Tragic

by Devney Perry

  “Piper Campbell.” She shot her hand between us. “It’s my name.”

  I studied her long fingers for a moment before taking them in my own. “Kaine Reynolds.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kaine Reynolds.”

  “I, uh . . .” What the fuck? She was like a fire extinguisher. My hand enveloped hers and the burn just died. “Nice to meet you too.”

  “That was kind of random.” She laughed, slipping her soft hand free. “But I felt like we needed to start over. I know we’ve already had sex and you’ve seen me bawl my eyes out. But I’m kind of a stickler for knowing someone’s last name before they see me naked and since we already broke that rule, I figured it was long overdue that I properly introduce myself.”

  My jaw slackened. Piper was either the craziest person I’d ever met or she saw right to my core, distracting me before I could give in to the rage.

  “Sorry for that crying jag,” she continued. “Sometimes you just need to cry, you know?”

  Not really. Even after everything that had happened in my past, I hadn’t cried. Not once.

  But there was no way we’d be psychoanalyzing my past today. Or any day. “Don’t mention it.”

  She took a long, deep breath and blinked, letting her eyes stay closed a few seconds. When she opened them, she smiled. “You were probably up here for some peace and quiet. I’ll leave you to it. And, um, thanks. Sometimes you just need a hug.”

  As she stepped around me and headed for the trail, I eyed the path going in the opposite direction. It went on for about fifty feet through the meadow, then curved back into the trees. From there, it wound along a thick forest trail for about a quarter mile before opening up into a meadow twice as large as this one.

  It was another favorite spot and one I always visited this time of year.

  The step I took was to follow Piper. “Wait up.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “You can stay.”

  “I’ll come back down. I’m hungry.”

  I wasn’t, not where my stomach was concerned. My cock on the other hand was starving, begging for another taste of her. It swelled as I caught a whiff of Piper’s shampoo in the air. The citrusy, floral scent overpowered even the surrounding juniper bushes.

  Don’t even think about it. I ordered my cock to stand down with a quiet growl. Then I focused on the trail, keeping an eye on Piper as we descended the steepest part of the climb.

  The path widened as we crossed the tree line, and I stepped from behind Piper to walk at her side. Otherwise, I’d probably slip and break a leg because I’d be too busy staring at her ass in those second-skin leggings.

  We walked for a few yards until Piper broke the silence. “I was—ahh!”

  Her ankle rolled and her shoe skidded in the dirt. Arms went flying, feet scrambled, as she tripped, flying headfirst down the hill.

  I reacted fast, grabbing her around the waist before she could fall. One arm wrapped around her hips while the other banded around her ribs. Her ass pressed against the bulge in my groin. Her breasts heaved against my forearms as she breathed.

  Piper tilted her chin, her wide eyes staring up at me. Her lips were so close, all I’d have to do was bend down and take them.

  I swallowed hard, summoning every ounce of willpower. Then I let her go. “Are you okay?”

  “Yep. All good.” She nodded, smoothing down her clothes, though they weren’t out of place. “Thanks.”

  I nodded.

  Nothing good could come of another hookup. Right? It was better if we forgot all about what had happened earlier in her camper.

  “So, how’s your hand?” Piper asked, taking a careful step down the trail.

  “Huh?”

  “Your hand.” She pointed at the hand I’d cut last month.

  “Oh, um, it’s fine.” I flexed my hand, the scab from the cut gone and now just a small red line.

  “What happened?”

  “I was cutting up an apple, and my grip slipped on the knife. It sliced right into my palm. Bled like crazy but it didn’t hurt all that bad.”

  She grimaced. “Ouch.”

  “Eh, it’s not the worst cut I’ve had. My hands tend to get banged up on occasion with my work.”

  “What kind of work do you do?”

  “Woodworking,” I told her. “Mostly custom furniture pieces.”

  “Really?” She laughed. “That’s ironic.”

  “What’s ironic?”

