Too Good at Goodbyes

by RC Boldt

  “Silks,” she says shyly. “And it’s really no big deal.”

  I frown at her downplaying it. “It’s definitely a big deal.” Addressing the others, I continue. “She dangles from the top of the arena and flips upside down, gradually lowerin’ herself while she sings and doesn’t miss a beat. Not even a bit out of breath. It’s pretty damn amazin’.”

  A blush spreads across Simone’s cheeks, and my friends murmur compliments about how impressive it is before changing gears and returning to their harassing stories about me. I don’t pay them attention, too focused on Simone at the moment. I lean toward her and lower my voice so as not to be overheard.

  “I don’t reckon you realize how awesome you really are.” It bothers me, the fact that she doesn’t seem to know this.

  Her gaze softens, and the smile she offers makes something tighten in the center of my chest. Simone places her hand on my thigh and gives it a quick squeeze before turning when Noelle asks her a question about touring.

  I find myself staring down at where Simone’s hand rests casually on my leg for a moment before I settle my palm over it and link our fingers.

  Returning my attention to the conversation, I sit back and watch as Simone pokes fun at herself by sharing some of the mishaps she’s made while performing live, one being a slightly out-of-control spin. She has my friends laughing and asking questions, and I can tell they’re really interested and not just being polite. They like her, which is good.

  Because I sure as hell like Simone King a whole hell of a lot too.

  34

  Simone

  Days spent in Kane Windham’s world are ones I know with certainty that I’ll cherish forever.

  ‘Honky Tonk Women’ by The Rolling Stones plays in the background now that Kane’s discovered it’s one of my favorites from the band. We’ve gone back and forth with our favorite bands or singers, and we both tend to sway toward older groups like the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Nirvana, and Heart, to name a few.

  I must admit, he’s the first man I’ve been with who’s so vigilant about what he eats. The other guys I’ve dated might’ve eaten relatively healthy, but they were also the first in line to fill up on enough caffeinated and alcoholic beverages to cancel it out.

  When I mention this after perusing the stocked refrigerator, he lifts a shoulder in a faint shrug from where he stands at the stove, creating a “healthier stir-fry version,” using cauliflower rice. Kane stirs the vegetables in the large pan over the heat.

  “With the injury, the TBI, it brought on some brutal migraines.”

  Sprinkling a little kosher salt over the contents, he grabs a spoon from a drawer and takes a taste. Apparently satisfied, he turns off the heat and removes the pan from the burner. Shifting to lean back against the granite countertop island, he crosses his muscled arms over his chest, and his expression grows somber.

  “Sure you wanna know?”

  My brow furrows because why wouldn’t I? “Of course.”

  His eyes grow cloudy before they flick away. “Sorry. Just…she never really wanted to talk about it.”

  She. Right. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I can understand how a woman could get struck dumb by Kane—and especially by his cock, because that thing is all sorts of amazing—but still. I have a sudden urge to drop-kick this Lucia woman.

  I mirror his stance, crossing my arms, and lean back against the counter across from him. “Well, I do.”

  The clouds subside in his gaze, and his lips quirk upward ever so slightly. “My buddy’s wife, Presley, is a naturopathic doctor as well as a chiropractor, and she hooked me up with some natural anti-inflammatory supplements that don’t have the usual garbage fillers or preservatives.” That faint quirk of his lips deepens now, his mouth forming an affectionate grin. “She told me to stop drinkin’ any animal milk. No cow’s milk, no goat’s milk, none of it.”

  I nod. Elimination diets can often be helpful. “Makes sense. Once I cut that out of my diet, I was amazed at how much better I felt.”

  “Yeah, I was pretty damn skeptical at first.” He laughs softly. “But the next thing I knew, I was havin’ fewer and fewer migraines, and when they did set in, they weren’t anywhere even close to bein’ as bad.”

  Kane’s features soften, and one corner of his mouth hitches upward slightly. “Pres is a tiny thing, but she’s fierce when need be. She woulda harped on me till I gave in.”

