About That Kiss: A Heartbreaker Bay Novel

by Jill Shalvis

  “Where’s Molly?” his dad asked. “Thought she was coming tonight.”

  “She’ll be by tomorrow. Said to tell you she’ll bring you pizza if you want.”

  “Yeah, I want. She’s nicer than you. She brings me cigars, too.”

  Joe stopped stirring the meat and stared at his dad. “She’s not supposed to be doing that.”

  His dad patted his wheelchair side pocket smugly.

  Joe shook his head but didn’t get dragged into a fight. He knew damn well there were no matches or lighters anywhere in the house. He and Molly had PTSD-proofed the house years ago and they kept a clean ship. So his dad could hold on to those cigars all he wanted if they made him feel better. And seeing him defiant and pleased with himself was far better than the depression and anxiety he usually displayed. “You need to get out more.”

  His dad shrugged.

  “What about Janice?” Joe asked. “The nice lady who lives down the street who makes you brownies. She offered to take you to the movies.”

  “She’s old.”

  “She’s forty-five,” Joe said dryly. “Seven years younger than you, by the way.”

  His dad looked up in surprise. And guilt.

  Well, shit. “Dad, what did you do?”

  Silence.

  “Tell me you weren’t . . . yourself with her,” Joe said.

  “That’s all I know how to be.”

  “What did you say exactly?”

  His dad shifted in his chair, his only concession to feeling bad about whatever he’d done. “She wanted me to join some Bunko club. And learn to line dance with her.”

  “And?”

  His dad stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Bunko is a stupid chick game and hello, I’m in a chair. I can’t dance.”

  “Men play Bunko,” Joe said and hoped that was true. He actually wasn’t sure what Bunko was. “And you’re in a chair that has wheels. Good ones.” He’d seen to it himself. “But I’m begging you—put on pants first. And then, if a woman likes you enough to want to share her life with you, don’t be stupid about it. You share her life.”

  “How about I’ll take that advice when you do the same?”

  “No problem,” Joe said. “But no one’s asked me to play Bunko or line dance.”

  “You know what I mean. You’re just as much a loner as I am.”

  “Yeah, well.” Joe blew out a breath. “Maybe it’s time a couple of old dogs learn some new tricks.”

  “Like I said, you first.”

  Joe’s mind went immediately to Kylie, and he had to admit, he hoped she didn’t play Bunko or line dance.

  They ate in contemplative silence, and afterward Joe quickly cleaned up and got his dad through his nighttime routine. Shower, pills, bed.

  “What’s the bum rush for?” his dad asked, pulling up his blankets.

  “No rush,” Joe said, putting a glass of water on the nightstand.

  “Can’t bullshit a bullshitter, son. The other night we watched a whole season of Pretty Little Liars. Tonight, though, your ass is on fire to get out of here, which I suppose means I don’t have to feel bad that I watched the first episode of the next season with Molly.”

  “Wow,” Joe said. “Your TV etiquette sucks. And I’m leaving because I have work.” It was true. Sort of. He was meeting Kylie at seven at her place to check out another apprentice. Eric Hansen, who by lucky coincidence was having a showing at a nearby gallery tonight. It’d be a perfect way to get in close. He’d called Kylie earlier to let her know, and predictably, she’d insisted on going.

  And that was the thing about Kylie. She wasn’t looking for a hero. Guys like Joe were used to women looking for them to solve all their problems, but Kylie wasn’t like that. She was out there doing the work, trying to solve it herself. And hell if that didn’t draw him in.

  As did their explosive chemistry.

  It made no sense. She was a huge contrast to the rest of his life. She created beauty with her hands and assumed the best about people. He’d been torn between annoyance over that and something that was just about the opposite of annoyance . . .

  “It’s a girl, right?” his dad said. “Christ, tell me it’s a girl. Ted’s son left his wife for some guy that wears eyeliner and nail polish. Don’t know what the fuck this world is coming to.”

  Ed had been in his dad’s unit. He was in a long-term care facility and had been since they’d both gotten back to stateside, but they kept in touch via texts. “There’s nothing wrong with Kelly coming out as gay,” Joe said.

  “Well, Ed, asked for it, giving his boy a sissy name like Kelly.”

  Joe checked the lock on the window just for something to do rather than react to his dad’s words. The doctor had told Joe on numerous occasions that his dad was angry at everyone equally, which meant he was an equal opportunity bigot. Not that this made it any easier to take. “Things are different now, Dad. Gender and orientation are fluid.”

