When You Got a Good Thing

by Kait Nolan

  He threaded his fingers in her hair and gently massaged her scalp. It was an old, comforting gesture, something he’d done a hundred times before that never failed to release the tension. Another few minutes, and she’d fall asleep on her feet.

  “You’re going to put me to sleep,” she murmured.

  “I can carry you up.”

  As appealing as that idea was, the last thing she needed was Xander anywhere near her bed. Or, worse, to run into any of her sisters, who’d assume she left last night for a booty call with her ex. Since that was definitely not happening, she needed to haul her own ass upstairs. Alone.

  Intent on stepping back, Kennedy lifted her head. Whatever she’d been about to say spilled out of her head as she met his eyes. Steady and warm, they bored into hers, seeing far more than she wanted. But he’d always seen her. Hadn’t that been part of his appeal?

  “Xander.” She didn’t know if it was a warning or a plea. But she didn’t move. Not when he shifted his hold from a hug to an embrace. Not when he tipped her face up to his. When his lips brushed hers, she sighed and melted into him.

  He tasted like home. Like sweet tea and apple stack cake and picnics on the mountain. Like every good thing she’d denied herself for what felt like a lifetime. The slow, coaxing kiss took her back to long, lazy summer days, and—when he traced her lips with his tongue—even hotter summer nights. He swept her back to a far simpler time, when their whole lives had stretched out before them and nothing else mattered but being together.

  Rising to her toes, Kennedy slid her hands into his hair, angling her mouth to take the kiss deeper as sweetness gave way to a deep, vicious need. But he didn’t bow to her demand. After one quick nip, Xander eased her back from the edge, showing a ruthless patience he hadn’t had at eighteen. She whimpered in protest, too far gone for sense or reason.

  His voice was rough when he spoke. “Lark.”

  Her old nickname was another link to the past, part of a history too long denied.

  “I know you’ve got a lot to deal with coming back. Repairing things with your sisters. Sorting things with Ari. But promise me you’ll think about this, too.”

  With her body flushed and her lips still tingling from his, she’d have promised him anything. She managed some vague noise of assent.

  Apparently satisfied with that, Xander nodded. With one last stroke of her hair, he stepped back. When she didn’t move, he reached past her to open the front door and nudged her inside. “Good night,” he said, and shut the door behind her.

  ~*~

  If Xander’s brain hadn’t been completely scrambled, he might’ve remembered to get his coat back from Kennedy before he’d shoved her into the house. But it had taken every last shred of control he possessed to actually let her go instead of dragging her upstairs or to the barn or into the back of his Bronco or pretty much the nearest horizontal surface, so his coat—and the work keys in its pocket—were still with her. Which was his only excuse for showing back up at the Reynolds house an hour later, after a hurried shower and change of clothes. Well, and he already wanted to see her again.

  It had felt like they were finally on the same page when he left her. But that might’ve been the kiss. Before she’d come back to the Ridge, he’d told himself it would be enough to apologize and be forgiven. But holding her in his arms again, knowing she was staying, just cemented what he hadn’t been willing to admit to himself for years—he wanted another chance.

  He was going to have be careful with her. Chemistry and old habits aside, he still needed to win back her trust. He’d given some thought to that on the way home. Kennedy was as fragile as he’d ever seen her. She’d just lost her mother, and things were an absolute mess with her sisters. He wasn’t the kind of man to take advantage of that vulnerability. But he could make himself a fixture in her life again, remind her of how good they were together, and—in doing so—give her some much needed support so she didn’t feel like it was just her against the world.

  Xander gave fleeting thought to trying his own luck with the old bodock tree and knocking on her window like the old days. After being up all night, she’d probably gone straight to bed. But doing so under the cover of darkness was one thing. Doing it in broad daylight, when any of her sisters could look out a window or go out to the barn for something was much harder to explain. So he gave a perfunctory knock instead and hoped for the best. He fought the urge to shift from foot to foot as he sifted through excuses.