  “Presley sounds pretty cool.” It dawns on me that she wasn’t at the dinner with everyone else the other night. Tipping my head to the side, I ask, “Will I get to meet her while I’m here?”

  “They went out of town.” His answer’s succinct, but something that sounds like regret is threaded in his tone.

  Kane’s arms drop to his sides, but a split second later, he raises a hand, raking his fingers through his hair. The actions strike me as fidgety, and a sense of foreboding rolls over me before he even adds, “Lucia works in the same office with Pres.”

  Dragging his hand over his sharp jaw, his eyes dart around to everything—the counter to my left, the cabinets above my head, somewhere off to the side—before he finally meets my gaze. A deep anguish glows in the depths. “It’s been…weird. Like there’s a huge elephant in the goddamn room when I see Pres, and I fuckin’ hate it. I don’t blame her, but…” He trails off and shakes his head.

  I straighten and approach, drawing to a stop in front of him. My hands move to his chest and slowly smooth out the invisible wrinkles in his cotton shirt. A total excuse to touch him, to feel his firm body beneath my palms and soak up the warmth and hopefully comfort him.

  Keeping my tone gentle, I say, “If Presley’s anything like your other friends, I’d bet all the money in the bank she hates it too and probably wants things to go back to normal.”

  His gaze doesn’t waver from mine, his expression so unguarded and vulnerable that it sends a flurry of emotion coursing through me. “Reckon so?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  There’s the briefest pause as he gauges my response, eyes searching my features before I find myself wrapped in his arms. He holds me tight, his feet far enough apart to make room for me to stand between them. With my cheek resting against his shoulder, his neck is so close I can’t resist dusting a soft kiss to the side.

  “Stir-fry’s gonna get cold.”

  “Mmm.” That’s all I can manage because right now, right here with him, I couldn’t care less about the food. The world outside could expire, and I’d be just fine as long as we stayed liked this.

  Comfortable silence ensconces us, and I let my eyes fall closed, basking in Kane’s warmth and clean, masculine scent. I’m so relaxed that it catches me off guard when he finally speaks in a hushed tone.

  “Thanks for this.”

  A smile touches my lips, but I don’t open my eyes. I simply want to cherish this, the way he’s holding me tight as though I’m something precious he wants to keep safe. Something he doesn’t want to let go of. Like I matter to him—maybe as much as he’s come to matter to me. Or at least, I can hope he might feel that way.

  But David returns from his honeymoon in just a few days. We’re at the end of the line, and the subject of What happens now? hasn’t come up. Not once. I’m not sure if he’s planning to talk to me before we leave here or… Shit. I don’t know. What I do know is, it needs to be addressed.

  My feelings for Kane have been growing stronger, intensifying, and it’s inevitable that they’ll overflow, compelling me to lay everything on the line. The thought of doing that again scares me shitless, but the idea of saying nothing at all and walking away from him is far more devastating to imagine.

  “Let’s eat dinner. Later, I’ll take you for some ice cream.”

  I lean away to stare at him in surprise. “You’re taking me for ice cream later?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” A shadow of uncertainty flickers across his face. “Only if you feel like it. There’s a place downtown that uses almond milk to make it, and you can’t e
ven tell the difference.”

  He drops a soft kiss to my lips. Close-mouthed and quick, it shouldn’t make me weak in the knees or swoony or even make my heart skip a beat, but there’s no denying it does. “I know the owner and asked if we could stop in right after they close up tonight.”

  The tender way he looks at me has me tightening my own hold on him, both my arms wrapped around his broad torso.

  “Fernandina shuts down earlier durin’ the workweek, so there’ll hardly be anyone out and about.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “Yeah?” A small but no less devastating smile stretches his lips.

  “Yeah.” I match his smile with my own.

  With blue eyes sparkling with what I hope isn’t only amusement but affection too, he says, “Then eat your dinner, young lady.”

  “This is so good.” I practically moan the words as I eat another spoonful of the mint chocolate chip ice cream in my small cup.

