by Taryn Quinn
Looked like she’d found her target.
He stood with his back to the island and the perky blonde evening clerk, Casey, from the sanctuary leaned too close, her wrists caught in his hands. They looked good together. Dark and light, two halves of a whole. Young, fresh. Their whole lives ahead of them. No one would wonder what he was doing with someone like her because it made sense. They matched, perfect bookends.
They shifted and for a second, Kim debated if he was trying to hold her off. If what she was seeing wasn’t an accurate picture at all. Then the tsunami of conflicting emotions she’d been battling for weeks surged through her and poured out of her throat.
“So sorry to interrupt,” she said loudly, causing Casey to stumble backward. “I wanted some wine. But never fear, we have open rooms available upstairs if you’d like more privacy.” She breezed past them and opened the refrigerator, tugging out the bottle of Riesling. “Excuse me.”
“Kim, what the hell?” Michael grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, holding her still so that she had no choice but to gaze up at his baffled features. The breadth of his chest and shoulders tripped her belly muscles as it often did, though this time she gave her daffy female reaction in the face of supreme male hotness no quarter. “Casey and I were just talking.”
“Touch talking. Is that like touch typing? You close your eyes to sound out the words?” She shoved away from him to set down the bottle of wine, well aware somewhere in the back of her mind that she was overreacting. She didn’t intend to listen to that more sensible part of her brain.
Fact was, she’d been holding too much in for too long. Now that the cork had been pulled, she couldn’t stop the stream.
She glanced around the room, hoping to catch sight of Casey. No such luck. She’d vanished at the first sign of trouble.
“You’re being ridiculous. She was just—”
“She was just touching you. Admit it. You were holding her wrists because they’d either been on you or they were about to be.” She whirled back and glared. The obvious pinch around his eyes and mouth didn’t help mitigate what he’d called her. Ridiculous. That criticism had been leveled at her by exes—especially her ex-husband—too often. She was too excitable, too emotional, too selfish.
Well, fuck it all, she might as well exalt in her flaws. It had only been a matter of time until the real Kim reemerged, right? One of her famous meltdowns was long overdue.
“Yes, she touched me,” he said, stroking her upper arm the same way she’d seen him pet Telly’s head. Gingerly. “I think she thought I was single. Before you came in, I was explaining to her what the score was.”
“You are single.” Even as she said the words, he flinched. The same part of her that knew she’d need to pull on her hip boots to wade out of this mess tried to hold her off but stopping wasn’t an option. Locomotives didn’t slow down on a dime. They flattened whatever was in their path.
Including what they wanted more than anything.
“No,” Michael said, his voice scarcely more than breath. “I’m not. And if you think I’m going to let you snatch the first convenient excuse to end us, you’re mistaken.”
“Don’t use that tone on me. The patient, all-knowing one you’d use on your nieces or nephews. I may be ridiculous but I’m not a child to be managed.”
“You’re overreacting and I know why. You want out. Things are getting too intense between us so you’ll put up any roadblock you can. Including women I don’t even know and don’t care about.”
She shrugged jerkily, pivoting away. When he got too close, she couldn’t think. It became so much harder to care about what she wasn’t even sure she’d seen. Her anger was already flickering, like a flame caught in a breeze. If she didn’t focus, she’d lose it entirely and she’d have no choice but to admit the insecurities that had made her lash out in the first place.
Casey was cute. She smiled all the time and she had a tiny waist and no wrinkles. She was disturbingly even-tempered. No one ever called her the Kiminator—or the equivalent nickname for Casey. Kim was also willing to bet Casey’s brother probably didn’t think she had the emotional IQ of a killer robot.
And even if he did believe that, in Casey’s case he wouldn’t have been right.
