by Darcy Burke
“Uh-huh.”
With a loud exhalation, she got up and took her empty paper tray to the garbage. He leapt up and followed her as she started toward the car.
“He was controlling. Things got . . . weird.”
He snagged her elbow and drew her to a stop. A primitive urge to find this asshole and beat him to within an inch of his life pulsed through him. “What do you mean?”
“He demanded too much of my time, wanted to decide who our friends were, where we would work—together.” She shook him off and walked quickly back to the car.
Kyle rushed to open her door, waited until she was situated, then closed it and went to his side. He started the car and pulled into traffic. “That’s it? You’re going to leave me hanging?”
“There’s not much more to tell. I didn’t think we were doing specifics here.” Her tone had gone cool.
“Hey, you started this, Nosey Parker.”
She threw him a quizzical look. “What’s a Nosey Parker?”
“You!” He laughed. “Okay, look, we’ve clearly entered a new stage of our relationship here. We’re friends, I guess. Friends get to know each other, and that’s what we’re doing. I’ll be here for you when you want to talk about Assclown.”
She chuckled. “Good name for him.”
For some reason he thought about the night he’d been waiting for her outside of her office. “I get one more question. That night that I scared you, had that happened to you before?” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. If she said yes, he really might hunt this bastard down.
She was quiet a long time. Too long. “Yes. He . . . stalked me. But I got a restraining order, and I haven’t heard from him in well over a year.”
Oh yeah, if he ever saw that guy, he was totally punching him in the face. “What’s his name?”
She shook her head. “Uh-uh. Two questions. And it’s in the past. There’s no need for you to go all Gladiator on him for me.”
“I completely disagree, but I won’t debate you.” Time to get back to the easier conversation they’d enjoyed earlier. He needed to lighten things up if he was going to snag another kiss when he took her home. “Gladiator? Why Gladiator?”
She rolled her gorgeous brown eyes. “Because it’s an awesome movie, duh. Russell Crowe kicks major ass.”
“You’re comparing me to Russell Crowe in Gladiator. Damn, that’s about the best compliment I’ve had all week.”
She punched him in the arm, reminding him sweetly of his sister Sara. “All week? You’re pretty full of yourself, you know that?”
“Look at me, baby; wouldn’t you be too?”
Her peals of laughter filled the car, and their conversation for the next hour centered around movie star comparisons and the benefits of a healthy ego.
When he pulled into her driveway, he was sorry to see their date come to an end. Date? Yeah, that had felt like a date.
This time when he got out of the car, she waited for him to open her door. He took her hand and helped her out, awareness tingling along every one of his nerve endings. Disappointingly, she withdrew her hand as he walked her to her front door.
She turned and looked up at him—the distance between them not very great since she was a good five foot eight. “Thanks for a fun afternoon. I’m sorry it didn’t quite turn out the way you wanted it to, but I’m hopeful you’ll find something in Alex’s laptop.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He edged closer, inhaling her floral, citrusy scent. “I’m pretty happy with the way today turned out. And today’s not technically over.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I . . . uh, I have plans tonight.”
“Do you?” He moved even closer, and she backed against the door.
“Yes.” She pursed her lips.
“When you do that, I just want to kiss you, and it looks as though your mouth wants me to, too. Does it?”
She blinked up at him. Her tongue darted out and glossed her lower lip.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured before claiming her mouth. He laid his palms flat against her door as he leaned in and angled his head to deepen the kiss.
Her mouth opened beneath his. He drove his tongue inside, sweeping against her moist heat. She tasted like sun and summer and everything he loved about life. Delicious.
Her hands came up and grasped the front of his T-shirt, holding him fast and steady while she rose up to meet him. It wasn’t enough; he wanted to feel her flush against him, breast to chest, hip to thigh, groin to pelvis, like in the parking lot earlier. God, that had been amazing. He’d wanted her right then and there, public indecency be damned. And now here he was contemplating picking her up and spreading her thighs . . .
