by Reese Ryan
“Not bad, you two.” Blake carried Davis downstairs in his cartoon-character pajamas, with Savannah on his heels.
“Thanks,” Kayleigh muttered, yanking her hand from Parker’s and stepping away. As if they’d been caught making out.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, his cheeks warm.
“Little Man wanted to say good-night to Uncle Parker and Aunt Kayleigh.” Blake looked at his son proudly.
“Good night, Davis.” Kayleigh tickled the boy’s belly and kissed his cheek. For a moment Parker was envious of little Davis as he squirmed and giggled in response.
“Good night, Little Man.” Parker mussed the boy’s soft curls. “See you tomorrow at Grammie and Grandpa’s house.”
Davis called good-night to them repeatedly as his father carried him up to bed.
“That wasn’t too hard, now was it?” Savannah grinned. “No one died, and the earth is still spinning on its axis.”
“You didn’t say you’d be listening.” Kayleigh jabbed the air with an accusatory finger.
“Didn’t say I wouldn’t, either.” Savannah shrugged. “I just thought you’d both feel less self-conscious without observers.”
“Though clearly we had an audience.” Parker pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“As you will at the wedding,” she reminded them. “So you need to be able to say it like you mean it, whether it’s in front of two people or two hundred.”
Parker was a straightforward kind of guy who said what he meant, even if people sometimes misconstrued his words. Putting on a show for Kayleigh’s old friend didn’t sit well with him.
If they were really friends, she should be able to tell the woman the truth without judgment. But then he certainly hadn’t been a shining example of how a good friend behaved, had he?
“I doubt we’ll need to pull this shtick in front of many people. No one but Kira and her immediate family will care.”
“Still, it’s better to be prepared.” Savannah nodded toward him. “Since Parker looks a little green, I’d suggest you try again until you can both recite the words comfortably. When you’re done, there’ll be cake.” She winked.
Parker turned toward Kayleigh and extended his hand. “We’d better try a few more times before the overlord comes back.”
“I heard that!” Savannah called.
“We wanted you to!” Kayleigh responded.
Parker couldn’t help smiling as Kayleigh put her hand in his.
Six
Kayleigh pulled her flame-red Jeep, with the hardtop removed, into Parker’s driveway. He glanced down at the fancy sports watch on his wrist and frowned as he rolled his mountain bike out of the garage. He was wearing a black long-sleeve sports shirt that revealed a more impressive chest and biceps than she’d have expected of the pencil pusher. His black mountain-biking pants had a loose fit but highlighted his strong legs and surprisingly impressive hindquarters.
Not that she cared.
“You’re late,” Parker groused, as if she wasn’t already aware.
She bit back her smart-ass comeback as she hopped out of the truck and met him at the back, where her bicycle was strapped onto the bike rack. “Danette needed help locating one of the orders that had to be shipped out today.”
“Don’t you have some sort of organizing system to keep from losing orders?” Parker lifted his bicycle and strapped it onto the rack and she secured it.
She nodded toward his garage—organized with high-end cabinetry on one wall and a paneled system of shelves, hooks and baskets on the opposite and back walls. “I’m clearly not as organized as you are.”
“Organization is the key to efficiency.” Parker opened the passenger door and nearly jumped out of his skin when her three-year-old golden retriever, Cricket, barked from her perch in the front seat of the truck.
“Are you afraid of dogs?” Kayleigh strapped on her seat belt. “Is that why Blake and Savannah kept poor Benny and Sam in the den while we were there last week?”
“I’m not afraid of Benny and Sam.” He seemed insulted by the question. “I’m just not a big fan of keeping pets indoors.”
Parker folded his arms and stared at Cricket, who growled at him disapprovingly. “Is he gonna move?”
“She called shotgun on the ride over, so that’s a no, chief.” Kayleigh grinned before breaking into laughter at his look of outrage. “I’m just kidding, Abbott. Geez, relax. You look like you’re about to crap a diamond.”
Parker’s eyes widened, then narrowed as he stared at her.
Kayleigh kissed Cricket’s nose and petted her head. “Go to the back seat, girl. It’ll be all right. Despite the mean mug, Parker here is relatively harmless.”
Cricket climbed onto the back seat begrudgingly and barked again to make sure Parker understood how displeased she was.
He dusted bits of Cricket’s hair from the front seat before getting in and using a phone app to close his garage door.
“Thanks for the ride,” Parker said after a few minutes on the road together in silence.
“You obviously weren’t going to put a bike rack on the back of that shiny Beamer. I didn’t have much of an option if I wanted you to come along.” She stared ahead at the road. “Nice bike. How often do you ride?”
“My family bought it one year for my birthday.” He shrugged. “Every now and then, one of my brothers decides we all need to go riding. Usually it’s Cole.”
That explained it. Parker didn’t seem like the kind of guy who hit the bike trail regularly, though he certainly looked the part in his expensive gear.
“Honestly, I think the outdoors is overrated. I never fared very well trekking in the woods with my brothers as a kid.” He absently grazed the scar she knew he had just above his knee from when he’d tumbled down a hill as a boy. “And then, of course, there’s my schedule.”
