Our Kind of Love (Men of the Misfit Inn Book 2)

by Kait Nolan

  Porter crossed his arms. “I mean, sure, we’ll respect that. But how are you going to control the rest of town?”

  “I don’t actually know, but I’m hoping if we direct the narrative, do some interviews in Nashville, it’ll keep prying locally to a minimum.”

  “That’s all well and good, but you have to sell it here, too,” Ari pointed out. “Y’all gotta have a date night, at least. Give the gossips fodder to support the fiction you’re presenting.”

  Kyle went brows up. “Should I be concerned that the teenager is this well-versed in how to deal with this kind of situation?”

  “Please,” Ari scoffed. “It’s completely obvious. And this isn’t my first rodeo.”

  “I mean, she’s not wrong. We all know how the Ridge works. You give them half a story to run with, they’ll fill in the rest,” Kennedy said.

  “And there are enough busybodies and romantics to take your well-known childhood friendship and build in a whole host of stuff that maybe didn’t actually happen but fits with what you’re presenting,” Maggie added. “It’ll make them feel good to say, ‘Well, I knew it all along.’ It could make them your best asset.”

  The idea of a fictional romantic version of her relationship with Kyle becoming part of Eden’s Ridge collective memory made trepidation crawl up Abbey’s spine. She’d have to live with that for the rest of her life when this was over. Was she prepared for that? It didn’t actually matter either way now, did it?

  “I take your point, but we can’t leave Granddaddy alone for the sake of a public date night. We only managed to keep him occupied while we’re here because of his poker game. For that matter, how the hell are we going to get loose to go to Nashville for interviews?”

  “Oh, I’ve got you covered for that,” Athena promised. “I’ll bring him out to help film an episode of The Misfit Kitchen that’s entirely about apples. We’ve been talking about it forever and just haven’t gotten around to it since Logan and I adopted the boys. It’ll be multi purpose: You and Kyle have time to do whatever needs doing. I get another episode in the queue. The orchard gets some additional publicity, and your granddaddy’s sweet tooth is satisfied. It’s a win all around.”

  Abbey wasn’t sure she’d call a series of interviews a win for her, but she appreciated the gesture all the same.

  “There are a bunch of us and just two of you. We can entertain your granddaddy so you can have a night off,” Pru assured her. “Even without all of this going on, you took a lot on yourself to give your parents the gift of that cruise. You deserve a break.”

  It meant a lot to Abbey that, even though Pru was unabashedly worried about this whole setup, she was still willing to help. “Thanks.”

  Chapter 7

  Kyle opened the farmhouse door to Griff. “Did you get it?”

  “Yeah. Exactly where you said.” His brother stepped inside and handed over the thing he’d been sent all the way back to Nashville to retrieve. His penetrating gaze was steady. “You wanna tell me why you had that just waiting around in your loft?”

  “Not particularly.” Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Kyle slid it into his pocket. “Thanks for picking it up. And thanks for helping out tonight with Granddaddy.”

  “There’s a James Bond marathon running on TV. If two men can’t bond over 007 and barbeque, there’s something wrong with the world.”

  “Did you bring extra sauce and cobbler?” Granddaddy demanded from his position in the living room recliner.

  “What do you take me for? A newb?” Griff held up the rest of his bags. “I even got ice cream for the cobbler.”

  “Good man,” Granddaddy announced. “From Russia with Love is starting in ten minutes.”

  “Plates in the cabinet to the left of the sink.”

  At the sound of Abbey’s voice, Kyle turned and promptly lost all train of thought.

  The dress was turquoise, with full, lacy sleeves that dropped down to her wrists. A wide, brown leather belt cinched beneath her breasts and emphasized curves that were more pronounced than they’d been when she was a willow-thin teenager. Curves he wanted to get his hands on.

  He’d waited for her down here countless times through the years. To go to school. To head into Johnson City for a movie. To hit up a football game. Or just to drive around town to see what there was to see. He’d seen her in cut-offs, overalls, jeans, and everything in between. He’d certainly seen her in a dress before—they’d double-dated for prom. But the effort had never been for him.