  “Oh, nothing.” She waved it off. “I was just talking about a furniture designer earlier today. He made some pieces for me in New York and offered to make me a dining room table. But he’s got a unique style, very sleek and simple. I’m going for a different style with this house.”

  “Like what?” I asked, my interest sparked. Dining room tables were my specialty, and I was curious what kind of table a woman like Piper wanted in her home.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Something rich and warm. Rustic even. I want a table that is beautiful but functional. I don’t want to worry about spilling wine or using glass cleaner every other day just to keep the fingerprints down.”

  A design came to me immediately, flashing into my mind with such clarity, I knew exactly what I’d make for her.

  I’d use walnut for its strength and its beauty. The wood’s grain variation came to life under my favorite dark brown stain. Instead of four legs, I’d do two wide square posts to give the piece a sturdy flair. Seven feet would be large enough for a good crowd at the holidays but not so long that she’d feel like she was sitting at an island when she was eating alone.

  I mentally sorted through the slabs of wood I had in the shop, the ones I’d collected over the years that were just waiting for the right project. I’d narrowed it down to one of three pieces by the time we reached the split in the trail where she’d take her path home and I’d continue on to mine.

  “I guess I’ll see you around. Neighbor.”

  I nodded. “I guess so.”

  “We’ll try to keep the noise down.”

  “Appreciated.”

  She waved and stepped down her path.

  I let my gaze linger on her ass for just a moment before turning down my own trail.

  “Hey, Kaine,” she called.

  “Yeah?”

  “Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow?”

  The smart answer here was no. There was too much chemistry between us to be confined to her camper. And I didn’t trust myself to keep my hands off of her.

  But instead of declining her invitation and sticking to my original plan to keep some distance, I called out, “Sure.”

  “Six o’clock.”

  I nodded and we both went on our separate ways. I glanced at my cabin as I walked by but didn’t stop as I hustled to the shop.

  By midnight, the project I’d been working on earlier had been tarped and pushed to the side. I’d dug out a raw, magnificent slab of walnut from my stash. It was resting on two sawhorses in the center of the room. And I’d just finished sketching the design for Piper’s table.

  A dining room table that looked exactly like the one I would have made for myself.

  “Stupid sweat glands.” I fanned my armpits, taking a few breaths to calm my racing heart.

  I was so nervous for this dinner with Kaine that I’d been sweating profusely for an hour. My hands were clammy, and I’d put on three layers of deodorant so far tonight. I hadn’t been this nervous for dinner with a man since my first date with Adam in college.

  I wasn’t exactly sure why I’d invited Kaine over tonight. Maybe because he’d been so nice to me on the hiking trail. Maybe because I hadn’t expected him to accept. But he was due at any moment, and I didn’t want to be dripping when he arrived.

  Thankfully, he hadn’t come out of his cabin yet, so I had a few moments to breathe and cool down as I kept an eye on his house through the window.

  It was Saturday so I’d spent the morning cleaning the camper. Then I’d gone to the local grocery store
, where I’d questioned my menu choice at least a hundred different times as I’d wandered up and down all eight aisles.

  Finally, I’d settled on a meal that a burly man with bulging muscles would enjoy: steak and potatoes. Though, I’d grabbed some chicken too in case he didn’t eat red meat.

  I’d come home and spent my afternoon in the kitchen. I’d prepped my favorite scalloped potatoes, which were currently in the oven. I’d cooked and shredded the chicken for my backup meal of barbeque sandwiches. But since scalloped potatoes went great with steak but were too fancy for barbeque, I’d made a homemade potato salad.

  When I’d realized he might not like potatoes, I’d dashed into town for more groceries. I had coleslaw, fruit salad and corn on the cob crammed in my refrigerator.

  It was when I’d finished cooking that the anxious sweating had started.

  The only thing I was certain he’d like was dessert. I was going all out and making my famous skillet cookies.

  I’d found these mini cast-iron skillets a few years ago. I would press chocolate chip cookie dough into the bottom and bake them until they were just past gooey. Then I’d top them with an enormous scoop—or two—of vanilla ice cream, drizzle them with chocolate and caramel sauce and dig in.

