solutions for midsize companies. Currently, we were working on one of our most ambitious projects. We’d nicknamed it project Z. It was software for an insurance model for people working in weather-dependent industries. My parents operated a ski lift back in Montana, and the few years when it didn't snow enough, we barely made ends meet. We only managed to get through the season out of the kindness of some friends. I had no idea what would have happened if they hadn't helped. I was determined to help people in similar situations so they’d have some recourse.

  The insurance model wasn’t meant for big natural disasters—those were already sufficiently covered. We were aiming to find a solution for small niches that were currently not covered by insurance models. I got the idea when I researched the organization running the Innovator of the Year competition. Ian and I knew how to build the software, but winning the competition would bring us the right partners to implement the software nationwide. Project Z wasn’t just about money. It was personal.

  "Oh, he's having plenty of fun," he answered. "I don't think you want to know all the details, sister dearest."

  Isabelle mimicked plugging her fingers in her ears and shaking her head. "No, no, you're right. I don't need to know the details. I'm happy to know he's not spending all his time cooped up in the office."

  I got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen island to pour myself a glass of water. "I want to win the competition, that's all. That requires some extra work for a few months. I don't mind."

  "He's not cooped up in his office all the time. He has plenty of fun," Ian repeated.

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Isabelle fixed her gaze on me. After a few seconds, she said, “By the way, I wanted to talk to you about something—”

  The doorbell rang, interrupting her.

  “Saved by the bell,” Ian exclaimed. “You looked like you were about to lecture him, sis.”

  “I was,” Isabelle confirmed. “And don’t think I’ll forget about it just because we have company.”

  I grinned at my sister. “That didn’t even cross my mind.”

  Ryker, Cole, and Tess arrived together. Tess’s eyes bulged when she looked around the apartment.

  “We haven’t started yet,” Isabelle said, sounding a bit embarrassed.

  “She was too busy torturing us with wedding stuff.” Ian filled in everyone. Tess immediately lit up. She was helping Isabelle with the organization of it all too.

  “Hey, don’t start with the wedding planning again,” Ryker warned, “or we’ll never start packing. I know how this goes.”

  Tess grinned. “I’d get mad at you, brother, but you’re right.”

  All the Winchesters were married or engaged, and Tess loved helping with planning. Out of the whole group, Ian and I were the only bachelors left, something she kept teasing us about.

  “Okay, well, I tried to bring as much stuff in the living room as possible. I say we start by putting what’s on the floor in boxes and labeling them accordingly,” Isabelle said.

  Ryker looked around. “Okay, I’m overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff in this room, so I’m going to need detailed instructions.”

  “You can start by actually putting together the boxes. I only had time to build two,” Isabelle said.

  “I’m on it,” Ryker said.

  “Thanks so much for coming. I know you’re all busy,” Isabelle added, and it was true. Ryker worked on Wall Street, Cole ran a real estate company with Josie’s husband, and Tess owned two lingerie stores with her sister Skye.

  “Hey, family comes first,” Tess said. “By the way, is Josie coming too?”

  “Yes. She texted that she’ll be here in half an hour,” Isabelle said.

  Isabelle divided tasks among each of us. Ryker gave everyone a box, and we started shoving the stuff lying around in it.

  Josie arrived a while later.

  “Hey, why didn’t you bring my niece?” Isabelle said with a pout.

  “She’s spending some quality time with her dad. And I’m much faster when she’s not with me.” Josie looked around, grimacing. She was a brilliant lawyer and an organizational genius.

  Isabelle pointed at her. “Hey! It’s a process. Don’t judge.”

  Josie laughed, holding her hands up in defense. “I didn’t say anything. I’m going to grab a box and see how far I can get tonight.”

  Two hours later, the living room looked livable again.

  “Are you taking the furniture too?” I asked, looking up and down at a huge bookshelf, already mentally disassembling it. Ian and I had helped Isabelle with the furniture when she moved from Montana to Philly for college and later to New York.

  “No, everything stays here. We’re renting it out fully furnished. By the way, can everyone stay for dinner?”

  There was a chorus of yeses, and then Isabelle ordered pizza for everyone. I went to her kitchen to uncork a bottle of wine and smiled when I heard someone trail after me. I was betting it was Isabelle.

  “Dylan, can we talk?” Isabelle asked.