  Okay, this probably wasn’t for him either. It was part of the show they were putting on. And, hell, maybe she just enjoyed dressing up for herself. A lot of women did. But it didn’t stop him from appreciating the way the boots put her right at the perfect height for kissing or how the pretty berry-stain gloss on her lips seemed to invite just that.

  “Wow.” Kyle had to pause and clear the gravel from his voice. “You look amazing.” He hoped he wasn’t drooling.

  “Thanks.”

  Did he imagine her gaze darkening as they slid down his Wranglers and crisp, button-down shirt? Maybe. But he didn’t think the extra color flaring in her cheeks was an illusion as she looked away again.

  “Oooee, Butter Bean! You’re a picture,” Granddaddy declared.

  She grinned and dropped a kiss to his leathery cheek. “I clean up pretty well. You two have fun. And don’t eat too much dessert.” With two fingers, she pointed at Griff and back at herself to indicate she’d be keeping an eye on them.

  “You know that’s an oxymoron, right?” Griff asked.

  Abbey sighed. “At least eat dinner first.”

  He exchanged a grin with Granddaddy. “No promises.”

  Kyle wiped his clammy hands on the seat of his jeans. “You ready?”

  She grabbed her purse. “Let’s go.”

  “Have fun, kids!” Granddaddy sang.

  Woman on a mission, as always, she beat him out the front door. Kyle trailed her down the steps, lengthening his stride to get to the passenger side door of the Land Cruiser and open it for her. One golden brow lifted, but she slid inside without comment.

  This whole situation was built one lie on top of another. But despite it all, Kyle was determined to do this right and take her on a real date. Growing up, he’d never pressed for anything more than friendship, not wanting to risk losing the easy way they were with each other. But it didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted more, hadn’t imagined how he’d try to woo her. Maybe he’d never thought of doing it under these circumstances, but he was the first to understand that beggars couldn’t be choosers, so he’d work with what he had. He wanted to remind her that they could have fun together. To hit on as much nostalgia as possible, since that seemed to soften her. God knew, he had a lot of work to do to make the closure she wanted wasn’t him taking a permanent exit from her life.

  A scrap of lyrics formed in his head as he climbed into the driver’s seat. First date, last chance.

  His fingers twitched against the steering wheel, mentally picking out the melody to go with the line.

  “Need to write it down?”

  Kyle glanced over to find Abbey’s lips curved in faint amusement. “What?”

  “I haven’t forgotten that look. Write it down, so you won’t lose it.”

  Appreciating the chance, and warmed by the fact that, on this at least, she still knew him, he slid out his phone. Opening the notes app where he dumped all his random ideas, he typed it in for posterity. Since he was going for nostalgia tonight anyway, he opened his music and navigated to a playlist of Abbey’s favorites. Because, of course, he had one. He listened to it when he missed her. Which was… most of the time.

  As the unmistakable rhythm of KT Tunstall’s “Black Horse and the Cherry Tree” spilled out of the speakers, Abbey’s faint smile turned into a full-on grin, and she was nodding in time to the music. “Nice.”

  He put the SUV in gear, and she began to sing. Her voice was quiet and pitch perfect. When they’d been young, she never
sang, except with him. That she’d still trust him with that was a gift. It was instinct to add harmony, habit to drum the steering wheel. By the time they made to the end of the long drive, he could almost think that everything was normal. Almost.

  But it wasn’t normal. There was a gulf between them, and it had been years since they’d been okay. Somehow, he was going to woo her, despite all of that.

  “You’re nervous.” Her tone was full of surprise.

  Pausing his thumb tapping, he glanced over. “A little. I’m surprised you’re not.” He hadn’t seen any of her usual tells. Not the chewing on the inside of her lip or the twisting of her purse strap or edge of her skirt.

  Dropping her head back against the seat, she closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m too tired to be nervous.”

  It was an opening for a genuine conversation. Kyle jumped on it. “When was the last time you had the kind of break you’re giving your parents?”

  Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Before I moved home. Going on three years now, I guess.”

  “It’s hard to do the go go go without a break. I get it. I mean, obviously not for the same reasons. But pushing like that, even doing something that matters, it burns you out. I haven’t had a stretch off longer than a few days for about as long.”

  “Really?”

  “Been on tour. One after another. Whatever time hasn’t been on the road has mostly been in the studio. Rinse and repeat.”

  “That’s not what I imagined you’d been doing.”

  Kyle could hear the bitter edge to his own laugh. “The reality of the music business isn’t much like what I imagined when I started out.” He could’ve gone on. Could have talked about the grueling schedules, the increasing lack of privacy, the politics of having to play nice with the label execs, even when they were patently wrong. But he didn’t want to remind her of all the years they’d been apart or the reason for it, and they’d arrived at Elvira’s Tavern.

  There was live music tonight, which meant a crowd. That meant they’d be visible, which was the primary point of this whole outing. He hoped they could both reach a stage where that wasn’t forefront in their minds tonight. Where they could just enjoy each other as they used to.

  Abbey didn’t wait for him to come around and open the door. She’d never been one to wait around for much of anything. But as they met at the front of the SUV, he took her hand. She jolted, just a little, before curving her fingers slowly around his. Warm and steady, her touch grounded him, that tangible link settling some of the nerves. At least until he tugged open the door.

  The interior of the bar was crowded, with several clusters of patrons waiting to be seated. Abbey made eye contact with the hostess and held up two fingers. At the woman’s nod, they moved themselves out of the way, into an empty corner. Kyle tucked Abbey close, as much because he wanted to as not to take up too much space.

  She came willingly, sliding her arms around his waist, hooking her fingers in his back belt loops, and tipping her face up to his. The din of the crowd drowned out most conversations. Of course, that was why he dipped his head lower, close enough to catch a whiff of something floral she’d dabbed onto her throat. He resisted the urge to nuzzle for a better sniff.

  “So what was different about the music business?”

  Surprise distracted him from the feel of her in his arms. “I didn’t think you’d want to know.”

  Her lips brushed his ear as she answered, and Kyle had to suppress a full-body shiver at the contact.

  “I didn’t let myself want to know. But as your fiancée, I’ll be expected to.”

  Right. This was all part of the ruse. The easy affection. Finally asking him something about his life. She was a better actress than he gave her credit for. But, damn it, he wasn’t going to get what he wanted if he kept reminding himself of the deception. So he’d treat all of this as the gospel truth until it either became true or she kicked him out of her life for good.

  Abbey wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know about his career. But it was too easy being like this, all snugged up against him, with his arms wrapped comfortably around her, as what felt like everybody in town watched them. The part of her that was no longer fighting her feelings was desperate to believe the fiction they were weaving, and that was so very dangerous. She needed the reminder of why he’d left, what he’d been doing during all those years away from her. The reminder of the guy he was now, not who he’d been. And his fiancée would know this stuff. She needed to study up.

  His familiar blue eyes—not hidden by the Clark Kent glasses tonight—searched hers for a long moment. “It’s… exhausting. I knew there’d be touring. As an artist, you hope for that because it means the label believes enough in you to fund it. And I do love performing. But I thought there’d be more downtime between for just living. I was expecting a sort of work hard, play hard situation. The reality can be more of a slog. Which makes me sound ungrateful for my success. I’m not. But my wants take a backseat to the expectations of the label, and I’m burning out. Being on tour for the last six months with a woman I despise certainly didn’t help that.”

  None of the old anger and resentment bubbled up at his words. He may have gotten what he wanted, but it came at a steep price. Abbey didn’t see the spark she’d always associated with him. It was exactly what she’d been afraid of for him when he left. That it wouldn’t be what he thought, and he’d lose himself. He’d wanted that, to a point. Wanted to distance himself from who he’d been in Eden’s Ridge.

