If We Never Met by Barbara Freethy

Chapter Three

Dante madehis way back to the Firefly Inn around nine o'clock, having successfully evaded the photographer chasing him. He knew he'd stunned Keira by his sudden departure, but he hadn't had time to explain. Nor had he wanted her to get caught by the camera. Her image would have been splashed across multiple sites, and she'd be pegged as his mystery woman. That wouldn't be good for either of them.

It also wouldn't be good for Nikki. She would have to answer questions about a mythical affair between Keira and him. He knew how fast an innocent moment could blow up into something ridiculous and crazy and yet still be believed by hundreds of thousands of people.

Avoiding that problem had been the best decision he'd made tonight.

The worst decision had been talking to Keira for as long as he had and then buying her fish tacos and rescuing her from her date. Although, he still wished they could have taken a walk down to the lake and gotten to know each other better, because he'd enjoyed talking to her. But that would have been stupid. It wasn't just that he was seeing someone; it was also because what he'd enjoyed most in their short conversation was that she hadn't had any idea who he was, and they'd been able to talk without the shadow of his big life hanging over them. She'd probably figured out who he was by now.

It was just as well. He'd come to Whisper Lake to rehab his shoulder and get his life back. Nothing could get in the way of that goal.

As he neared the inn, he saw lights on throughout the building and several cars in the lot. While he appreciated the charming, homey feeling of the inn, he probably should have stayed in a hotel where he didn't have to greet whoever was at reception or say hello to the other guests. But it was too late now.

When he walked into the lobby, there was no one at reception, but there were voices in the living room, and one of those spun his head around. Keira was sitting on a couch next to Lizzie Cole, the manager of the inn. Across from them was an older couple.

Had Keira come to the inn to track him down?Maybe she'd always intended to come to the inn after her date, but it seemed somewhat coincidental. On the other hand, this wouldn't be the first time a woman had showed up at his hotel. It had happened more times than he could count.

"Dante," Lizzie called, as she saw him standing there.

He silently cursed himself for not having immediately gone upstairs.

Lizzie got to her feet and walked into the foyer to greet him. "Would you like some wine? I also have cookies if you haven't had dessert."

"No, thanks. I don't want to interrupt. I'm just going to go to my room."

"You wouldn't be interrupting, and in case you're wondering, I didn't tell Keira anything about you."

"Did she ask?"

Lizzie met his questioning gaze. "Yes. She told me about the mix-up at Micky's. I told her that I would respect your privacy. But she does know your name now, so…"

"So she'll figure it out."

"At some point."

"I appreciate your discretion."

"You should, because Keira is one of my best friends. And we usually share everything, but she respected our proprietor-guest confidentiality agreement."

He smiled. "Is that a thing?"

She grinned back at him. "It is at my inn. But why don't you join us for a drink?"

He was still debating his answer when Keira joined them. She gave him an uncertain look. "Hi, Dante."

"Keira."

As they stared at each other, Lizzie cleared her throat, then moved back into the living room.

"Is everything all right?" Keira asked. "You were being chased by a photographer the last time I saw you."

"I managed to get away. I'm sure he snapped some pics of my back, but they won't sell without the money shot."

"Your face?"

"Yes."

She gave him a long look. "Should I recognize you? Clearly, you're some sort of celebrity. But I don't know who you are, and Lizzie won't tell me."

"You didn't look me up?"

"I don't automatically go online when I meet someone to figure out who they are."

"You just came here instead."

She gave him a sheepish smile. "Okay, you got me. I was curious after the way you left. Want to save me the trouble of looking you up online?"

"I'm a baseball player."

"Really? What team?"

"Miami."

"What are you doing here?"

"Rehabbing my shoulder at the Whisper Lake Rehabilitation Center."

"I didn't realize you were injured."

"You wouldn't know it until I tried to throw a curve ball. But I had surgery six weeks ago in Denver, and Dr. Grayson Cole prescribed rehab here in Whisper Lake."

Her eyes filled with understanding. "That makes sense. Grayson is Lizzie's older brother. I've never met him, but I've heard he's a brilliant doctor."

