Again.
She just wanted stability. And there was no one less stable than bad boy Michael Blade.
Rick was the man she wanted. The man she needed.
Then why can’t you stop thinking about Mike?
“Cripes, I feel sick,” Kaitlin breathed. “I have to go work over there. Today. This is so bad.”
“Don’t worry about it. Maybe he won’t even come outside. Just go over there, do your work and be nice. If you play it cool, so will he and it will be like nothing happened.”
Mike’s whistling had only grown louder and more chipper and she nodded. She could pretend to be cool. For once.
“Maybe you’re right.” Kaitlin pondered for a moment. “Orrrr…you could come help me.” She batted her lashes at her friend pleadingly.
“Not gonna happen,” Cheri deadpanned with a shake of her head.
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun! I’ll teach you everything I know about landscape design. You could learn something useful.”
“Dude, I live in an apartment. And I know you better than anyone – you’re going to use me as a shield.”
“I promise I won’t. Just, you know, it’d be nice spending some time together.”
“Digging up weeds and mapping out flowerbeds? No thanks.”
“Please?”
Cheri stood up from her chair and went over to the sink to dump the rest of her still-warm coffee. “Nope. You’re gonna have to suck it up and do it on your own. I have to go,” she said, running a hand through her short cap of bleach blonde hair.
“Where do you have to go?”
“Back to bed,” Chari announced and made her way to the front door. “Good luck with Mikey. I believe in you!” she called out from the foyer. And with a slam of the door that shook the house, she was gone.
Shit.
Cheri was right. Better to just face it head on, like nothing happened.
Surely there was no rush, though?
She marched over to the little radio her mom kept on the kitchen counter and flipped it on, turning the volume up loud enough to drown out the whistling. First, she scrubbed the kitchen, then the bathroom. Then she decided to organize the spice rack.
Two hours later, the little house sparkled, but she was just as conflicted.
“Stop being such a baby, Kait,” she muttered to herself.
She marched into her bathroom and spent about ten minutes brushing her teeth. Then, she changed her clothes half a dozen times before realizing how stupid it would be to do yard work in a blouse. Instead, she slipped on her favorite black v-neck and decided to call it good.
Here she was, tripping over a guy that she never had feelings for until the unfortunate mix-up the night before. All this nonsense was just that.
Nonsense.
An unbidden memory of a night, seven years before, flickered in her mind. A cool summer night, a drunken kiss of gratitude…a kiss that had wound up causing her a month of sleepless nights.
She pushed away the memory with a groan and slip on her sneakers. She wasn’t eighteen anymore. But Michael Blade might as well have been. He was nothing but trouble.
She checked her teeth and touched up her makeup one last time in the mirror. Not for him, of course. Just looking put together gave her confidence, was all.
But as she forced herself to walk the green mile toward Mike’s backyard, she couldn’t quell the butterflies fluttering like mad in her belly.
4
Michael stared at the half-demolished kitchen and grunted with grim satisfaction. It had taken him three hours of hard, physical labor, but he’d finally tired himself out enough to dampen the need that had been pooling in his groin since Kitty had showed up on his doorstep last night. Wearing that damned bustier and those frigging panties.
His cock stirred and then stiffened and he let out a groan.
Usually he’d at least be enjoying the remodeling work. Physical labor took his mind off his problems.
But even that was a bust.
He cursed under his breath as he swung the claw end of his hammer between the drywall and the last of the cabinets. The night before rang fresh in his memory with every powerful swing. With a single tug, he pried out the side of one of the cabinets. It flew clean off the wall, leaving massive holes on the drywall.
Fuck.
He was letting his thoughts get the best of him. It wasn’t that he was angry. So what was he then? He swung hard at the next cabinet, sending splinters of wood all over the kitchen.
Did he regret it?
He dragged his tongue across his lips and could almost taste hers. And even through the smell of sawdust and sheetrock he could still recall that damned scent.
Hell no.
It didn’t exactly end like he would have liked, but he regretted nothing.
Why in the fucking world was he so antsy then? He couldn’t concentrate on his work. He could barely aim a damn hammer. She was toying with his mind and she didn’t even mean to.
He let his eyes drift closed. She was on his lap again, grinding and kissing and licking and biting.
He opened his eyes and ripped the head of the hammer out of the cabinet before tearing the cheap wood from the cold steel and taking another swing, dead on target.
“I want you.”
Her voice echoed in his skull, bouncing around his brain and touching every nerve, before reverberating down his spine and radiating outward. The skin wrapped tight around his biceps was covered in goose bumps.
He had to get it out of his head. It was nothing. A simple case of mistaken identity on her part.
So why didn’t it feel like a mistake to him? For some reason, it had felt so right. Maybe he thought of her as a bratty little tagalong, but if he was being totally honest with himself, that notion had been squashed the night of her graduation years before. Last night had just been a reminder. Maybe that very knowledge had been the exact thing that had made him determined to do whatever it took to keep her at arm’s length. Because if he got too close, there would be no more denying that Kitty was a grown woman now. And she could say what she wanted, but she had to have felt it too, last night. The chemistry between them…
Little Kitty Pepper had flipped his world upside down. The girl he used to tease and screw with was now on the frontlines of his thoughts and desires. Only he didn’t want to screw with her anymore.