  Even after Adam gave up sugar and processed foods, he’d indulge and split one with me.

  Everyone loved my skillet cookies.

  And even though my own skillets were in a storage unit until my house was remodeled, I’d found a skillet to use temporarily at a sporting goods store in Kalispell a couple of weeks ago.

  If Kaine didn’t like sweets, I had no problem eating the entire cookie myself.

  Life was too short to skip dessert on Saturday nights. And my curves wouldn’t maintain themselves.

  A loud gust of wind rolled over the Airstream, and I glanced out the window. The wind had been steadily picking up all afternoon, and the treetops weren’t just slow dancing now, they were doing the polka.

  Not wanting the camp chair I’d set up outside to go blowing down the mountain, I hustled out the door to fold it up.

  “Hey.” Kaine’s deep rumble caught my attention.

  I spun around to see him striding along the path between our homes. The chair slipped from my hands.

  “Hi,” I breathed, raking my eyes over sheer magnificence.

  Kaine wore his signature tan pants—Carhartts, I think they were called. The sporting goods store in Kalispell where I’d bought my skillet had racks and racks of those thick, canvas pants. Apparently, they were a staple in Montana menswear because of their durability.

  I knew from tugging them off his narrow hips that they were heavier than jeans. I knew from watching him leave my camper, shirtless and still glossy with sweat, that they accentuated his incredible ass.

  I tore my eyes away from his beefy thighs flexing beneath my new favorite brand of pants and forced them upward, over his flat stomach.

  He was wearing a hunter-green Henley and had bunched up the long sleeves, baring his forearms. They were tanned and snaked with veins. His biceps pulled tight at the thermal weave, and since he’d left the buttons undone at the collar, it hinted at the chest hair that covered his pecs.

  My gaze drifted higher to his face and I licked my lips. Not even my skillet cookies were as mouthwatering as Kaine Reynolds.

  The color of his shirt made the green in his eyes stand out and the gold flecks darker, more like copper. He’d trimmed his beard today. It was still thick, but he’d cut it back enough so I could see the contours of his square jaw.

  My god, he did it for me. Head to toe, Kaine Reynolds was magic.

  Just the sight of him made my lady parts quiver and my heart do a funny flip. Even when we were in love, my heart had never flipped for Adam. I refused to think about what that meant.

  Instead, I pictured Adam wearing Kaine’s clothes and stifled a laugh. Adam would have looked like a fool in those clothes, an imposter portraying a rugged character. He lacked Kaine’s natural grit and edge.

  My neighbor’s long legs ate up the distance between us quickly, and before I was ready to stop gawking, he was standing in front of me.

  “Hi,” I repeated. “How are you?”

  “Good.” He bent down for the chair I’d forgotten, folding it up and propping it against the camper.

  “You’re right on time. I’ll get dinner started but I forgot to ask what you liked yesterday. Are steak and potatoes okay?”

  He nodded. “Great.”

  “Okay. Would you like a beer or wine? I have red and white.” Along with sparkling water, milk and three kinds of soda in case he didn’t drink.

  “Beer’s fine.”

  Why did he keep grunting short answers? I was sweating again but smiled, hoping to put him at ease.

  He had this odd look in his eyes, one I’d seen a couple of times over the last day. His mouth turned down on one side, not a complete frown, but the beginning of one. His eyebrows slanted together at the center, creating a deep crease above the wide bridge of his nose. And his eyes seemed to go in and out of focus, like he was being torn between past and present. The swirls of gold and brown and green dulled to a muddy mixture of all three.

  I wanted to hug him.

  But instead of wrapping my arms around those broad shoulders, I did the only thing I could think of to steal his attention.

  I rambled.

  “Did you ever see the inside of this house?” I pointed to my future home. “It was a shrine to the sixties. I’m having to remodel the entire thing because it looked like a psychedelic rainbow puked in there. I’ve never seen anything so hideous in my life.”

  He blinked, his eyes refocusing, and glanced at the house. Then he turned to my garbage heap by the Dumpster. “If those yellow cabinets are any indication, I’m glad I was spared the experience.”