  Athena tugged open the door. One brow winged up. “Can I help you, Deputy?”

  “Came for coffee.”

  There went the other brow. “Do we look like a Starbucks?”

  “Wanted to check on everybody, too.”

  She pursed her lips in an I’m not buying your shit expression but stepped back and let him inside. “There’s a fresh pot on.”

  Xander trailed her into the kitchen.

  “You’re a little late. Our missing person finally turned back up.”

  “Your what?” At the stove, Kennedy’s confused gaze shot from Athena back to him. The spatula in her hand clattered into the skillet. “Xander.” Color leapt into her cheeks.

  “Kennedy.”

  Something electric snapped between them and held. Xander shoved his hands into his pockets because he wanted to spin her around and pick right back up where they’d left off. At the table, Maggie looked from him to her sister and back, clearly trying to decide whether something needed to be said.

  “Was she missing?” Xander asked.

  “We weren’t sure. She left in something of a hurry last night, and we didn’t know if she’d come back,” Maggie said.

  Kennedy bristled, snatching the spatula back up. “I promised I would.”

  “You were upset and not thinking clearly. We were worried.”

  “You were worried,” Athena retorted. “I just figured she’d bolt again.”

  A muscle jumped in Kennedy’s jaw, but she said nothing, just turned back to the stove.

  Pru wandered in. “I thought I saw your cruiser out there. Good morning, Xander.” She slid an arm around him in an easy hug.

  “Morning.”

  She eased back and gave him a long study. The back of his neck prickled. It was an I know what you’ve been up to look. He knew it well enough from his own mother and hadn’t thought he’d run into it here.

  Athena gestured toward the counter. “You wanted coffee. There it is.”

  Needing to do something, he went straight to the cabinet and pulled out a mug. Kennedy was now pointedly not staring at him, focused instead on whatever it was she was messing with on the stove.

  “I don’t know why you’re cooking. We have enough casseroles to last us for days,” Athena said.

  “Because I wanted something different,” Kennedy retorted, sliding the skillet under the broiler.

  She sounded brittle and angry. So did Athena, but that was her default state. Xander felt sure that last night’s fight had originated with her. Still, tension stretched between all the sisters. He could feel it as he poured his coffee, see it in the hands Pru knotted together and the frown bowing Maggie’s lips.

  He laid a hand against Kennedy’s lower back. “You okay?” he murmured.

  She went still, curling her fingers around the edge of the counter. Because his hand was still on her, he felt the slow, controlled exhale. “Fine.” The word was so low, no one else was likely to have heard.

  Xander eased a little closer. “You still can’t lie worth a damn.”

  Kennedy frowned at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “My work keys are in my coat pocket.”

  Confusion flickered over her face for a moment before she realized what he meant. She nodded, though whether that was acceptance or some variation of I’ll take care of it, Xander wasn’t sure. She clearly didn’t want to announce to the family that she’d been with him last night, so he kept his mouth shut as she nudged him out of the way and pulled the skillet back out of the ove
n. With careful, practiced moves, she placed a plate over the skillet and inverted it. All Xander could tell was that there were eggs involved and it smelled amazing. Maybe it was some kind of fancy oven omelet?

  “What is that?”

  “Tortilla Española.”

  He eyed the thick, steaming egg-thing. “That doesn’t look like any kind of tortilla I’ve ever seen.”

  “Not that kind of tortilla. That’s Mexican. This is a Spanish potato tortilla—more like a frittata—for Ari. Her grandmother emigrated from Seville, and I thought it might be something she’d have made Ari as comfort food.”

  “Every weekend.” The quiet voice came from the doorway, and they all turned.

  Ari crossed into the kitchen, her sock feet soundless on the wood floor as she came to inspect Kennedy’s work. She leaned over and inhaled the fragrant steam, her dark eyes closing. “It smells like hers.”

  Kennedy fidgeted with a pot holder. “I thought, maybe, it might appeal more than all this other stuff.”