He wanted to screw her.
And that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.
Once he had the last cabinet completely torn from the wall, he set down the hammer and cracked open a bottle of water. He chugged it and wiped the sweat from his brow as he noted the time. Almost noon. Hell, she was probably in the back, surveying the yard right now.
Careful not to step on any nails, he hopscotched his way over to the window and peered through the blinds.
And there she was, dressed in a pair of cutoff shorts and a v-neck shirt that looked like it was made for her.
He let his eyes touch every inch of that body, just as they had the night before. Her fiery red hair flowed in springy locks down past her shoulders, framing her voluptuous breasts. Her skin was like fine porcelain, flawless and smooth. A pair of gorgeous blue eyes studied the tablet in her hands, like two planets suspended in a galaxy of faint freckles. Her lips, full even now, when they were pursed, called to him through the glass.
It was weird – she was just outside the front door, but it felt like she was miles away. He’d always been so confident around her. So at ease with their sharp banter. But now, his every muscle tensed in anticipation of getting close to her again.
In spite of every effort not to think about it, the memory of the first time they’d kissed assailed him. Honey had badgered them into attending Kitty’s graduation. Rick had been back in town after his college finals and, at age twenty, Mike had just opened his one-man bike shop.
Once the ceremony was over, the Blade brothers convinced Kitty’s mother to let her go out for a night on the town with them. She was hesi
tant, but eventually she relented and soon they were packed into Rick’s Tahoe, armed with a set of fake ID’s, flying towards the bars and clubs of Third Street. They found a parking spot on the street towards the end of the strip, and decided to bar hop down it and back. Rick, always the fucking white knight, acted as designated driver.
They were halfway through their pub-crawl, drunk and stumbling, when Kitty started shivering in the unseasonably cool evening air.
“Take my jacket.”
This was a big deal for him and Kitty knew it. He loved his leather motorcycle jacket like a fat kid loved cake. So when he slid it off and around her shoulders, she had beamed with drunken joy and damn, it had felt good.
“Seriously, Mikey?” she’d said.
“Just don’t puke on it.”
Even with his snappy little joke, her eyes had gone all soft and pretty. Then, out of nowhere, she’d grabbed a fistful of his shirt in each hand, rose up on her tiptoes, and planted a long, soft kiss on his lips.
At the time, he didn’t overthink it. Just a drunk kid showing a little sloppy appreciation. And she did end up puking on it a few minutes later. He never did see the jacket again, but every once in a while—okay, way more often than it should have--the memory floated to the forefront of his mind, and he couldn’t shake it.
Like now.
He watched her now as she moved around the yard, checking soil and tugging weeds with the comfort of someone who’d been doing it for a while. She straightened and then blew a lock of hair from her eyes.
Lord, she was pretty.
Part of him wanted to go out there now and set the record straight. Put his cards on the table and tell her, mistake or no, right or wrong, he wanted her. The other part wanted to forget it ever happened, because the way she’d made him feel with just a few kisses scared the shit out of him. It would be easy enough – he’d rib her a bit about her mix up the night before and then sweet talk her a bit. That, he was good at.
What the fuck was he doing?
He drew the blinds shut with a snap and picked his way back into the kitchen. He could have almost any woman he wanted. He sure as shit didn’t need to be the second place, consolation prize for Kitty Pepper, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to apologize for her trying to seduce him.
From his toolbox, he dug out a putty knife and a bottle of solvent. It was time to turn his attention to Honey’s old, rooster-dotted wallpaper. It was yellowed with time and starting to peel at the corners. He used to despise this old wallpaper, but now he almost couldn’t bring himself to tear it down.
Inhaling deeply, he swore he could still smell Yankee pot roast on it.
He poured the chemical remover into a spray bottle and aimed it at the wall. It took half the bottle to coat the entire wall, and soon the smell of Honey’s cooking was masked by the awful stench of chemicals. As the awful yellowing paper began to roll up and disintegrate, an ache formed in his chest.
He wasn’t just scrubbing the wall – he was destroying a thousand memories that were made there. Yeah, so maybe they weren’t all great. Like the day his mother had dropped them off without a goodbye and never came back. Or the day half the neighborhood had come to Honey’s house for sandwiches and casserole the day they’d buried her the year before. But dammit, she had given them their first real home here. One filled with hot meals, and hugs good night and stern warnings about being late. No matter how much trouble he got into, no matter how much he fought it, she’d loved him until he couldn’t help but love her back.
And now they were selling her house.
The grief that had been dulled over the passing of seasons came back sharp as ever, cutting cleanly to his core.
Maybe this was a bad idea. Sure, Honey had told them not to hang on to it out of sentiment. She was practical to the core, and knew that with Rick’s job, he’d land in a big city eventually and Mike needed to be closer to the shop. And the realtor said it would be an easy sale in this neighborhood if they did a quick remodel. Rick even offered to give Mike a majority of the money they’d make off it for putting in the labor.
