Kyara floated in the dark, warm for the first time in what felt like forever. In time, a face formed in the darkness, followed by the rest of a body. It was a man, gray curls framing a light caramel face. The face was kind, eyes full of both wisdom and kindness. Her stood straight and tall, his brown suit falling in perfect, crisp lines.
“Papa?” asked Kyara.
“Yeah, baby, I'm here.” His voice was everything she remembered, soothing and powerful.
“I've missed you.”
“I know, Baby. I've missed you, too.”
She ran to him, feeling his arms around her again.
“Do I need to go with you, now?” she asked her father.
He draw back, looking into her eyes.
“No, Baby. Not yet. You need to stay.” His voice was rough with emotion.
“But I love you. I miss you so much.” Kyara was being tugged now, getting pulled away from the comforting arms of her father. He seemed to be growing smaller moment by moment, fading into the distance.
“I miss you, too. And I love you, too. But that's why I need you to wake up now.”
“No, Papa, don't make me.”
He was just a faint form now, and a voice in the darkness.
“Yes, Kyara. You have to wake up.” The voice was changing, still low and rough, but younger, more urgent.
“Kyara. Kyara. Wake up, Kyara. Stay with me. I can't lose you. I can't. I miss you too much. I couldn't stand to lose you forever. I'll even leave you alone forever. I'll never bother you again. Just, please, Kyara, don't die. Kyara, please, Kyara, I need to know you're alive, somewhere. I need to know you're smile is there. And your eyes. And your heart. Kyara. Kyara. Kyara.
She opened her eyes.
Jason lay next to her, jammed into the sleeping bag along her side. His arms worked frantically, rubbing her whole body, trying to warm her. Nearby, a fire crackled fiercely, holding back the cold of the night. Jason's eyes were red, his face pinched like he'd lost everything in the whole world. His words poured from his mouth without thought or direction. Every part of him was focused purely on keeping her warm and alive.
Kyara turned her head toward him, groggy but alive.
He froze, staring down at her in shock. Relief filled every inch of his face.
Shaking, she strained her head towards his ear. He moved closer, holding her tighter than he'd ever held her before.
He voice croaking, Kyara spoke.
“I can't lose you, either,” she whispered up to him.
Shaking, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. And she held him in return.
Epilogue
Kyara stood in front of her restaurant for the first time in weeks, relieved to be home. The warm spring breeze, so much cooler than back in Georgia, was a welcome relief. Soon summer would be in full swing, but for now the windows in front were wide open, inviting in the breezes.
Kyara pushed inside, surprised to see so many customers seated for lunch. Familiar faces nodded at her, smiling, but allowing her to see to her own business, New England polite. Kyara didn't recognize the new waitress, but she remembered giving Crystal permission to hire a friend or two while she was away, just to keep things moving in her absence.
She made straight for the kitchen, pushing her way into the heart of Main Street Soul.
Crystal stood in the center of the Kitchen, directing her friends through making lunch.
“Watch your timing, Will. The key to a decent meatloaf is all in the timing. Well, that, and the spices, but that's my job. Where are we on table 26?” Mid-directions, Crystal turned and saw Kyara, squealing when she did so.
Before she knew it, Kyara was caught up in a giant hug.
“Welcome back! We didn't expect you until tomorrow. Is everything OK? How is everything?” babbled Crystal.
Kyara smiled, excited to be home.
“I'll fill you in as we work,” she said. “I haven't had a chance to cook in way too long. Where are we?”
They settled in, Taylor relinquishing his chef apron and declaring loudly that they were both insane to like this amount of work. As they found their stride, Kyara filled her young accomplice in on the last several weeks.
“Well, you know they needed my testimony to prosecute the whole gang for my father's murder,” she said. “They had Devante's testimony from his plea bargain, and they finally found the body of that killer who died in the storm. With the gun he brought to kill me matching some of the bullets used in other cases, they had a pretty good case. They needed, me, though, to connect that one guy to the gang and my dad.”
“So was there already a trial and stuff?” asked Crystal, fascinated.
“Not yet,” said Kyara. “Right now they're just building their case. Still, most of that gang is locked up.”
“That's got to feel good,” said Crystal.
“It's a relief,” admitted Kyara. “What's been going on up here?”
“Not a lot. Restaurant is doing OK, but a lot of people say I can't quite get the ox tail right, so I want you to show me again when you can. Your brother even turned up to give pointers, but turns out he's pretty useless in the kitchen.”
“Marcus is still staying with Ashley?” Kyara asked.
