Evening Stars

She gripped the steering wheel with both hands and tried to shake it. “Drive, you stupid car! Drive!”

She stopped when her hands started to hurt, then separated her car key from the house keys on the chain and tucked the car key under the driver’s seat. Then she put her purse over her shoulder and stepped out into the rain. She was soaked in a matter of seconds.

The good news was, if anyone she knew drove by, he or she would stop and give her a lift home. The bad news was, it was dinnertime on a very small island and the odds of rescue were slim.

Nina started the long walk toward some kind of signal. With each step she told herself this was good. Forced exercise. Plus shivering burned calories. It wasn’t cold enough that she had to worry about hypothermia. But her clothes clung to her in a way that wasn’t flattering, and her pants were rubbing on her thighs. She was pretty sure she was going to get a rash. That would be attractive. Too bad she wasn’t a blogger, because this would make for a great blog. She could title it Nina Wentworth’s Very Bad Day.

Fifteen minutes later, Nina had started working through the five stages of grief. She’d quickly moved from denial to anger and thought that might be a good place to stay. Her entire body was chilled except for the friction where her thighs rubbed together. She was shaking, dripping and more miserable than she’d ever been in her life. She checked her cell, but there still wasn’t a signal. At this rate, she would be home before she picked up reception.

She heard a car coming up behind her and turned quickly. She didn’t care who it was—she would happily get in with a stranger, if necessary. Not that there were many on the island this time of year.

She squinted against the rain, trying to figure out if she recognized the vehicle. It was blue and shiny. A new BMW, she thought, as the car slowed. No one she knew drove one of those. The driver pulled up next to her and rolled down the passenger window.

“Hey, are you—” The man stared at her for a second. “Nina?”

Although she’d been reaching for the door handle, now she pulled back. The unfairness of the situation made her want to raise her hands to the sky and ask what she could possibly have done to deserve this.

“Nina?” he asked again. “You’re soaked. Get in. I’ll take you home.”

But she couldn’t, she thought, staring into those green eyes, remembering how they’d softened when he’d promised he would love her forever. Only he hadn’t. Dylan Harrington instead had abandoned her and their forever love his third year of college. He’d left the island and never come back. Well, he’d visited his family occasionally. But he’d never bothered with her again. Not once. Worse, he’d said she was the reason he’d ended the relationship. Yet another person in her life who had been unwilling to take responsibility for his actions.

“Nina, get in. It’s freezing.”

“I’d rather walk,” she said and turned away.

Lifting her head proudly, ignoring the rain stinging her eyes and the burning of her chafed thighs, she proceeded to do just that.

Chapter Two

“NINA, GET IN the car.”

She wanted to ignore him. Really she did. But his tone was insistent, and the Dylan she remembered had a way of taking matters into his own hands.

She closed her eyes and wished him away. But the steady hum of the car creeping alongside proved that plan didn’t have much chance of working.

“Do you know how ridiculous this is?” he asked loudly.

Unfortunately, she did. She also knew that in the end she would get in the car because she couldn’t stand to be this wet and cold any longer. But why did it have to be him? Why not some well-dressed, quiet serial killer? Other people got strangled, but not her. Nooooo. She got the ex-love of her life.

“Fine,” she said, turning and walking over to the passenger side. The door opened smoothly, and she plopped her wet self on the leather seat.

For a second she was engulfed in the scent of new-car smell and the warmth blasting from heating vents. Bliss, she thought, pushing her dripping hair out of her face. Then she turned and once again met Dylan’s green eyes.

His expression was an uncomfortable combination of concern and amusement. Damn him, she thought. Whenever he had crossed her mind over the past decade, she’d envisioned their first meeting would be something she could plan for. That she would be perfectly dressed and answer questions with smooth but subtle one-liners that would leave him impressed by her wit and chagrined about letting her go. She hadn’t thought she would be dripping wet and fighting thigh-burn.

“What happened?” he asked.

To them? To her?

“To your car,” he clarified when she didn’t speak.