He pulled his head up. “Let’s go inside,” he rasped.
“No.” She pushed him away—gently, but still away from her.
He frowned down at her. “What’s the matter? You were totally into that.” Yikes, if he wasn’t careful, he might venture into ex-boyfriend assclown territory. “I mean, am I reading this wrong?”
She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, there was a certainty in her gaze. “You’re not, but I’m not ready to invite you in.”
He brushed her hair back from her face, his fingertips lingering on a soft, springy curl. “I’m not a vampire. It’s not like I’ll take advantage if you do.”
She smiled. “I know. Just not today.”
He exhaled, disappointed but hopeful since she hadn’t said never. “Fair enough.” He dipped his head and caught her lips once more. The kiss was brief but hot, and when he drew back, he tugged her bottom lip with his teeth and then grinned. “Next time, Maggie.”
Pivoting, he walked back to Hayden’s car, whistling. He knew when he turned around, she’d still be outside her door watching him. He wasn’t wrong. She waved as he backed out.
No, today hadn’t worked out the way he’d imagined at all. It had turned out far better.
KYLE SIPPED HIS iced coffee, tapped his foot to the song on Pandora, and smiled to himself as he looked over the final plans for the Ribbon Ridge Festival booth. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been in such a good mood. Yesterday had been amazing, despite the dead end with Shane. After leaving Maggie’s, he’d spent the evening scouring Alex’s computer, and this morning, he’d scheduled an appointment with a computer forensics specialist for early next week.
Things were good. Now if he could only figure out a way to take Maggie to the Ribbon Ridge Festival. Maybe he could pass her off as someone other than Alex’s therapist. No one else in the family had met her, as far as he knew. Perhaps he ought to verify that.
But would she come? She seemed to avoid Ribbon Ridge like the plague.
A knock on his door interrupted his groove. He paused the music. “Come in.”
Dad stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Got a minute?”
They hadn’t spoken much since their confrontation the other day. And when they had, they’d steered clear of personal topics, sticking only to work issues.
Kyle sat back in his chair. “Sure, what’s up?”
Dad looked at one of the chairs but didn’t take it. Instead, he walked over to the windows and looked out at the rolling hills. Kyle turned and watched him warily.
“I hope you won’t fly off the handle,” Dad started, almost making Kyle laugh, as Dad’s temper since Alex’s death was the shortest Kyle could ever remember, “but we need to talk about your problem.”
“My ‘problem.’ ” How condescending. “My gambling addiction, you mean? Let’s just call it what it is, okay?”
Dad turned to look at him, his gray eyes piercing. “Yes, let’s. Did you get help in Florida?”
Christ, had he and Maggie compared notes since yesterday? Her questions had made him uncomfortable, but Dad’s query positively rankled. “I managed things just fine.”
“How were things when you left to come home? I know Mom paid for your plane ticket . . .”
W
hich means you must’ve been broke.
Gooseflesh broke out on the back of Kyle’s neck. “She offered.” That was true, but so was the broke part. He did not want Dad to know that. His disappointment was already so palpable and so disheartening.
“I’m sure she did.” Dad was quiet a moment, as if he were carefully choosing his words. He probably was. “I noticed you brought nothing home with you, save clothing. You were gone nearly four years. What were you doing? What do you have to show for it?”
Kyle stared at him. What could he say? “I’m not gambling now, Dad.”
“But you were.” Dad cut his hand through the air. “Goddamn it, Kyle. I won’t bail you out again.”
Kyle clutched the arm of his chair, fighting the urge to run, to escape his father’s censure. “I haven’t asked you to. In fact, I’ve never asked you to.”
Dad’s brows angled over his ice-gray eyes. “You would’ve let those men break your legs or whatever they’d threatened to do before asking for help. Your pride is that important to you?”
“Your approval and respect are.”
Dad’s eyes widened. “This isn’t about that.”