Kim pushed her hands through her hair, scattering pins. Goodbye classy upsweep. Hello shrewdo. “You should be with someone your own age. That’s not ridiculous, that’s reality. We’re worlds apart. Fourteen years is more than half of your life.” She swiveled toward him, the stark pain in his eyes pulling her up short. “Face facts. In fifteen years, I’m going to be getting free senior breakfasts and you’ll be barely cruising toward middle age. Do you really want to be the guy stuck with grandma for the rest of your life? Didn’t you play that role once already?”
When he didn’t respond, she went over to him and reached up to cup his cheeks. “You might not believe this now but I’m doing this for you. Walking in here when I did showed me that with sterling clarity.” She let out a shaky exhale. “You need to experience more than I can give you. All you’ve ever known is shackles. I don’t want to put more on you before you understand what you’re giving up.” She swallowed hard, realizing it was the truth. Running neck-and-neck with her jealousy was the desire to protect him—to make sure he got what he needed. And damn straight, it hurt that it might not be her. It hurt like a bitch.
But if she had to be the one to do the right thing, she would. For him she’d do it.
“Your freedom is the kindest gift I can give you,” she whispered.
“What if I don’t want it?” he demanded harshly. “What then?”
She stared at him for a long moment, her feet rooted to the floor. Leaving was the last thing she wanted. This was her house and she was the host of her brother’s wedding and reception. A reception that technically still wasn’t over, though it was definitely waning. Sara’s mom could be counted on to hold down the fort but that wasn’t the point. Asking him to leave wasn’t fair and she couldn’t do it. In a short time she’d begun to associate Michael with her home. His presence there felt as vital as oxygen. Somehow he belonged there as much as she did.
But if she didn’t walk out the door, literally and figuratively, he’d never believe her words would stick. She barely believed it herself. Her want for him burned in her belly, furious and unrelenting. Even fighting with him had only increased her need.
Only one thing could make her move—the memory of the hesitant smile he’d worn for that split second before she’d glimpsed him holding Casey’s wrists. That boyish smile deserved a chance at more. Maybe more than she could give him, even if she tried. She might rage at him for daring to wish for it, but she’d never deny him. She wasn’t Rochelle. She would never try to put him under glass for her amusement.
Never allow him to stay there to indulge his.
“Let me go,” she murmured. “For your sake if not mine.”
He gripped her hands on his face, held them tightly enough to bruise. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, slashes of pure black. Fury and so much more roiled in their depths. He’d never been truly angry around her before. And he was hurt. She could taste his bitterness as sharply as the wine she hadn’t poured.
Shutting his eyes, he dropped his hands. “So go.”
She pressed her lips together and walked away, weaving through the handful of people that still milled through her house. She managed to hold it together until she reached the front porch. Then she saw the swing and remembered sitting there with him in the stillness, feeling a peace she’d so rarely known. She hadn’t been lonely in his arms.
But she was now.
She headed to her car, her only intention to drive until her heart numbed. She put on her usual soundtrack of “I hate men” music and sang along, determined to soldier through the same way she always did. There was no reason to cry. No excuse for mourning something she’d never really had.
With no destination in mind, she pressed the accelerator.
The night landscape whizzed by her window. Houses gave way to trees and land until she cruised past a home she never would’ve aimed for consciously. But there she was, idling outside Michael’s place, her gaze lingering on the lighted windows before dropping to the sign near the road.
For Sale by owner.
Her breath caught and she pressed her fist over her mouth to stifle a cry. He’d done it. His bravery in taking a step he clearly hadn’t been sure about made her eyes swim. And where was she? Running again.
Always running.
She glanced in the rearview and caught a glimpse of her bleak eyes. She hadn’t seen that look on her own face since…ever. Not even when she ended things with her ex-husband. She’d been past the pain by the time she’d signed on those dotted lines. This was all too fresh. And it wouldn’t be getting better anytime soon. Every time she pictured the pain etched on Michael’s face before she walked out of the kitchen, she had to fight back tears. The For Sale sign she couldn’t stop staring at didn’t help.
