by Tawna Fenske
Still purring, Floyd bumped his head on Kyle’s arm.
Meg laughed and flopped a second piece of cake on a plate. “You’ve finally figured out Floyd’s psychological oddity?”
“So that’s really it? He hates people who are nice to him, but he loves it when you’re mean.”
“I suppose so.”
“Huh,” Kyle said, folding his hands on the counter. “Maybe I should have tried that with you. I was reaching that point until you FaceTimed me the other day.”
“You were planning to call and leave insults on my voicemail?”
“Figured it was worth a shot.”
Meg handed him a fork. “Eat your cake, goofball.”
She shoved a plate at him, along with a cloth napkin printed with pink and brown polka dots. Putting the lid back on the cake plate, she stuffed it back into the fridge and reminded herself to not let him leave without it. Then she grabbed her own plate and walked around the bar to claim the vacant barstool on the other side of Floyd.
“So, speaking of pets, tell me about your dog,” Meg said as she forked up a bite of cake.
“Bindi,” he said. “I’ve had her about six months. Got her from a rescue group in eastern Oregon.”
“You said she’s an Australian kelpie?”
“Yes. A herding dog on crack. Have you ever seen one?”
She shook her head and swallowed her cake. “No, but I googled after you told me. I watched a YouTube video of a kelpie herding a bunch of sheep together and then running across their backs to get to the other side of the flock.”
Kyle laughed. “I’m weirdly flattered to know you googled my dog.”
“I might have also Facebook stalked you. Speaking of which, I didn’t realize you’d unfriended me.”
“Sorry about that.” Kyle speared his own piece of cake. “Matt gave everyone a guilt trip about it that first Thanksgiving after you split. It just seemed easier to cut ties.”
“It’s okay, I’m not mad.” Meg gave a dismissive wave of her fork before spearing her cake again. “I suppose, under the circumstances, we probably shouldn’t be friends now.”
“Real friends or Facebook friends?”
“I meant Facebook. Seems like the sort of thing your parents would have a problem with.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, and Meg tried not to let it sting.
“So, back to the dog,” she said brightly, and Kyle looked relieved.
“When I told an Australian friend I’d adopted one, he gave me the most incredulous look and said, ‘You got a kelpie, mate? As a pet? Isn’t that a bit like buying a tractor?’”
Meg laughed. “So they’re more like farm equipment?”
“I guess so. A tractor you can snuggle with.”
“That sounds—different.”
“A switch from Karma, anyway. No more lazy Lab napping in front of the fireplace. It’s always go, go, go, go with Bindi.”
“I’d love to meet her sometime.”
Kyle shrugged. “If you want, you can go out to the truck and say hello.”
“What?” Meg set her fork down midbite. “Why didn’t you bring her in?”
He laughed. “The way you avoided me the past week I figured I was lucky just to get myself through the door. Didn’t want to jinx things by inviting my dog in.”
“Ah, see, that’s where you misjudged.” Meg grinned and dabbed up a cake crumb with her fingertip. “I’d have let you in no problem if you had a dog with you. Besides, you just helped me chop a billion pounds of vegetables. You can invite a whole pack of dogs in if you want.”
“What about Floyd?”
They both looked at Floyd, who twitched one ear and gave a low growl. “Floyd loves dogs,” Meg said.
“I’m sure he does.”
“Go get Bindi,” she insisted.
“All right.” Kyle polished off his last bite of cake and hopped off the barstool. Meg followed him to the door, more eager than she had any right to be about meeting a dog.
“I have to warn you, she might be a little nutty at first,” Kyle said. “I stopped at the park and let her run around for a couple minutes on the way here, but she might get excited and piddle when I first let her out.”
“I’ll try to keep my toes out of the way.”
Meg stepped out onto her lawn and waited while Kyle moved down the path leading to his truck at the curb. He’d parked beneath the streetlight, and Meg could see smudges of dog snot on the windows. Bindi must’ve heard his footsteps because she popped her head up and looked out the truck window. Her big, black ears swiveled like furry beacons as her black eyes stared out at him from the mask of brown over her long, black snout.