  “Is this the lecture?”

  “How did you know?” she replied, sounding perplexed.

  I turned around, grinning. “You walk the way you used to when you were trying to sneak out of the house without our parents hearing you.”

  “Ah, the guilty walk,” Josie said from the living room. She’d clearly eavesdropped on us.

  I nodded. “Exactly.”

  Isabelle laughed. “Well, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not feeling guilty at all. I was just coming to....”

  “Lecture me for checking out Melanie at the gym?” I asked point-blank.

  Isabelle’s jaw dropped. “Yes. How did you know?”

  I pointed at my eyes, then at hers. “You looked at me like you wanted to skewer me today.”

  Isabelle put her hands on her hips, tilting her head. “Okay, you caught me.”

  “Wait a second,” Ian said, “you’re warning him off? You usually try to sell him on relationships.”

  “Yes, but I failed, so I’m switching tactics. Mel wants a relationship and everything that comes with it. And you don't. You keep saying you've sworn off all that. Or has that changed?"

  "No, it hasn’t," I said dryly.

  “See? That’s exactly my point.”

  Ian whistled loudly. “I think he got it, sis.”

  “I’m not so sure. He didn’t say anything,” Ryker pointed out.

  “Oh yeah. Look at his smile. There’s a bit of guilt right there,” Josie said. “He’s planning to ignore the warning.”

  I shot Josie a look.

  “Aha!” she said. “See. Isabelle, I think you’re going about this the wrong way. Telling him someone’s off-limits is like waving a red flag in front of a bull.”

  “Can we change the subject?” I said, laughing at the insane turn this conversation was taking.

  Cole shrugged. “Just saying, Ryker and I were singing a similar tune not too long ago about liking our bachelor status. Things can change fast. Keep an open mind.”

  “Not the subject change I was hoping for,” I confessed with a groan.

  “He’s right, though,” Ryker said.

  And didn’t I know it? These two used to have a completely different outlook on life before they were married. Their perspective was much like my current one, only I wasn’t planning to change it. After a long-term relationship, I proposed to Lina, who turned me down, saying she wasn’t sure I was the one. I later found out she’d been seeing other guys behind my back. I’d been burned once, and it was enough for me to learn my lesson.

  I finally got around to choosing two wine bottles from the fridge and uncorking them. Isabelle took out seven glasses, and I poured white wine in al
l of them. As I picked up my drink, I felt my smartphone vibrate in my back pocket.

  I took it out, reading the new text.

  Unknown: Hey, Mr. Savior. I got your note. I’m feeling great. Thanks for checking on me.

  Dylan: Glad you’re doing okay. Are you home?

  Melanie: Yes. Thank you again for everything today. You’re a white knight, truly.

  Dylan: And an excellent secret keeper, right?

  Melanie: That depends. I’ll wait until next time I see Isabelle to pass judgment on that.

  Dylan: Think I’m going to rat you out? That’s how little you think of me?

  Melanie: Not at all. It’s just that Isabelle’s told me you’re close.

  Dylan: Really? What else did she say? It seems you know more about me than I do about you. How about you level that playing field?

  She didn’t answer right away, but I saw the dots indicating she was typing on the screen. When she finally answered, my face instantly cracked in a smile. It was completely unexpected.

  Melanie: I only spill secrets face-to-face, Mr. White Knight.

  Dylan: I’ll remind you about this next time I see you.

  There was another pause before the next message.

  Melanie: OH THAT SOUNDED FLIRTY. I’m sorry. I’m enjoying a glass of wine.

  I burst out laughing, typing back quickly.

  Dylan: You’re still not off the hook.

  “Is it just me, or does Dylan look like he’s up to no good? And maybe even a bit guilty?” Tess asked in a fake whisper we could all hear.

  I looked up from my phone to find everyone staring at me. I wiggled my eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Yes, we would,” Isabelle said.

  Laughing, I shook my head. “Why don’t you take a guess?”

  “Ha! Game on,” Isabelle said.

  “Man, why did you do this? Now she’s like a dog with a bone,” Ian said. “But hey, you dug your own grave.”

  “I always do,” I admitted, but I lived for the small pleasures in life, like teasing my sisters.

  Tess was half right: I was up to no good. But I wasn’t feeling guilty about it at all.