  “Told ya.” Creases at the edges of Kane’s eyes form. Happy creases. I love the way the man’s eyes smile in their own way. Something about it causes a flurry of butterflies to take up residence in my stomach.

  It’s after nine o’clock in the small downtown area of Fernandina Beach, and my verdict is in: this place is adorably quaint. Much like something I’d see on a postcard with the tall antique-like streetlights lining the sidewalks.

  Kane had led me to a bench along the marina overlooking the intracoastal waterway, and there’s hardly anyone in sight. A breeze off the water is more than welcoming, making the humidity much more bearable. A few people out for a leisurely walk or those power-walking to get in their daily workout pass by but pay us no mind aside from a friendly nod or a quick hello.

  I have a newsboy cabbie hat tugged down low with a pair of sunglasses since the glare from the setting sun is still intense. No one has paid me any attention, and the anonymity is nice. It’s allowed me to relax more than I have in far too long in public.

  Jed and Vance agreed to hang back a few blocks on one of the benches after Kane assured them we wouldn’t be amidst hordes of people, but they insisted they’d be ready if a situation arose and we needed them.

  Kane, now finished with his own ice cream, has an arm draped along the back of the bench, fingers barely grazing my upper arm. Tingles from the simple contact spread through me like wildfire. The gesture, so simple in nature, somehow makes me feel protected. Cherished, even. Like that possessive arm behind me and those fingertips that occasionally sweep over my sensitive skin are making a statement that I’m his.

  I turn my attention from the gorgeous water, reflecting the beginning of the sunset along its smooth, calm surface, to gaze at the man beside me. A faint sprinkling of blond scruff grows along his chiseled jaw, and his features are more relaxed compared to when we’re on tour even though I know he’s still alert and surveying our surroundings to ensure my safety. Those blue eyes are masked with dark sunglasses, and his plain white T-shirt stretches around his biceps and encases his muscled chest. Board shorts and flip-flops finish off his outfit.

  Seeing him in such casual attire—what I assume is what he wears on weekends or evenings chilling at home—does something dangerous to my heart.

  A yearning flourishes within me because I can easily imagine hanging out here with Kane when I have downtime. I could fly here, and we could cook dinner together, discuss our days, and then fall asleep in each other’s arms at night. There’d be lots of hot sex and making out, of course, because I don’t see myself ever getting enough of his kisses. Then, on the weekends we spent together, I’d make us French toast.

  Amidst all that, one thing would be certain: I’d finally be with someone who doesn’t give a shit about the crap that goes along with my career. With my life.

  A gusty exhale spills free before I realize it, and Kane turns my way. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

  “Nope.” My answer is succinct, and I shove the last spoonful of ice cream in my mouth as I turn back to face the water.

  His voice is deep, husky, and threaded with a hint of affection. “Mmm. Reckon you should know it’s not good to tell lies.”

  “Just thinking about this place. About you.” I shrug. “That’s it.”

  He leans in closer, bringing his lips to hover near my ear. His warm breath hits the shell and chill bumps break out along my skin. “You like this place?” he murmurs.

  “It’s beautiful here. Peaceful.”

  “It’s more beautiful with you here.”

  A laugh breaks free, and I nudge him with my shoulder. “Stop laying it on so thick.”

  A large hand crosses my vision, startling me, before it cups my face and turns my head in his direction. Those soft lips I’ve come to know so well are relaxed and slightly upturned as if he’s amused. “Just tellin’ it like it is, ma’am.”

  “Don’t you ma’am me,” I tease.

  “You like it when I ma’am you. Admit it.”

  I attempt to stifle a grin. “I admit nothing.”

  “Maybe this’ll change your mind.”

  Hand still cupping one side of my face, he nudges the brim of my hat up to make room for him before his lips capture mine. The kiss is different somehow, although I can’t quite put my finger on it. It just…feels like more. It’s softer, more tender, as his lips brush delicately over mine.

  Lost to the onslaught of sensations, I part my lips, and he angles his head, deepening the kiss. At the first touch of his tongue tangling with mine, heat surges to my core, causing my panties to dampen and nipples to harden. God, the man’s kisses are like the most addictive drug. One hit and I’m done in, needy and jonesing for more.