“She’s adorable!” Meg called as Bindi stood on her hind legs with her paws on the truck door, poking her nose out through the open window.
“She loves going for rides,” Kyle said as he popped the door open. “She hates summertime when it’s too hot for her to be stuck in the truck, so she goes everywhere now that the weather’s cooled off a little. Come on, girl!”
As Kyle swung the truck door open, Bindi leapt out onto the grassy patch beneath the door, her tail swishing frantically back and forth. Meg dropped to her knees on the lawn and patted the ground in front of her.
“Come on, girl! Come see me!”
Bindi pricked her ears, then scampered toward her on muscular brown legs that moved with uncanny speed. Meg opened her arms wide and Bindi scurried into them, a quivering bundle of tail wags and sloppy licks.
“Hi, there!” Meg said, rubbing her hands down the short, black fur. “Welcome! I love doggies and you’re such a pretty one.”
Bindi thumped her tail in agreement and collapsed onto her back, an invitation for Meg to rub her belly. Meg complied, looking up to see Kyle coming up the walkway toward them.
“Oh, my goodness!” Meg said, tickling little circles on the dog’s belly. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing? Who’s the sweetest thing? It’s you, that’s right!”
Kyle stood over them, looking down with a smile. “I’d like the record to reflect that my pet was much more accepting of you than yours has been toward me.”
She grinned and planted a kiss on Bindi’s forehead. Bindi lolled her tongue to the side in ecstasy. “We’re already best friends.”
“Such a hussy,” Kyle chided. “You, too, Bindi.”
Meg laughed. “You’re just jealous I didn’t greet you like this.”
“Guilty as charged. I do love a good belly rub.”
Meg stood up and called the little dog to her. “Come on, sweetie. I just made a batch of homemade dog biscuits for the Humane Society. Let’s get you some.”
“That sounds delicious,” Kyle said. “I hope you have something for Bindi.”
Meg headed into the kitchen and grabbed the large Tupperware container where she’d stashed the biscuits. She pried it open and turned to watch as Floyd stood up on his barstool and arched his back. Glaring at Bindi, he gave a halfhearted hiss, then jumped down and bumped her with his nose.
“See?” Meg said, watching as Floyd twined himself between Bindi’s legs, while Bindi made a desperate attempt to sniff Floyd’s butt. “Told you they’d be fast friends.”
Floyd took a swipe at Bindi’s tail, then head-butted the dog’s ribcage. Meg could hear Floyd purring from five feet away, and it was clear Bindi was too mystified to do any chasing.
“I’ll be damned,” Kyle said. “So Floyd likes dogs and insults. Good to know.”
Meg handed Bindi a biscuit, which she took a bite of before dropping the rest on the floor in front of Floyd. Floyd sniffed it, then nibbled the corner. “Here,” Meg said, handing another biscuit to the dog. “You keep this one for yourself.”
As Bindi crunched into it, Meg looked back at Kyle. “Sorry, did you want one?”
“Nope, but I’ll take another piece of cake.”
“I can do that. You want a glass of wine with it?”
“Wine and cake? Don’t mind if I do.”
&
nbsp; “Go make yourself comfy on the couch. I’ll bring it out in a sec.”
Meg headed back to the kitchen and sliced off another piece of cake. Still aching from her run, she skipped the cake for herself and poured an extra glass of wine from the Sangiovese she’d opened the other night. She set the plate and wineglasses on a tray and carried the whole thing into the living room where Kyle had parked himself in the middle of the sofa. He scooted over to make room for her, so Meg sat down beside him.
Her knee bumped his, and she drew it back, feeling the heat creep into her cheeks. Then she felt ridiculous.
You’ve slept with the guy, she reminded herself. It’s probably okay if your knees touch.
God, that was always going to be there, wasn’t it? They’d been chatting all evening like old friends, swapping work stories and knife tips while they worked together in her kitchen. But the whole time, Meg’s brain kept wandering back to that same old thought.