“Yeah,” confirmed Crystal. “It's pretty much looking like he might come work up here. That, or he's taking, like, the longest vacation ever. Which, come to think of it, Caitlin seems to be doing to go down and visit your other brother.”
Kyara bobbed her head, acknowledging that both brothers seemed to have found themselves enthusiastic partners.
“Oh, and Marsh is in huge trouble for not investigating those guys who tried to kill you.” Crystal continued. “Turns out Jason tried to get his help that night and he refused to come help. Hey, how did Jason know you needed help, anyway? I never remember to ask you.”
Kyara blushed.
“He says it's because I told him that I wasn't worried. Apparently I only ever say that when I'm lying. He'd turned around to check up on my again when he saw the guy come out of my house.”
“I'm glad he managed to get everyone up,” said Crystal. “This town wouldn't be the same without you.”
Kyara smiled.
“As I understand it, it was mostly Jan yelling at everyone over the phone, but yeah, I'm pretty glad he did, too.” Kyara felt a warm glow as she remembered learning how many people had turned out to search for her in the night.
“Speaking of which,” pushed Crystal, “How was it being with him down there for so long? You didn't kill him or anything?
Kyara couldn't hold back a grin.
“No. We're working it out. He can still be pushy, but he's a lot better about trusting me now that, well...”
“His meddling almost got you killed?” supplied Crystal.
“That,” agreed Kyara. “Still, I've agreed not to use my lifetime of “I told you so” if he can work on it, and so far it's working out pretty well. Speaking of which, I need to talk to you.”
Crystal turned to her, one eyebrow cocked inquisitively.
“How would you feel about becoming a full time partner here once you graduate?” Kyara asked her.
“Really?” Crystal responded.
“Sure. You've obviously done a great job while I was gone. You haven't seemed that interested in leaving for school, but I know you don't want to live with your mom forever. Why not become my partner here for a bit, fair and even?”
“Yes! Absolutely! That would be amazing!” gushed Crystal. “Maybe we could even do breakfasts that way. I mean, trading out shifts or whatever. You know people have been asking for that.”
Kyara nodded.
“It's a good idea, though it may have to wait,” Kyara said. “I'm going to have to take some time off six months from now.” She rested her hand gently on the tiny swell of her belly.
Crystal's squeal of delight and Kyara's elated laugh echoed throughout the restaurant, bringing a smile to all who heard it.
Stay tuned for a b
onus story from Nicole Jordan!
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Copyright © 2015 by Nicole Jordan
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
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Published in the United States of America
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Previously Published as:
Kyara’s Soul
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I leaned across the table and looked into Justin's brown eyes. We both smiled, that sweet slow smile of two people in love.
He reached over and took my hand, stroking my knuckles and making me shiver with desire. His touch could light a fire in me that I never wanted banked.
The tablecloth was cool under our hands, a pleasant contrast to that fire. I reached up with my other hand and moved a wine glass to the side, so my elbow could rest more comfortably.
"I went on a good inspection today," I said. "They took me seriously, which was a nice change. If they put in a good word for me, that promotion I want is looking more and more possible."
He sighed, and the moment was broken. I watched as he looked away from me and spoke in a low, sad voice.
"It would be really nice, just once, to have a date with you where you didn't talk about work. I never talk about work," he said.
"I-I'm sorry," I stammered. "I didn't realize. It's important to me, though. You don't want to hear about what I do?"
Justin smiled at me, the grin spreading across his face the way it only did for me. There was a promise in that smile, a promise of love and sex and all of the finer things in life. The finer things that he gave me - like this dinner, at an amazing French restaurant that I could never afford on my little government salary. I felt a small pang of guilt over that, over not being able to pay my own way.
"I want to hear all about what you do," he said. "Just not every date."
I nodded, but I was a little hurt. I didn't think I talked about work that much, really, and I wanted him to be interested in me. He was right, he didn't talk about his work very much, but he was a banker, and not passionate about what he did.
I loved my job, and didn't want to feel like I had to apologize for that.
Our date got better after that. I talked about my family and about movies coming out soon. He asked questions and appeared way more engaged, and told me about the trip he'd just taken with some of his college buddies.
We spent a lot of time just staring into each other's eyes and playing footsie under the table.
Six months ago, I was enchanted with that, and could spend an entire date barely speaking, only thinking about the touch of my skin against his and the way he looked at me, as though I were the only woman he'd ever met, the only woman he'd ever wanted.
I never thought, before I met Justin, that I'd like that, but oh, it was sweet. It felt so good to be that wanted, to be the focus of single-minded attention and devotion.
Unfortunately, after six months, I was looking for more conversation and more of a meaningful connection.