  When a sudden gust of wind nearly dislodges the plastic cup and spoon from my hold, Kane draws back, and I whimper in protest at the loss of his lips.

  He takes the items from me before rising and offering me his other hand. And it dawns on me at this moment, with utter pathetic realization, that the only other man who’s ever offered me his hand to help me stand has been my best friend.

  Well, I don’t necessarily count my security team since they’re basically paid to help me. And, yes, Kane’s currently my employee, but right now, in this capacity, he’s just Kane. The man who brings me home with him, lets me meet his friends, and cooks for me. The man who brought me into his home like a…well, like a girlfriend.

  Out of all the men from my past, boyfriends and fiancés combined, no one has ever acted in a true gentlemanly fashion. It’s always been about them. They came first in everything, and I was left with the scraps. Even worse, I accepted it. No, that’s not entirely accurate. After allowing it for so long, it eventually became something I expected.

  God, I’m such a moron when it comes to matters of the heart and relationships that it’s just flat-out humiliating.

  “Hey.” Kane’s husky voice has my eyes snapping up, drawing me from my inner self-recriminations. Concern etches his face. “No frownin', Princess.”

  Mentally shoving aside my thoughts, I hurriedly right my hat before accepting his hand and shoot to my feet. “Sorry. Just…” I scramble before opting to keep it simple yet honest. “Just lost in thought.” I don’t need to go into detail and bore the man to tears with my story of woe.

  A scowl mars his handsome face before he turns abruptly and tosses the trash in a nearby bin. I slide my sunglasses up to rest on the brim of my hat now that the sun has mostly set. When Kane turns to face me, he follows suit, sliding his own to perch on top of his head, scowl still firmly in place.

  “Fact or fiction.” He eyes me hard.

  I frown, squinting in confusion. “What?”

  “You said you were just lost in thought.” His gaze clashes with mine, the demands nearly tangible in the depths as they try to reach out and pull the truth from me. “Fact or fiction?”

  “It’s fact,” I answer carefully.

  After a beat of silence, he challenges, “Good thoughts or bad?” My lips part before closing, and his eyes na
rrow. “Tell me.” He softens his tone, tacking on, “Please.”

  I shift my attention to the gently lapping water a few yards away. “A little of both, I suppose.”

  When he doesn’t respond, I assume I’m off the hook. Surprise ricochets through me when callused fingers tangle with mine. I can’t help but stare at him because, as inconsequential as it might be to others, this is the first time Kane’s ever held my hand like this.

  Perhaps it’s juvenile, but holding hands with this man—even more than that, having him initiate it—wreaks havoc on my heart, sending it into overdrive and practically vaulting it from my chest to land at his feet.

  He studies the now dark water, but as soon as he speaks, his fingers tighten on mine. “What’s the bad?”

  I wrinkle my nose and look away. “No one wants to know about that.”

  “I do.”

  I heave out a sigh, mentally bracing myself for him to start sprinting from me, eager to get away. “When you offered me your hand after you stood, I just…realized no one else has ever done that. Except for Matty and my security team.”

  My entire body stiffens, and if I could grow a shell like a turtle, this would be the moment it would happen. I’d grow the thickest, hardest one and instantly curl up inside it and hide until I felt it was safe to emerge.

  Finally, his gruff voice says, “And the good?”

  I draw in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “That you were the first man I’ve, uh”—I hesitate, unsure of how to label us—“been with who’s been a gentleman.”

  “Huh.” That’s it. That’s all the response he offers.

  Eager to change the subject, I hurriedly start with, “Well, it’s getting late so—”

  “You’ve been with a bunch of goddamn asshats.” The words are ground out, his jaw tight, as if he’s clenching his teeth. Eyes still trained on the intracoastal, he glares at the water as if it’s solely responsible for all the tragedies of the world. “Goddamn asshats,” he repeats. In case I didn’t hear him the first time, apparently.