“I hate to break it to you, but camping is on the agenda in a few weeks. I planned the trip months ago, but you said that if we already had something on the books—”
“I know, I know.” Parker clearly regretted that decision.
“Do you have a tent and camping gear?”
“Wait...you mean old-school camping? As in sleeping on the ground rather than in a cabin or RV?”
“My dad loved camping, and we always roughed it.” Her lips curved in an involuntary smile. Those annual family camping trips were the highlight of her childhood. “Since I’ve been back home, I kind of keep up the tradition.”
“Oh.” Parker cleared his throat. “I never got a chance to say how sorry I was about the loss of your dad and then your mom. She was a really sweet lady, and she had an amazing smile. Same as yours.”
“Thank you.” Kayleigh’s chest felt heavy.
“Since it’s a family tradition, is Evvy coming, too?”
“No.” Kayleigh’s back tensed. Her strained relationship with her older sister, Evelisse, was another sensitive topic.
“I haven’t seen Evvy since—”
“My mother’s funeral,” Kayleigh said sharply.
“Where does she live now?”
“She got a job in LA after college. Been there ever since.”
“You adored Evvy when we were kids. What changed?”
“I realize you don’t always pick up on body language, Parker, so I’ll be direct.” She managed to keep her voice even, despite her irritation. “I do not want to talk about my sister.”
“We’re supposed to be engaged,” he muttered. “Seems like something a fiancé would know.”
Now he wants to be helpful.
“Fine.” Kayleigh heaved a sigh. “Evvy is desperate to erase our family’s past history. She’s still embarrassed about our dad. Ashamed of how poor we were growing up. She doesn’t want any part of this town or anything that reminds her of the humiliation she e
ndured here.”
“Does that include you?”
She gripped the wheel so tightly, her knuckles ached. “It would seem so.”
“I’m sorry, Kayleigh.” Parker spoke after a long, uncomfortable pause. “I honestly didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do. So let’s not talk about it anymore.”
Cricket growled at Parker and then barked twice.
“Seems your dog doesn’t want me to talk about it anymore either,” Parker muttered.
“Her name is Cricket, and she’s an excellent judge of character.”
“Meaning?”
“She senses how anxious you are around her, which is why she distrusts you. And she senses how anxious you’re making me. As you can see, she doesn’t like it.”
Parker glanced over his shoulder at Cricket. “Has it been scientifically proven that dogs can sense emotions, or are you basing this on anecdotal evidence?”
“It’s a real thing, professor. Google it or something.” Kayleigh rolled her eyes and sighed. She just wanted to get through the day without attempting to strangle Parker Abbott. That was looking less likely with each passing minute. “Maybe we should try for some meaningless small talk.”
“All right. Maybe you could tell me why we’re really doing this pretend fiancé thing?”
Parker obviously didn’t understand the concept of small talk.
“I don’t want to be the only person going solo at a romantic-destination wedding.” She kneaded the Parker-induced knot forming in her neck. “I already explained this.”
“You implied it,” he clarified. “But I’m not buying it.”
“Why not?” Kayleigh hit a bump in the road intentionally. Parker could use a good jostling.
“You don’t usually care what other people think. Especially not enough to go through such an elaborate ruse.”
Parker knew her better than she thought.
“And last week, Savannah was about to say something, but you cut her off. You obviously didn’t want me to know.”
“Then why are you asking about it?”
“I’m being forced to jump through a flaming hoop like a trained poodle. Don’t you think I deserve to know whose benefit I’m doing it for?”
Actually, she didn’t.
But Parker was as stubborn as she was. He wouldn’t let this go, so she might as well level with him.
“The bride-to-be is my ex’s younger sister.”
“You’re doing this for some guy?” He sounded profoundly disappointed in her for being so shallow.
“He’s not just any guy. He was going to ask me to marry him.”
“He was your actual fiancé?” Parker turned his body toward hers.
“I didn’t give him a chance to ask,” she said tersely.
“Why not?”
“I loved him. Very much. Maybe if the circumstances between us had been different—”
“Different how?”
“The Brennans are a wealthy, old-money Irish family. Part of the Atlanta aristocracy with the storied sugar plantation to prove it.” Kayleigh shifted gears as they climbed into steeper terrain.
“And?” Parker seemed genuinely perplexed as to why any of that made a difference.
“His mother wasn’t keen on the idea of a brown-skinned girl with no family or fortune to speak of making her way onto the illustrious Brennan family tree.”
Parker’s hands curled into fists on his lap. “If that’s the kind of people they are, you made the right decision not to marry into their family.”
“Don’t get me wrong, she was never overt about it. And don’t get the wrong impression of Kira or Aidan. Neither of them is like that. So much so that I don’t think either of them recognized it in their mother.”
“Do you regret not marrying Aidan?” Parker asked after a few moments of awkward silence between them.
“It was the right choice for both of us.” Kayleigh shrugged, trying to shut out the painful memories of the decision she’d made that day. “He got married a couple years later. Last I heard they were happily married with two kids.”