“I have no idea. It stopped running. I’ll call the garage when I get home.”

“Then, let’s get you there.”

He didn’t bother asking where she lived. No doubt his parents would have kept him informed on the small island’s permanent population. Had he asked he would have been informed that, yes, she was still living with her mother. Not that she couldn’t afford her own place. She could. It was just that when it came to her mother and taking care of the store and everything else that fell on her shoulders, somehow it had seemed easier to stay put.

They drove in silence for about two minutes. She shifted uncomfortably, aware of her wetness on his pristine leather seats.

“So, you’re back,” she murmured into the awkward silence. At least it was awkward on her part. She had no idea what he was thinking.

“Uh-huh. I finished my fellowship a few weeks ago. Went to Europe for a vacation, then came here.”

A European vacation? She thought about how she’d spent the past month—as she’d spent the past seven or eight years. Working, dealing with whatever disaster her mother created, checking on the store. She had friends she hung out with, and she’d recently joined a book club, but now that she thought about it, her life lacked any level of excitement.

Not that she cared about impressing Dylan Harrington, she told herself. She didn’t.

“You’re still going to join your dad’s practice?” she asked, already knowing the answer to the question.

“Yes.”

“I thought you might change your mind.”

“Me, too.” He flashed her a smile. “But I didn’t want to break his heart.”

Because Dylan’s dad had spent the past decade waiting to say, “My son, the doctor.” Once he could, it was something he repeated endlessly. He’d told everyone who would listen that Dylan would be joining his practice. She supposed most fathers wanted their sons to go into the family business. Doctor and Son, she thought, imagining the sign outside the front door.

“You stopped working for him,” he said.

She glanced at him, then away. “Yes.”

Until last fall, she’d been one of Dr. Harrington’s nurses. Mostly because he was the only doctor in town and she’d hadn’t wanted to commute to the mainland. But with Dylan potentially returning, she’d wondered about job security. Fortunately, Andi had moved to town and decided to open her pediatric practice, giving Nina the perfect job.

“Like working with kids?” he asked, obviously aware of where she’d landed.

“Yes. There are enough families on the island to keep us busy, but not so many that we’re swamped. Andi’s great to work with.”

“Did you leave because of me?” he asked, stopping at the corner and checking before making the turn.

A blunt question she hadn’t expected. “I was excited about the opportunity with Andi,” she said, sidestepping the issue. In truth, she would have left regardless. There was no way she could spend day after day with Dylan. Talk about weird. He’d been her first boyfriend, her first time, her first broken heart. He was a good-looking guy, a doctor, and it was just a matter of time until he fell in love and got married. Not that she wanted him for herself, but she sure didn’t want anyone thinking she was hanging around, pining.

She leaned back in the seat and sighed. Why hadn’t she planned better? This would be so much less awkward if she’d married some rich guy, preferably with a yacht. Or moved to Tibet to open an orphanage. Something remarkable and important. She could at least be studying to be a neurosurgeon. Instead, she was a nurse in a pediatrician’s office, and her romantic past had little to recommend it. She had been married once. For five days. Not exactly her proudest moment.

She and Dylan were supposed to have been doctors together, she thought grimly. That’s what they had talked about. Going to medical school and opening a practice. She hadn’t decided on her specialty, and he’d thought he would go into emergency medicine.

But then they’d broken up, and somehow finding the money to follow her dreams had become impossible. Between dealing with her mom and her baby sister, the store and everything else, she’d lost her way. Nursing school had been so much more practical. She’d only needed two years away at a four-year university. She couldn’t remember making the decision—somehow life had happened.

Dylan pulled into the driveway of her house. Rain still pounded on the windshield, and she wasn’t looking forward to the dash into the house. Not with her scrubs clinging to every bulge and him watching. Just as unfortunate, she could see the general shabbiness of the house from where she sat. It hadn’t changed at all in the past ten years. It needed paint and a new roof. She’d had plans for both, but a plumbing disaster last October had pretty much sucked up her savings.