  At twenty-one, she’d believed that he’d gone too far, become someone else. It was the only way she could reconcile what he’d done. But it wasn’t a stranger who’d come back to the Ridge. Every hour in his company made that more and more clear. And that terrified Abbey as much as enticed her.

  “Why Abbey Whittaker, as I live and breathe! I heard the rumors, and I just didn’t believe it.”

  Abbey’s fingers flexed in Kyle’s belt loops as she braced herself to face the start of the onslaught. Once one broke the politeness barrier, more would follow, like sharks scenting blood in the water. This was the real deal. The moment they confirmed the rumors rather than ignoring them.

  “Mrs. Lowrey, how good to see you.” Kyle shifted Abbey to one side, so they presented a united front.

  It was hard not to stare as he visibly turned on. Broad smile, open, friendly gaze. She’d heard the nickname forever ago—country music’s Captain America, and she’d thought it idiotic. But in this moment, he was absolutely rocking the Steve-Rogers-nice-guy vibes.

  Jolene Lowrey all but fanned her blushing cheeks. “You remember me?”

  “Now, how could I possibly forget the maker of the best red velvet cake this side of the Mississippi?” He leaned a little toward her, lifting a hand to his mouth as if to impart a secret. “And best I’ve had on the other side, too.”

  “You charmer, you!” Her shrewd eyes shifted to Abbey, who instinctively stayed glued to her alleged fiancé’s side. “I’d heard you two were engaged.”

  Multiple other people actively took a step closer, and Abbey had to resist trying to hide behind Kyle. This scrutiny was so much harder than she’d imagined.

  Knowing she had a part to play, she tipped her head to his shoulder and hoped she looked besotted. “Yes, ma’am. There’s nothing like marrying your best friend.”

  Mrs. Lowrey’s expression softened. “After decades of being married to my own, I can certainly second that. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you. I’m a lucky man.”

  “Well, let’s see the ring!”

  The ring. Oh hell. Neither of them had thought of that. People thought they were engaged. They expected a ring. It was part of the telling of the news to show it off.

  Scrambling to cover, Abbey offered a regretful smile. “It’s being sized, I’m afraid.”

  Kyle shifted. “Actually, I just got it back from the jeweler. Meant to give it to you before we left the house.” Before she could ask what the hell he was up
to, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box, flipping it open with one hand, right there in the middle of the tavern’s lobby.

  The ring was simple and perfect, not the flashy or gaudy statement some people might’ve made in defense of a phony engagement. It was a real ring, and Abbey could only stare, speechless. There was no jeweler in town. He’d been here for days. With her or with Granddaddy. When did he have a chance to get this? And where?

  As her brain spun, he plucked the ring from the box and took her hand. Abbey’s heart thundered, some deep instinct of self-preservation urging her to run run run run run. God, she remembered waiting for this all those years ago. Nervous. Excited. So very in love because they’d finally both admitted they wanted to keep the pact they’d made as children.

  But he hadn’t come.

  Abbey tried to hold on to the devastation of that as he looked into her eyes, but it dimmed as he slid the ring onto her left hand. His fingers were warm and sure, his eyes oh-so-serious as he settled the ring in place. The metal of the band was warm and felt made just for her.

  While she struggled not to gape like a fish, he brought her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. “Perfect fit.”

  It was an act. He’d waited to do this here, where they’d be seen and talked about. But it didn’t feel like an act with his ring on her finger and his hand laced with hers. Not with his full attention on her, as if they were the only two people in the room. He seemed… sincere. He’d seemed sincere from the moment he walked back into her life. The part of her that still loved him, still so desperately missed her best friend, wanted to believe that this was real.

  Oh, she was in so much trouble.

  “Whittaker, party of two.”

  Abbey could’ve hugged the hostess for the interruption. She was too shaken to say a word, so it was Kyle who made their excuses to the assembled crowd and led her after the hostess with a hand on her lower back. They sat at a table in a corner. When she still couldn’t seem to find her voice, Kyle ordered their drinks. Apparently, he still remembered the half-sweet, half-unsweet tea she preferred.