You were naked together. You had him inside you, hot and hard and—
“Okay, what are you smiling about?”
“What?” Meg asked, taking a sip of wine. “I didn’t go near my ear.”
“Just because you’re not tugging your ear doesn’t mean I can’t tell you’re thinking something you don’t want to say out loud.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “And what part of me not wanting to say it out loud isn’t registering for you?”
“Confession number one,” Kyle said, forking up a bite of cake.
“Wait, this isn’t how the game goes. There was no ear tugging.”
“My game, my rules, which means I can change them anytime I want.” He swallowed a bite of cake and forked up another. “Confession number one—I lied to my mother this morning when she asked what I was doing tonight.”
His tone was light, but Meg felt her fingers tighten around the stem of the wineglass. “So you’re ashamed to have her know you’re spending time with me?”
“Confession number two: yes.”
“Yes?” She’d expected the answer, but still, it smarted a bit.
“Ashamed might not be the right word. I just don’t want to have to explain things.”
“How would you explain it?”
Kyle quirked an eyebrow at her. “Did you miss the part about me not wanting to have to explain it?”
“Yep, just like you missed the part about me not wanting to tell you what I was thinking.”
“Which you still haven’t done.” He grinned and took another bite.
“You haven’t given me your third confession yet.”
“I’m getting there.”
“You can count this as one of your confessions,” she said, taking another sip of wine. “I really want to know how you’d explain it. Not to your mom, necessarily, but someone else.”
“How would I explain what I’m doing here tonight?”
“Yes. To a friend or an acquaintance or—or Cara. How would you explain to your former live-in girlfriend how you ended up here at my house this evening?”
He sighed and set his fork down. “Well, I guess Cara isn’t going to buy that I’m just here because I really like your cake. Not that it isn’t amazing cake.”
“Thank you,” she said, hoping he didn’t stop there.
“I guess I’d say that my whole life, you’ve been off-limits. Either because I was dating someone or you were dating—well, more than just someone.”
“Of course.” The grip on her wineglass became a little tighter.
“And even though those two things have changed, the fact that you’re locked in a major financial dispute with my family is a pretty big obstacle.” Kyle glanced at his cake, then back at her. “Which doesn’t mean I don’t want to tear your clothes off right now and make love to you on this sofa.”
“The sofa?” Meg’s voice was high and tight, and she felt a little dizzy.
“Or your bed.”
“The bed’s nice,” Meg agreed weakly, her pulse thudding in her ears.
“Or the kitchen counter. Really, I’m not picky.”
Meg took a shaky breath. “We can’t do this, Kyle.”
“I know.” He set his cake plate on the coffee table and folded his hands in his lap. “Believe me, I get it.”
“So we’re just going to make ourselves crazy talking about it.”
“Let’s talk about something else.” Kyle took a sip from his wineglass. “I have something I want to give you.”
“Isn’t that what we just agreed not to talk about?”
He laughed and set his glass down, then stood up and headed for the door. Meg wasn’t sure if she was supposed to follow him, so she sat tight on the couch and waited. Bindi looked up from the rug in front of the fireplace where she’d curled up with Floyd. She gave Meg a questioning look, but Meg just shrugged.
“I’m sure he’ll be right back.”
Bindi put her head down and began licking Floyd’s ear. Floyd growled and rolled over. The door opened again and Meg looked up to see Kyle walking through the front door with a small box in one hand. It was maybe eight inches long and less than two inches wide, and Meg tried to figure out what was inside.
Kyle moved around the couch and sat down beside her again. “I probably should have given this to you earlier, but I didn’t want you to feel like you had to make a big production of using it tonight.”
Meg eyed the box with renewed interest. “You’re not doing anything to dispel my theory that there’s something sex-related in there.”
“Open it.”