But was the cash really worth throwing away the only reminder of the happy years of his childhood?
“AHHHHHHHH!”
Mike dropped his putty knife and nearly jumped out of his shoes. Kitty’s scream sent a chill up his spine. He sprinted to the front door and threw the door open to find her in the middle of the yard, high-stepping around like she was walking on hot coals, as five powerful sprinklers soaked her from head to toe with each pass.
Shit. She’d told him a few days before to turn off the timer and he’d totally flaked on it.
His lips twitched, and the ice that had formed in his gut began to melt.
“Hey,” he called out from the deck, “no playing around on the job.”
Kitty looked up, her makeup a runny mess and her red hair sticking in clumps to her face.
“Fuck you, Mike,” she yelled over the jets of water slapping across her body as she scurried to get clear of the sprinkler. “You did that on purpose.”
He tried not to laugh. He really did, but Jesus, it was funny. With all the tension between them after last night, what were the odds that something like this would happen when she was already so pissed at him? It was like Murphy’s Law and laughing was all he could do.
“I swear, Kitty, I didn’t.”
Her brows rose almost comically. She was clearly not buying it.
“You expect me to believe that? This is just like you to do something to yank my chain after--” She broke off and bit her bottom lip, refusing to meet his gaze.
The laughter died in his throat as he realized her feelings were actually hurt. “I swear I’m telling the truth. I forgot to turn the timer off.”
She just crossed her arms around her chest, jaw clenched.
“Come get on the porch, I’ll get you a towel.”
After a few moments of searching through the nearly torn-apart house, he found a clean towel and hustled back to the front porch. But she was gone.
Part of him wanted to go after her. Tell her that he would never do something like that to her, especially after last night, and wipe the hurt look off her face. But maybe that was the problem. They’d both already stepped one foot into a rabbit hole that led to nothing but trouble. Maybe if they pretended like last night never happened it would be better for both of them. Then they could go back to their regularly scheduled program of ball-breaking and she could go after Rick if she wanted him so bad.
The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
“Oh, c’mon Kitty,” he yelled out. “I told you it wasn’t on purpose. You’re being overdramatic.”
Nothing.
“You’re not getting paid to mope around, you know,” he yelled in the direction of her house, figuring she’d gone back. That would get her pissed off and talking back, since she was hardly getting paid at all.
“Hey, jackass,” she called from below.
Mike ran to the side of the deck and looked over the railing. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, it was too late. Kitty stood there, feet spread apart like she was at the shooting range, aiming the nozzle of a water hose right at his head.
“Suck on this, Mikey,” she crowed.
With a pull of the trigger, water blasted out of the hose in a solid jet, hitting Mike square in the face. He choked and garbled down a mouthful of water.
“God damn it!”
He dropped the towel and leapt over the railing, sprinting full speed at Kitty. She laughed maniacally, spraying him from head to toe the whole way. Once he reached her, he grabbed hold of the hose and wrestled her to the ground, drenching both of them even more in the process.
By the time the water stopped flowing, he was straddling her in the grass, the cold water running off his nose in rivulets onto her makeup-smeared face. Her lips parted in a wide grin.
“You think this is funny?” he demanded. He tried to sound pissed off, but wound up choking with
laughter.
“Maybe,” she offered, “just a bit.”
She wriggled beneath him and suddenly, the laughter stopped. Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity. There was nothing but the two of them, wrapped in each other, both sopping wet and breathing hard.
He let out a growl and bent low, sliding his hands into her hair. But just before their lips touched, her eyes went wide with panic. She shoved him hard on the chest and into a muddy flowerbed next to her.
“What the hell?”
“Sorry, Mikey,” she stammered, rolling to her feet. “Gotta go. I left…something on the stove.”
Then, just as she had the night before, she practically sprinted to get away from him. Mike watched her go, trying not to focus on the sexy twitch of those hips beneath the soaked, second-skin shorts.
She could run if she wanted to, but he knew one thing for sure, that he hadn’t known before.
She wanted him.
She knew he wasn’t Rick this time, and she’d still wanted him for real. He could see it in her eyes. The way her pupils dilated when she looked at him. The hitch in her breath when their bodies had touched.
And there was no question that he wanted her right back.
He’d give her a little space. Let her think about him the way he’d been thinking about her, and then he’d make his move.
Because little Kitty Pepper had put a stamp on him. And the only way he knew for sure to rid himself of it was to finish what they’d started.
5
Three days later, Kaitlin lay on the couch watching the blades of her ceiling fan go round. She hadn’t been back to Mike’s since their near-kiss on his front lawn. If this wasn’t an awkward situation before that, it definitely was now. The idea of kissing him again scared her more than anything.
What if she liked it even more than last time? She’d be a goner over a guy whose sole purpose in life to this point seemed to be messing with her for laughs.
Meanwhile, her supposed actual crush was clueless, overseas, donating his time and care to the less fortunate.
Home for the Holidays: A Contemporary Romance Anthology Page 3