“Isn’t it?” Kyle gritted his teeth, hating how weak and desperate he felt. How the realization that he would never be good enough in his father’s eyes cut into his very soul. “Do you approve of the choices I made? Do you respect them?”
Dad looked out the window again, and Kyle’s chest tightened. “You’re my son, and I love you.” He turned back to Kyle. “This isn’t about respect. This is about honesty and trust and accountability.”
A part of Kyle wanted to tell him everything. How devastated he’d been after Alex’s death. How he’d gone back to Florida thinking he’d feel better far away, since that had seemed to work before. But he hadn’t. He’d felt even worse being away from everyone and anyone who had known Alex. So he’d gambled. Just a bit at first, but for someone like him, it never stayed small. He’d been on a roll. At one point, he’d won enough money that he could’ve opened a restaurant, but he hadn’t stopped. The pain had receded, and he was the king of the world. Then he’d started losing. And soon he was in that spiral where the next bet was going to turn it around. Only it never did. Until the losses had piled up and obliterated his bank account. He’d sold everything he owned to pay it all off so that when he came back home, he wouldn’t be absolutely flat broke. Close, but not quite.
But the words stuttered in his throat and died before they could reach his tongue. Instead, he said, “I’m trying really hard to be accountable, to contribute, to earn your respect. Can you let me do that? Will you give me that chance?”
“I’m trying to.”
Kyle considered saying something about Dad’s apparent inability to grieve the loss of Alex. He couldn’t help but wonder if Dad was focusing even more on Kyle’s shortcomings in an effort to ignore his own pain. But in the end, he couldn’t do it. He just wasn’t ready to open wounds, or maybe he just didn’t want to give Dad another reason to find fault with him.
Dad came forward and clapped him on the knee. “All right then, what’s going on for tomorrow? Everything all set for the booth?” He moved around to the front of the desk.
Kyle swung his chair back and looked down at the plan they’d laid out, pushing the bitter conversation to the back of his mind. “Yep. We’ve got everything ready. The booth is going up at eight tomorrow morning. I’ll be there overseeing it. We’ve got all the beer, snacks, merchandise, and the staffing schedule is complete.”
“You’ll be there tomorrow evening too? I know you haven’t gone in years, but typically the whole family’s there—well, whoever’s here.” He looked a little unsettled.
“Are you thinking about Mom?” Kyle didn’t know if things were still tense between them.
Dad nodded. “And Hayden. It’s very strange not having him here. And that’s no dig against you.”
“None taken. I know Sara and Dylan will be there.”
“Right, and Tori. I wish Evan and Liam were coming. Liam usually does, but not this year.”
Liam had been a real prick since Alex had died. He’d refused any involvement in the renovation project whatsoever. Granted, Kyle had done the same at the beginning, but partly because Liam had been such a jerk about presuming that Kyle had no life in Florida and could simply drop everything and move home to work on the project. It turned out that Kyle’s anger had come from the fact that Liam had been right. Which still made Liam an asshole.
“Of course Derek and Chloe too,” Dad said.
Of course.
Kyle could handle that. He liked Chloe, not that they’d spent much time getting to know each other considering he and Derek could barely stand being in the same room together. Tomorrow could be awkward since it would be a more social setting than the office, but with so many people around to act as buffers, especially Sara, Kyle shelved his apprehension to the back of his mind.
With a nod, Dad left.
Kyle thought again about bringing Maggie, but the prospect of Dad finding out that he was dating—dating?—the therapist who’d failed to see suicidal signs in Alex’s behavior was enough to prevent him from actually inviting her. Crap, what was he doing with her anyway? What sort of future could they have given who she was and how much his family would despise him for being with her? If he was trying to earn respect and approval, getting into a relationship with Maggie Trent was the last thing he should do.
Why was he even thinking about this? He wasn’t a relationship guy. Twenty-eight years old and not one long relationship. Maybe he was also addicted to being alone.
And just like that, his good mood went right down the toilet.