  Ari straightened and threw herself at Kennedy. Kennedy staggered back one step before she caught herself and wrapped both arms tight around the girl.

  “Gracias.” The word came out muffled against Kennedy’s shoulder.

  “De nada, hermanita.”

  Ari spilled out more rapid fire Spanish in a quiet voice, and Kennedy answered in kind. Xander had no idea what she said, except that it had the tone of promises.

  Finally, stroking a hand down the girl’s hair, Kennedy leaned back. “Will you eat?”

  Ari nodded and reached into the cabinet for a plate. She cut herself a massive slab of the tortilla and took it to the table under the shocked gazes of the other Reynolds women. Kennedy’s mouth curved in a satisfied smile.

  Grabbing more plates, she looked over at him. “Well, you’re here. You might as well have some breakfast.”

  While the rest of them filled their plates with breakfast casserole and pastries from all the food brought by the mourners—by tacit agreement, they left most of the tortilla for Ari—Kennedy excused herself. He heard footsteps on the stairs and figured she was going to retrieve his coat. From long habit, he took his breakfast to the table and sat. He’d eaten meals at this table more than a hundred times over the years. The faces had often changed, but it had always felt like a big, extended family. Now, without Joan to referee, it just felt wrong.

  Maggie studied him over her coffee cup. “Xander, what are you doing?”

  Being purposely obtuse, he dug into the food. “In the time-honored tradition of bachelors everywhere, I’m mooching breakfast.”

  “My bull—” Athena glanced at Ari. “—pucky meter is pinging,”

  The teenager rolled her eyes. “I’m thirteen. I’ve heard swearing before.”

  “That’s still no reason for us to use it around the table,” Pru said easily.

  They all looked at him expectantly. Ignoring the adults, he leaned over and aimed his fork toward Ari’s tortilla.

  She narrowed her eyes and brandished her knife. “Don’t make me cut you.”

  Xander chuckled.

  Kennedy came back in the room, her arms full of stuff. “Maybe let’s avoid bloodshed at the dinner table. I brought down your shoes and backpack. We’ll leave when you finish your breakfast.” She set everything down, and Xander watched as she surreptitiously draped his coat over the seat of a barstool.

  Well done, Lark.

  She poured herself a cup of coffee and slid into the chair beside him.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Pru asked.

  “I’ll get something later.”

  Xander couldn’t blame her. The tension in the room was probably enough to sour her stomach. In the awkward silence, he worked his way through his own breakfast and was considering seconds when Maggie rose and took her plate to the sink.

  “We have a lot of work to get done today. Athena and I both need to be getting back in a few days, so whatever decisions need to be made for the short-term have to happen now.”

  That was obviously his cue to leave. He tried to think of something to say, some excuse to stick around. But he had his own work that he couldn’t put off any longer. He slid out of his chair and laid a hand on Kennedy’s shoulder, waiting until she lifted her gaze to his.

  “Thanks for breakfast. If you need help with anything—whenever, wherever—just let me know.”

  She stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding. “Don’t forget your coat.”

  “Right.” He scooped it up from the barstool.

  “You didn’t have a coat when you got here,” Athena put in.

  Shit.

  Everybody looked from him to Kennedy, who was staring at her coffee as if it held the secrets of the universe.

  “Are you kidding me?” Athena asked. “She didn’t do enough of a number on you ten years ago?”

  Kennedy’s knuckles went white around the mug, and Xander was simply done.

  “You need to back off.” He didn’t raise his voice, but he used the same no nonsense tone he usually reserved for belligerent drunks at the tavern.

  Athena wasn’t cowed in the least. “Still playing white knight after everything she did.” She shook her head. “Your funeral.”

  Xander opened his mouth to pop off, but Kennedy spoke first.