“And you?” His tone was softer.
Kayleigh focused on the road ahead. She couldn’t bear to see the same pity in Parker’s eyes that she heard in his voice.
“I’m better off without the hassle. Now story time is over. Unless you want to see Cricket do a mean imitation of an attack dog, I suggest we steer the conversation away from all of my failed relationships.”
Cricket growled in response, and a smile slowly crept across Kayleigh’s face.
Good girl, Cricket. Good girl.
Parker pulled out a cloth and cleaned his glasses without responding. He was reasonably sure Kayleigh was joking, but with her growling dog in the back seat, who obviously wasn’t a fan, it seemed better not to test the limits.
Still, he felt a sense of satisfaction at getting Kayleigh to open up to him a little. When they were kids, she’d talked to him about everything, especially her family.
He’d missed those conversations and the easy friendship they’d once shared.
He glanced over at Kayleigh. His eyes were drawn to her strong, toned thighs, visible in her distressed, cut-off denim shorts, which were about an inch and a half too long to be considered Daisy Dukes. Her fitted baseball tee highlighted her ample breasts, and the deep vee offered a peek of her cleavage.
Not that he was looking. He just happened to be a very observant guy who noticed things.
Parker glanced around at the rugged terrain. “We’re biking in the mountains?”
“You’ve got a pricey mountain bike and hard-core biker gear. Don’t you want to put it to good use?”
Not particularly.
He ignored her question. “Do you often ride up here?”
“As often as I can. Savannah’s ridden up here with me a few times. But it looks like we won’t be doing that anytime soon.” Kayleigh pulled into a parking lot for the mountain trail. “I hear you’re going to be an uncle again.”
“Seems that way,” he said absently, studying the trail up ahead and calculating whether he’d brought enough water.
“If you’re not up to this, we can take the beginner trail,” she offered.
He hadn’t been sure what possessed his family to purchase the bicycle in the first place. It certainly wasn’t his ideal way to spend an afternoon. But he’d accepted the gift gratefully and gone for a ride with them whenever the occasion arose.
As much as he wanted to accept Kayleigh’s offer to bike an easier trail instead, there was no way he’d give her the satisfaction of believing that he was incapable of tackling a trail that she and Savannah managed without difficulty.
“No, this is fine.” Parker frowned, stepping out of the truck.
Kayleigh hopped out, opened the back door for Cricket and pulled out a backpack. She put it on as she watched him take his cycle down from the rack.
Kayleigh reached for her bike, but he engaged his kickstand, then took the bike down for her.
“Thanks.” Kayleigh grabbed the handlebar and seat. Her hand accidentally brushed his and she quickly withdrew it, as if her skin had been burned. She glanced up at him momentarily, cheeks flushed.
Parker ignored the zing of electricity he felt when her skin touched his. The same sensation that had crawled up his arm when he’d shaken her hand at the office, the day she’d signed the deal.
“How are you going to manage her while you’re riding?” Parker nodded toward Cricket, who gave him her death stare.
Kayleigh indicated the metal bar extending from her seat. An extendable leash was attached to it.
“Clever.” He watched as she connected it to Cricket’s collar, then patted the dog’s side.
Kayleigh strapped on her helmet and mounted the bicycle. The position drew his att
ention to her generous bottom.
Good Georgia peach.
Heat prickled his cheeks, and his face suddenly felt hot, despite the cool, early spring temperature.
“Everything okay?” She stared at him, her eyebrows drawn.
“Yes, of course.” He put on his helmet and gloves, then mounted his bicycle, too.
“We’ll take the easier of the two mountain trails,” Kayleigh called over her shoulder as she rode toward it.
“Not necessary. Whatever you do normally is fine.”
“You’re sure?” Kayleigh didn’t sound convinced.
“Positive.”
“All right.” She changed direction and headed toward the entrance of the advanced trail.
It was his second big mistake of the day.
* * *
“Parker, are you sure you don’t want to go back?” Kayleigh stopped her bike and put one foot on the ground after they’d been riding for about forty minutes.
“I’m...good,” he coughed, barely able to get the words out. Sweat ran down his face and stung his eyes.
“God, you look like you’re about to pass out.” Kayleigh put the kickstand down and hopped off her bike, looking alarmed. “Your face is red, you’re practically hyperventilating and I’m pretty sure you’re melting.”
“It’s no big deal. I’m fine.”
“You are not passing out on me.” She pointed a finger at him. “I’ll leave your ass up here—I swear. You’re too damned heavy to carry back down that hill. Get off the bike and sit down for a while.” She indicated a wooden picnic table. “You brought water, didn’t you?”
He nodded, still trying to catch his breath while Kayleigh wasn’t even breathing heavily. Parker collapsed on the bench, took out a bottle of water and downed it.
Kayleigh poured water in her hand for Cricket to drink, then sat next to him on the bench, finishing the bottle off.
“I didn’t consider how tough this trail is for someone who isn’t very physical. We should’ve stayed on flat terrain.”
“What do you mean someone who isn’t physical?” He frowned, opening another bottle of water.