Chapter Seven
WITH A FINAL snip, Maggie concluded her rose bush trimming. The rental house had a nice little rose garden with five plants in the backyard, but they’d been woefully ignored. Instead of coming right in and whacking them to bits, she’d carefully trimmed over the past several weeks to coax new growth and encourage blooms. That and some fertilizer had already transformed them from sad, spindly shrubs to glowing, happy bushes.
With this success, a bit of her anxiety faded. It had been a rough afternoon with Ryan—her toughest patient at present. After last Saturday’s emergency appointment, today had been his regular session, and it had run long since the one after had canceled. They’d been alone in the clinic by the time they’d finished, and she was surprised to find it had made her a little uncomfortable. She wasn’t afraid of Ryan—the poor man was an emotional mess—but there was something about him that reminded her of Mark. His neediness, maybe?
She shook her head, stowing her clippers in the pocket of her apron and picking up the basket of rose clippings. She was a therapist, for crying out loud. Dealing with needy people was part of the job. A huge part of it. Plus, it had never bothered her before, so why now? Because Alex’s death had made her doubt her abilities.
Walking to the large debris bin she’d wheeled from the front, she dumped the clippings and moved on to her next project: the vegetable garden.
She’d gotten a late start since she hadn’t moved into the house until the first of June, but the tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash were coming along nicely. And the lettuce bed was already ripe for harvest and would continue to be for some time. She smiled at her happy little plants before turning to get the hose.
The hose bib was at the corner of the house, near the path from the front. As she bent to pick up the hose, a shadow darkened the path, but it wasn’t the outline of a shrub or tree from the setting sun. It was a person. Holding the spray nozzle like a gun, her heart picked up speed.
“Maggie?”
Kyle’s voice immediately calmed the sudden wild pounding of her pulse, but she decided to spray him as he rounded the corner. He sucked in air as his T-shirt became plastered to his chest.
Whoa, that had been a bad idea; now his abs were perfectly delineated beneath the wet cotton. And she’d been right—totally cut.
> “Kyle, you scared me again. Knock it off!”
He plucked at his shirt. “Good thing it’s still warm out.” Summer nights in northwestern Oregon ranged from hot to chilly, but at this point in July, hot often won out.
“Sorry.” She actually wasn’t. He’d deserved it, and now she got to enjoy the view. Averting her gaze before she full-on stared, she put the fertilizer canister onto the end of the hose. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi there, nice to see you, too. I had a terrific day, how about you?”
She suppressed a smile at his teasing tone—it wouldn’t do to encourage him. “Did you find something on Alex’s computer?”
“Not yet, but I have an appointment with a computer forensics specialist on Monday.” He trailed her as she went to the vegetable garden to water the plants. “Do we have to use the drug investigation as the only reason to talk? I thought we were friends.”
She glanced at him, wondering what he was up to tonight. Yesterday had been amazing—the conversation, the revelations, the kisses. She hadn’t been that amped up in a very long time. It had felt good. So why not let it continue? Because he was Kyle freaking Archer, that’s why.
“We are friends, but friends don’t usually drop by unannounced.” She started spraying the veggies.
“I did text, but it looks like you were maybe busy out here. You have a real talent in the garden. Those tomato plants are going to be amazing. I’ll have to make you some of my salsa.”
Now she wished she’d planted peppers. Damn. “Promise?”
He nodded, grinning. “Is that an heirloom plant?”
“Yes, those are my favorites.”
“Mine, too. I make a mean heirloom tomato salad. Guess I’m going to be feeding you all summer. How’s the kitchen in there?” He nodded toward the house.
“Fine.” She barely knew. Cooking was not her thing, unless you counted heating frozen meals or ordering takeout. About the only thing she made was salad, hence the vegetable garden she’d planted. “It’s a little outdated, but it has all the essentials.” Not that she planned on showing him anytime soon. Or ever.
“Can I go check it out?”