  “For the love of God, both of you stop it. I’m too tired for all of this.” She fixed her gaze on Athena. “I realize you’re upset with me, and that’s fine. It’s your right. I’ve apologized. If you choose not to accept that, that’s on you. But I’m not letting you provoke me, or anyone else, into a fight. We have too many more important things to worry about.” She shoved to her feet. “Ari, it’s time for us to leave for school. Xander, I’ll walk you out.”

  Kennedy stalked out of the room and didn’t stop until they hit the front porch.

  Xander felt like he needed to apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think to get the coat back when dropped you off, and I had to have my keys.”

  Crossing her arms, she looked past him at the door, obviously waiting for Ari. “I don’t care about that. But why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  She waved her hand in the general direction of the kitchen. “That. Whatever that was.”

  The lack of sleep was obviously messing with her.

  “You’re going to have to be more specific, Lark.”

  Kennedy pinched the bridge of her nose. “We aren’t eighteen anymore, Xander. I’m not yours to protect. So why are you riding in here like I am?”

  He didn’t touch her, though he desperately wanted to. “Because you need it.”

  Those big green eyes went suspiciously glassy at that.

  “All that—” Xander waved his own hand. “—is a damned mess. I just want you to know that you don’t stand alone here.”

  Whatever she would’ve said to that got cut off by Ari bursting out of the house. Time to vacate before he mucked this up any worse. “Have a good day at school, kiddo. Kennedy, I’ll see you around.”

  Xander gave them both a wave and headed for his cruiser.

  Chapter Seven

  KENNEDY GOT BACK TO the house braced for a fight. She’d meant what she said. With everything on their plates, letting herself be provoked was a waste of precious energy and detrimental to Ari. But she didn’t actually expect any of them to let it drop. Why would they? It had been open season on her since she got back Stateside, and Athena in particular seemed determined to get in every verbal jab she could—maybe because Maggie was far too controlled for something like that.

  Her sisters were still in the kitchen, in the process of doing the dishes and clearing away the leftovers.

  From her position at the sink Athena smirked. “Back a week and already starting things back up with the ex you left high and dry. Ballsy.”

  “I’m not starting anything back up with Xander. He gave me a ride. That’s all.”

  “Clearly not the good kind. You don’t look anywher
e near relaxed enough for that.”

  Okay, that was it. Kennedy was about to drag her sister into the kind of rip-roaring, hair-pulling fight she hadn’t had since she was thirteen.

  “Athena, that’s enough.” Maggie’s voice was sharp. “You’ve taken your potshots and now you’re done. Kennedy’s right. We have more important things to worry about. The status of her relationship with Xander is not one of them.”

  It didn’t exactly qualify as support, but Kennedy would take it.

  Athena scowled and plunged her hands into the soapy water.

  Apparently in go mode, Maggie continued. “Now, since Athena and I only have a few days left, we need to make the most of them. There’s no reason to think there’s any problem keeping the house, but we should go through the whole thing, top to bottom. We’re not finished with that list of items Mom bequeathed to folks, and we need to give the whole thing a good cleaning and general going over, inspecting for any problems or necessary repairs. It’s a big house and it’s old, so we need to be thorough and head off any issues before they turn into actual problems.”

  She’d made a list for each of them. Of course she had. Maggie was used to running the world, so organizing and delegating was par for the course. As soon as she’d finished giving orders, Kennedy pushed back from the table. She wanted some time alone to think and clearing out the third floor bedrooms was just the place to get it.

  The third floor had originally been an attic, loosely divided into servants’ quarters for the brief period when the lumber baron who’d built the place could afford them. Later generations had used it for storage, but Joan had turned them back into bedrooms when she’d exceeded the capacity of the six bedrooms on the second floor. Because there were always more children who needed a safe place to stay.

  Kennedy flipped on the light in the first room. Judging by the layer of dust up here, nobody had been in residence for quite some time. Moving from room to room, she turned on lights and opened windows to let in the chilly morning air. After stripping all the beds and starting a load of linens in the washer, she hauled cleaning supplies from downstairs and began the process of dusting, scrubbing, and polishing.