As I listened to him talk, I felt guilty again. How could I want more than this? Justin was so good to me, so thoughtful and kind. If he wanted to not have to think about work after a long week, that was hardly a crime.
"So, we went out to a club," Justin said, starting to tell me about the last day of the trip.
"What kind of club?" I asked, laughing. "Dance club? Golf club?"
"Not a strip club, if that's what you're wondering about, sweetheart," he said, and winked at me, squeezing my hand and giving me a saucy look.
I laughed again. "You guys wouldn't go to a strip club," I said. "You're all married or dating. Don't be ridiculous."
He laughed too, that pleasant baritone sound that I'd gotten so used to, and I grinned.
"Of course not," he said. "That would be very naughty."
He looked so devilish, then, waggling his eyebrows, that the whole conversation seemed ridiculous.
"Would you like dessert?" he asked, flagging down a waitress.
"Yes, sir?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He was so handsome, it seemed like every women we met when we went out didn't notice I existed.
"Two dessert menus," he said, "And a glass of Cointreau for each of us."
I held up my hand. "I'm fine, just the menu, please."
"Aww, live a little," he said, the waitress waiting, a little awkwardly.
"I've had a long week, and I've had plenty of wine," I said. "If I start drinking with dessert, I'll fall asleep and drool on your shoulder the whole way home."
"So, one shot, and two menus?" she asked, and I nodded.
"You're no fun," Justin said, as she left. "I was hoping to get you all liquored up."
He winked, and we both laughed.
I excused myself to go to the ladies room. When I came back, I saw the waitress leaning over him at our table. Both of them laughed, and then she looked up and saw me.
I smiled at her, and she excused herself and hurried into the kitchen.
"There you are, my dear," he said as I sat down again. My napkin had been refolded in my absence, and the dessert menus were placed perfectly on the table, the crisp parchment catching the light of the candles and seeming to just about glow.
I sighed in appreciation.
"This is one of the best dinners I've ever had," I said, smiling at him, tracing small patterns on his hand with the tip of my finger, enjoying the contact and the company.
"It's not over yet," he said. "Let's take a look at these, shall we?"
He ordered a plate of delicate macaroons and I chose an amazing-sounding lemon crème brûlée.
The desserts were incredible. I shared bites of mine and enjoyed the contrast of the rich pudding and the crisp crunch of the caramel on top. He teased me and fed me a bite of one of his macaroons, which exploded in a taste of orange and coconut on my tongue.
As I scraped the last tiny specs of custard from the dish, he signaled for a waitress again.
"Are you ready to leave?" he asked, the innocent question warring with the desire in his eyes.
"Beyond ready," I said, and shivered in anticipation.
The next morning, I woke up in Justin's king-sized bed and stretched luxuriously. It had been a good night.
A really good night, I thought, as I smiled at Justin's sleeping back.
I reached out and patted his shoulder.
"It's nine," I said. "I should probably get home."
He rolled over and pulled me close to him, kissing my cheeks, my forehead, my collarbone, as I giggled and squirmed.
"Come on, we need to brush our teeth," I said.
"Nope," he said, and laughed against my neck. Oh, he felt so good against me.
He was certainly awake now, I reflected, as I felt an insistent pressure against my hip. As he began to kiss lower and lower I relaxed into the sheets and enjoyed it. What a way to wake up.
I did get home by noon. As soon as I walked in the door, I wondered why I ever left Justin's apartment. My own was small and felt cramped, my queen-sized bed taking up more of the only bedroom than the king-sized bed took up of Justin's master suite.
It wasn't a bad apartment, really. A living room, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom was all I needed, and, to be honest, there were days I rattled around that much space by myself.
I had taken a little time and money to decorate when I'd moved in, but then I got busy with work and never quite finished. I had a decent couch and some nice throw pillows, but a ratty old blanket was usually tossed carelessly on one side from when I curled up and watched bad television alone.
We had only had breakfast, not lunch, so I opened the fridge. Cold pizza did
n't sound very appetizing with the memory of that French dinner so fresh.
I could actually cook something, but it didn't seem worth it for just myself. I grabbed a slice of cold veggie pizza and nuked it for a minute. The crust got chewy and unpleasant, but it was better than cold. Marginally.
I flopped onto the couch with my plate and sighed.
As I ate pizza one-handed, I scrolled through my Netflix queue. Absolutely nothing was interesting. Trashy TV seemed even more garish after the pleasant tastes of luxury Justin gave me, and silly romantic comedies even sillier.
The Ranger's Passionate Love Page 15