She set her wine down on the coffee table and held out her hand, and Kyle placed the box in her palm. She pulled off the top, more nervous than she expected to be. For a few beats, she stared down at it, trying to figure out what she was seeing. It was gorgeous and shiny and very, very sharp.
“You got me a knife?”
“I didn’t get it for you. I made it. Out of your engagement ring. Well, your engagement ring and a few other hunks of metal.”
Meg’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes filled with tears, and she picked up the small paring knife and turned it over in her palm. It was the most beautiful kitchen tool she’d ever seen, with swirls of metal on the blade and a sleek, polished wooden handle. A small, clear stone winked at her from the hilt of it, and it took her a few beats to recognize the stone from her ring. Holy crap, he’d really made this for her?
Kyle leaned back against the sofa and watched her. “I probably wouldn’t have messed with it if it had been a real diamond or if the metal was gold or platinum, but once you told me that story about having the band redone in steel, I knew I could forge it into something different.”
“It’s beautiful, Kyle,” she said, tears slipping down her cheeks for real now. “How did you do this swirly thing with the metal on the blade?”
“It’s called Damascus steel,” he said. “I’ve only done it a few times before, but this seemed like a good project to try it on.”
“Damascus steel,” she repeated, touching the swirls of metal along the blade.
“Yeah. You use two types of steel with different carbon levels—that darker one there is ten eighty-five. Most people choose something blended with nickel for the second one, since that adds brightness, but I didn’t do that with yours.”
“You remembered my allergy.”
“Of course. So that’s why yours has a subtler pattern. The blade should be nice and sharp.”
Meg turned the knife over in her hand again, amazed that he’d managed to create something so beautiful from something she’d dreaded seeing in the back of her jewelry box for the last two years.
“Most of the materials came from steel bars I already had in the shop,” he said. “It’s a little tougher to forge with steel that’s already been turned into a ring, but you can see this vein of it running right through here,” he said, trailing a finger along the edge.
“My God, Kyle . . . I can’t believe you made this. It’s incredible. Thank you.”
She sat th
ere staring at it, completely undone by the thoughtfulness of the gift and the talent that had gone into creating it. He’d taken an object of hers and turned it into something new and special and entirely different.
That’s what Matt did with your cookbook. But you knew that already.
Meg pushed aside the twinge of guilt and looked up at Kyle. “It’s amazing,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
She put the knife back in the box and set it on the coffee table, then turned back to face him. She hesitated, then put her arms around him. It was supposed to be a platonic hug, a thank you for the gift he’d made her.
But something happened when her body touched his. Something sparked inside her, flaring her whole body to light. The warmth spread through her like a rush of mercury, and Meg felt herself getting dizzy as she molded her body against his.
It could have stopped there with a hug that felt a little too tight, her breasts pressed to his chest in the heat of her living room. But she drew back then, and looked up at him.
Kyle’s eyes were wild and a little unfocused, and she could tell from the flush in his cheeks that he felt it, too.
“We can’t,” she murmured, her mouth already too close to his.
Then she did it anyway, craving the sparks that arced between them the instant her lips touched his. He kissed her hard, his hands already tunneling under the back of her T-shirt to stroke her bare skin.
Her heart was hammering so hard in her head that she thought it might explode—her heart, her brain, whatever.
The pounding was so fierce that it took her a moment to realize it wasn’t coming from inside her body.
“Honey? It’s your mom. Open up right now, it’s an emergency!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“For the love of all things holy,” Kyle growled as he sat back, pulling his hands off Meg’s bare back like he’d been burned. “What the fuck are the odds? Seriously, are all the mothers in the world conspiring?”
Meg jumped like a kid caught making spitballs in church, and Kyle wondered if all these maternal interruptions would give her some sort of complex.
“Hang on, Mom,” Meg called as she tumbled off Kyle’s lap and landed with a thud on the floor. She scrambled up before Kyle could offer her a hand, and he felt weirdly relieved she seemed more undone by the appearance of her own mother than his. He watched her sprint for the door, tugging down the hem of her T-shirt in a way that made her look guilty as hell.