"Hopefully his brilliance will allow me to return to my career."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "You must be itching to do that. It's the middle of the season, isn't it?"

"Yes. I'm trying to get back on the mound before the season is over."

"I'm guessing if you have paparazzi chasing you, that you must be really good."

He tipped his head in acknowledgment. "My team won the World Series last year, and I was the winning pitcher. I take it you're not a baseball fan."

"I've been to a few games in Denver to watch the Rockies play, but I don't really follow the sport, or any sport for that matter. Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I came to Whisper Lake hoping for privacy, but it doesn't look like that will happen. Someone tipped off the press."

"Does it really matter if they get a photo of you?"

He smiled at her question. "It's not the photo, it's how it's manipulated, the narrative it suddenly tells, a story that might be completely far from the truth. In a photo of us together, you would be my mystery woman. You would be the reason why I'm in Whisper Lake and not rehabbing in Miami. Your life would be invaded by press. You'd find yourself answering questions about a man you just happened to be standing next to when the camera clicked. But no one would care, because they'd already been told a story that was far more interesting and completely made up."

Her eyes had widened with his every word—her big, beautiful brown eyes that were so expressive, he could read her every emotion. She really was exceptionally pretty, but in a different way than most women he met these days. There was something very real and natural about her. If she had makeup on, he couldn't see it. Not that she needed it.

"I guess a picture of us together would be difficult for the woman you're seeing," she said slowly. "Is that what you're really worried about?"

"That's part of it."

"Wouldn't she believe you if you told her the truth?"

"That I'd bought fish tacos for a woman after pretending to be her date and then rescued her from her real date?"

"Good point. That story does sound…fishy."

He grinned at her words. "Exactly."

"Has she dealt with this kind of thing before, photos of you with another woman?"

"No. We haven't been seeing each other that long."

"How long is long?"

"Two months before I got injured. Since then, we haven't seen much of each other." Was that relief that entered her gaze?

"I guess that isn't long enough to build complete trust in each other," Keira said. "But if you have a good relationship, I'm sure she'd believe you."

"Nikki knows how the media can spin a picture, so she'd probably believe me. I just didn't want to deal with all that. So, I ran."

"You were fast. I didn't even see where you went."

"I ducked around the bar, went in and out of a few other places, and then ended up at a coffeehouse for the last hour where I got to hear bad guitar and even worse poems."

Her smile blossomed across her face once more. "It's open mic night at the Java Blast."

"There was one guy who played the sax who was good, but everyone else should have saved their performance for the shower or their living room."

"I think it's brave when people take the stage and put themselves out there."

"Have you ever done it?"

"No way. I am good at a lot of things, but not music or poetry." She gave him a speculative look. "Do you have more talents than being able to throw a baseball?"

Before he could answer, a loud burst of laughter drew their attention to the living room. "I'm keeping you from your friends," he said.

She frowned as the older woman continued to laugh and the man sitting next to her on the couch put his hand on her shoulder.

"No way. No touching," Keira muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry. I need to interrupt that."

"Interrupt what?"

"Whatever that man is attempting to do with my mother." She stomped into the living room.

Her comment intrigued him, so once again he opted to follow her rather than go to his room. Keira had told him that her mom was ill, but this woman looked vibrant and happy. Keira, on the other hand, looked like a storm cloud about to burst.

"Mom," Keira said. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"What about, dear?" her mother asked.

"Why don't we go to the other room?"

"That would be rude. Why don't you introduce me to this handsome man you've been talking to?"

Keira followed her mother's gaze to him. "Oh, this is Dante."

"Hello, Dante, I'm Ruth," the woman said. "Keira's mother."

"You two look like sisters."

"And you're quite charming. This is my friend, Mark Langley."

When he looked more closely at the older man, he realized the man was staying in the room next to his. "Dante DeAngelis," he said, extending his hand. "I think we're neighbors."

"Yes, I saw you this morning," Mark replied with a friendly nod.

"Mark is the administrator of the new rehab center," Lizzie put in.

"Then I'll probably see you again. I'm rehabbing my arm and shoulder there for a few weeks."

"That's excellent. We'll take good care of you."