Doing him a favor was one thing, screwing up supposedly for his benefit quite another. She wasn’t exactly the best at staying the course. Fleeing had long been her default reaction. Like tonight. The only difference was she’d never questioned her actions so swiftly before. She’d been arguing with herself even before she’d arrived at his house but now she couldn’t silence the shriek in her head that warned her to turn around.
God, had she made a colossal mistake?
So what did it matter that she wasn’t a nubile young thang? She had plenty of life left to live. She’d never try to hold him down. No matter what. She wasn’t like that—and she also wasn’t the sort of woman who searched for her own deficiencies. Since when did she compare herself to other women? She had enough self-esteem to know that she had a hell of a lot to bring to the table. And the bed and the floor…
Blowing out a breath, she changed songs. Enough of the moaning and chest-pounding girl anthems. They weren’t what she needed tonight. Especially since he hadn’t messed up. She had. He’d been right about her looking for an out. She wished it wasn’t true. But it was.
She hadn’t felt this emotional and out-of-sorts in too long to remember. He made her want to risk more than anyone had in years. The scene in the kitchen aside, she didn’t really think he couldn’t be trusted. Even the fact he hadn’t told her about selling the house didn’t concern her because she already knew the explanation. He wouldn’t have wanted her to freak out about what selling his home meant for them. Because she would have.
Michael got her. Right down to the ground.
She could put her faith in him. She knew if she turned the car around and went back to the party, he’d still be there holding it all together because that was the kind of guy he was. Solid gold all the way through. Sure, he had baggage. Who didn’t? He also handled his life—and the people in it—with more maturity and grace than people twice his age.
Her on the other hand…
No. She wasn’t going to do that anymore. She had a lot going for her. Exceptional hair. Good brain, when it wasn’t stuffed with stupid insecurities and bad habits. Apparently she even had a willingness to admit she was wrong. So wrong.
It wasn’t her decision to make. He was an adult. If he wanted to walk, she would let him. But she sure as hell wouldn’t push him out because she couldn’t stand the idea of him realizing he needed to go first.
If she truly cared about him as much as she said, she wouldn’t shove him away with both hands—she’d let the choice be his. As it was hers.
By fuck, she was choosing him.
She gripped the wheel in one hand and flipped on her turn signal. She hadn’t been gone that long. After making her excuses to the remaining partygoers, she’d try to explain her mindset to Michael. She’d also apologize. A lot.
Halfway back, she stopped at a light then stepped on the pedal when it changed. Only when the engine sputtered and clunked to a stop did she see the glowing gas pump symbol on her dash. Perfect. She’d forgotten to fill her tank. Didn’t that figure?
Looking up, she narrowed her eyes on the rain slipping slowly down her windshield. She reached for her purse before recalling that she hadn’t brought it with her on her flight from the house. Which meant she also didn’t have her cell phone.
She rotated her ankle, remembering the skyscraper heels she’d chosen to go with her dress. Looked like she’d have to work to make it back to Michael.
He was worth it.
Michael rejoined the party in the living room, his polite smile back in place. It was the smile he’d used on Casey when she’d tried to wrap her arms around his neck, all playful sensuality. She’d been halfway to drunk and probably not even entirely aware of who she was hitting on. He’d known that. Kim hadn’t. Then again, she hadn’t asked. She wouldn’t have, because she’d taken the awkward moment she’d walked in on as an excuse to leave him.
Nothing lasted forever. He knew that better than most. Not even when it felt so right that every moment without her seemed wrong in comparison.
Standing in Kim’s living room when she wasn’t there rubbed him raw, bringing forth a rare violence inside him. He ached to sweep his arm over the mantle and send the family heirlooms flying. Just crack them to pieces. This wasn’t his home. What did he care? She’d walked out and left him. Worse, she’d acted as if he was too stupid to know his own mind and heart.
Did she think he saw her as a new version of Rochelle? Could she be that foolish? They were miles from each other in every way.