  I giggled. “It’s forever burned into my brain. For your sake, I’m glad too.”

  “How’s the remodel going?”

  “Slower than I’d like.” I sighed. “But the crew has nearly all of the demolition done, so now they can start putting it all back together. Luckily for me, the house is structurally sound so they aren’t having to fix a ton of fundamental problems.”

  Making it beautiful was tough enough. In addition to my floor-to-ceiling cosmetic updates, I was removing a few walls to open up the living room and kitchen area. And the master bathroom was going to be rearranged completely to give me more storage space.

  It might be just me, but I liked to have an abundance of bath towels on hand. One day, I hoped to meet a guy who’d want to come over and occasionally spend the night. My future lover deserved plush towels after his morning shower too.

  “Maybe after dinner you can give me a tour,” Kaine said.

  “I’d like that. Come on in.” I led the way into the camper as Kaine followed close behind.

  The moment the door shut behind him, the air turned heavy. My eyes landed on the couch and my cheeks flushed. Just yesterday he’d had me on that couch. Just yesterday he’d been inside me, making me lose all control.

  When I looked over my shoulder, his eyes were locked on the couch. The colors burned bright and clear. They were electric. His chest heaved with short, shallow breaths. Yesterday’s escapades were fresh in his mind too.

  Could Kaine be the guy who used my spare towels? My brain screamed Danger! Danger! and I shut out the image of him emerging from my future shower, naked and dripping wet.

  I cleared my throat. “Make yourself at home.”

  He blinked, then shied away from the couch to sit at the table instead while I went to the fridge and got out his beer.

  With a quick flick of his hand, he unscrewed the top and tilted the dark glass to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he took one long pull.

  I about combusted on the spot. Drinking beer was not supposed to be sexy. But the way he held that amber bottle in his large hand, the way his wet lips barely touched the rim, was scorch-the-earth hot.

>   “Need any help?” Kaine set his beer down, causing me to flinch.

  “No, I’m good.” I spun around for the fridge, busying myself by unloading the steaks.

  Get a grip, Piper. If I kept staring at him, he was going to think I’d just invited him over for sex. Maybe subconsciously, that had been the real motivation for my dinner invite.

  Kaine’s addicting scent filled the camper, and I frowned, knowing the food would soon drown it out. He smelled like wood and spice, something I rarely came across with city men.

  I went back to the fridge, getting out my potato dish just so my hands were busy. His hair was a little too long and curled at the nape of his neck and around his ears. My fingers were aching to find out if the hairs were soft or coarse like his beard.

  Yesterday’s couch time hadn’t been about learning or exploring. It had been all about relieving the tension and scratching the itch.

  But the problem was, that itch was back, nagging me more than ever.

  I turned on the oven and lit a burner on the stove, pushing away the urge to say screw the steaks, I’d rather screw Kaine. I got out a frying pan, ignoring the feel of Kaine’s eyes dragging up and down my backside.

  I’d worn my favorite cuffed jeans tonight, the ones that did great things for my ass and highlighted my slim waist. I’d also worn a simple black tank top with thin straps. The tank dipped low in both the back and front, showing off some skin.

  “How do you like your steak?” I asked over my shoulder.

  He ducked his head to his beer. Busted. “Medium rare.”

  I smiled and went about my cooking, occasionally glancing backward at Kaine. We’d make eye contact, instant heat sizzling between us, until one of us would find the courage to break away. When I went to set the table, I brushed his arm accidentally and he nearly came out of his seat.

  The electricity between us was at ten thousand volts by the time I plated our meal and sat across from him. The room was so stifling with sexual tension, I was barely able to fill my lungs.

  Every breath was a pant. Every heartbeat a boom. Every movement intensified the throbbing between my legs.

  What the hell was going on? It was like years of repressed sexual desire had finally caught up with me. Sex with Kaine had awoken this intoxicating need for more and more and more. Not even the glass of red wine I’d had while cooking had mellowed it out.