"Why don't you both sit down?" Lizzie suggested. "Can I get you some wine, Dante?"

"Actually, I'm going to head upstairs."

"Oh, don't run off," Ruth protested. "Tell us about yourself. How long will you be staying in Whisper Lake?"

"A few weeks, depending on my rehab progress," he answered.

"And then you'll be going where?"

"Miami. I play baseball there."

"Oh, that's interesting," her mom said. "Are you sure you don't want to join us?"

"He already said no, Mom," Keira interjected. "In fact, we should go, too. I can drive you home and save Mr. Langley a trip across town."

"No. I'm going to stay and chat with Mark. I'll meet you at home," Ruth said firmly.

Keira blew out a frustrated breath.

He didn't know why Keira was acting so crazy about her mom being out with Mark Langley, but clearly there was something going on he didn't understand.

"I'll make sure she's not out too late," Mark said quietly, giving Keira a reassuring look, but she didn't look at all reassured.

"You go on, dear," Ruth said, waving Keira toward the door.

"All right. I'll see you at home," Keira said.

As she left the room, he followed her into the entry. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"That man is wrong."

"Why?"

"Because I don't trust him," she said in an angry, hushed voice.

He opened the front door for her, then waved her onto the wide front porch that held a half-dozen Adirondack chairs. But neither one of them sat down.

"Why don't you trust him?" he asked curiously.

"He showed up at our front door yesterday, completely out of the blue. He had a high school yearbook with him and told me that he and my mom had gone through high school together in Denver. Before I could ask him more questions, my mother appeared. She didn't recognize him at first, but when he showed her the photo of the two of them together at a dance, it started coming back to her."

"I'm not hearing the problem."

"He's being super-aggressive. He stayed for a half hour last night. He only left because my mom had a friend coming over. And then tonight he apparently went to our house, picked her up and brought her to the inn for drinks."

"That's horrible," he said dryly.

She made a face at him. "You don't understand. My mom had a traumatic head injury six years ago. She's had to relearn how to walk and talk and she still has problems with her memory. She's vulnerable. I don't like that this guy has shown up out of nowhere and is so eager to get to know her again when it's been forty-five years since they were in high school."

He was beginning to understand the problem. Keira was clearly protective of her mother, and who could blame her after the health issues her mom had been through?

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you all this," Keira said, tucking her hair behind her ears. "It's not your problem."

"Maybe it's not a problem at all," he suggested. "Mark Langley could be a decent guy. He has a good job. I'm sure he was vetted for that.

"That's true. My gut just tells me there's something off about him, and I need to protect my mother. She might look like she's normal now, but she is still fragile." Keira blinked back tears of emotion. "Sorry again." She dabbed at her eyes. "It's just been a long road with her, and I'm tired. I'm going to go before I talk your ears off."

She was down the steps before he could say he wanted to hear more, because he did. But he shouldn't want to hear more. He didn't need to get involved in Keira's life. He needed to focus on his own, so he let her go.

He walked into the inn and jogged up the stairs to his room. When he was inside with the door closed, he sat down on the bed and let out a breath. He wanted to feel the peace of the room, but instead he felt wired and restless. And that was because of a woman who'd sat down at the wrong table and flashed him a smile that he couldn't seem to forget.

He got up from the bed and walked over to the desk, turning on his computer. He opened one of the dozen or so pitching videos he had on his computer, avoiding the one from the last game he'd pitched.

He could remember the exact moment when he'd realized something had torn in his shoulder. The pain had been intense. It had shot down his arm to his fingers and the ball that had left his grip missed the plate by three feet. He'd somehow ended up on his knees. He'd been pitching a no-hitter. He'd been having the game of his life.

Now, he was terrified that it might have been the last game of his life.

To distract himself, he watched an older video of his younger self. That cocky and determined kid would have never believed he'd end up here. But he wasn't here forever. This was just the next stop on his road to recovery.

And that's what he was going to do in Whisper Lake—recover. He would get past this obstacle the way he'd gotten past everything else he'd faced: with grit and a stubborn refusal to accept anything less than a complete recovery. There was no time in his healing process for a beautiful brunette with a brilliant smile.