He bunched his fists and closed his eyes, fighting his emotions back in line. As much as he wanted to get out of there, he couldn’t. A few stragglers remained and the owners of the house weren’t in residence. Someone had to be responsible. Sara’s mother shouldn’t be left to handle the reception she’d attended as a guest. That wasn’t how family should be treated. Since Kim wasn’t around, he’d do what needed to be done in her stead.
Because it was the right thing to do.
And because he loved her, timeline be damned.
So what if they’d only known each other a few weeks? That number was no different than the years that separated them. He’d been on his own too much to search for reasons to shut her out. He’d rather seek ways to let her in.
When the last of the guests had been ushered out and Mrs. Carmichael had disappeared into her bedroom upstairs, Michael took a step he wished he didn’t have to. He didn’t have any fucking choice. Only one person knew Kim all the way down to the ground. Even Sara wouldn’t have the same knowledge.
He called Brad. On his honeymoon. At one thirty in the morning. Worry for Kim superseded any concerns he had about bothering his boss. She was more important.
After Michael brought him up to speed on Kim taking off mid-party, Brad yawned. Loudly. “Let me guess. She gave you some speech about you not being to blame? It’s not you, it’s me type stuff?”
Michael frowned. “No, not really.”
“Huh. Okay. Did she tell you that she wasn’t ready to settle down?”
“Nope.”
Brad made a noise in his throat. “All right, what did she say?”
Michael ran through the kitchen conversation as quickly as possible.
Brad made more thoughtful noises. Then he sighed. “Sorry, bro. My sister has officially flipped the script. We’re in new territory for the Kiminator.”
“Maybe you calling her that doesn’t help. She’s more sensitive than she lets on. You acting like her emotions don’t make sense probably only makes her react more strongly.”
And you said she was being ridiculous. Dick move much?
Brad was quiet for a while. “You might be right,” he said finally.
“I did the same thing. I belittled her feelings.” Michael rubbed his forehead. “So what do I do now?”
“Give her some space and go after her once you’ve both had time to cool off.”
“Shouldn’t I let her come back to me when she’s ready?”
<
br /> Brad chuckled. “Good luck there. Kim doesn’t come back for anyone. She’s as stubborn as a goat and as ornery as a boar when she’s mad. She’d wait out God himself.”
“Herself,” Sara corrected in the background.
Michael had to grin. “Yeah, well, I’m stubborn too. Maybe she just hasn’t met her match yet.” Or doesn’t realize she has.
“Like I said, good luck. And keep me posted. Text next time, though. I might be otherwise…engaged.”
“Thanks. You and Sara enjoy your honeymoon.”
“We will.” Furious whispering erupted on Brad’s end of the line. “Hey man, wait. We have a surprise for Kim. Maybe you should tell her. If you guys get back together, that is.”
“What surprise?” Michael asked warily.
“It involves Telly. Our new apartment in Laramie is pet-free.”
Michael smiled. At least one good thing had happened tonight. Telly would be sticking around.
A few minutes later, he clicked off the call and took one last glance out the window at the dark, silent street.
God, where was she? Was she okay? If she hadn’t shown up by morning, he was going out to look. She could be hurt somewhere. He refused to take that chance.
Not with her.
At the sound of the door opening and closing, he turned around. And stared at Kim.
Wet, bedraggled, absolutely beautiful Kim.
“It rained,” she said with a sniffle, rubbing the sleeve of her gown over her ruddy, mascara-smeared cheek. “Turns out I don’t melt but sometimes I run.”
Her lame attempt at a joke only made him frown harder as he moved forward to wrap her in the blanket he grabbed from the sofa. “You’re freezing. Let’s get you out of those damp clothes.”
Instead of arguing or firing back a snappy comeback, she just leaned against him. “You’re still here. Why did I know you would be?”
His hands stilled with the blanket halfway around her. “Because you correctly pegged me as a sucker?”