  “So you wouldn’t care if I started wearing makeup? Or got a boyfriend?”

  “Not in the least,” Joe said. “Mostly because I’m assuming you’d have to get way nicer to catch a man in the first place.”

  His dad surprised him by laughing. He was still laughing when he turned over in bed and gave Joe his back.

  Joe left and drove through the city to Kylie’s building. He knocked on her door and felt her looking at him through the peephole. He expected her to still be pissed at how he’d left her after Gib had showed up, so he was surprised when she spoke first.

  “You over yourself?” she asked through the door.

  He lifted a shoulder. “Pretty much.”

  “Good.” She opened the door and that was that. No passive-aggressive retorts, no pouting, no nothing.

  He’d never met a woman like her.

  Ever.

  He took in her appearance and went brows up. She was wearing a blond wig tonight, huge dark sunglasses, and a trench coat.

  “Tell me you’re butt-ass naked beneath that trench coat,” he said. “It’d really turn my day around.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m in costume!”

  “I can see that,” he said. “Slutty nurse? Oh please God, be the slutty nurse.”

  “Are you serious right now? I’m dressed in disguise so I can go to Eric Hansen’s show and not be recognized.”

  Joe couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. And he couldn’t stop either.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and he tried to get it together. “Ah, shit,” he said, swiping his eyes. “I needed this after the fubar day I’ve had.”

  “I’m not trying to amuse you,” she said in her pissy voice. “I’m going into the gallery as a secret shopper.”

  “Kylie,” he said, doing his best not to laugh again. He wasn’t sure she wouldn’t slug him. “I’m going in as a normal person.”

  “But you’re not normal.”

  “Okay, smartass,” he said. “I just want to look around and if I can talk to Eric.”

  “Fine. Then what’s my part?”

  “Part?” he asked.

  “My motivation. Actors need motivation.”

  He looked her over from head to toe and had to shake his head to clear the heat. “Your motivation is going to be keeping me from getting into that coat to see what you’re wearing beneath.”

  Her mouth went a little slack, as if maybe she was imaging the ways he might coax her out of that coat. Yeah, he thought. Go there, Kylie. Think about it. Picture it. It just might put them in the same boat.

  But as fast as it’d come, her dazed expression cleared. She tightened the coat around her. “Is your mind always in the gutter?”

  “Always,” he said, and steered her to his truck. “You might want to remember that.”

  Thirty minutes later, they had a new problem. They were stymied by the fact that the showing was a ticketed event, sold out, and no amount of cajoling at the front entrance could get them inside. Joe was prepared to sneak them in through the bac
k, but one look at the fancy-ass party being thrown inside told him they weren’t dressed to sneak in. Plus he hated champagne and fancy froufrou food.

  They’d just have to wait until the thing was over. To waste some time, he went through a drive-thru for Kylie, whose stomach he could hear rumbling in protest of the lack of food, and then he parked in back, where he eyed Eric’s vehicle.

  “What are we doing back here?” Kylie asked, inhaling her French fries.

  “Stakeout.”

  She nodded. “How long do we wait?”

  “Long as it takes,” he said distractedly because she was sucking the salt off her thumb.

  Then she sucked on the straw to her soda and he nearly had a brain aneurism.

  “What’s the longest you’ve had to wait?” she asked.

  He met her gaze with some difficulty. The woman had the most gorgeous mouth he’d ever seen.

  “Well?” she demanded, cracking through the lust and making him smile. She was impatient as hell. What is the longest I’ve had to wait? Well, let’s see . . . he’d waited an entire year before getting his mouth on hers, but he was pretty sure that was way too revealing, not to mention not what she’d meant. “It won’t be much longer.”

  “What if we miss him back here?”

  “We won’t. That’s his car,” he said, pointing to the Tesla Roadster on the corner. “He’s not going anywhere without us knowing about it.”

  She slid him a look. “And as a bonus, by waiting back here you don’t have to put on a suit.”

  He went brows up.

  “Molly told me you hate to wear suits. That your idea of dressing up is tucking in your T-shirt.” She smiled. “Molly’s pretty funny.”

  “Molly has a big mouth,” he said.

  “Molly’s amazing.”

  True story. Molly was amazing. Didn’t mean he wanted his baby sister giving away his secrets. “What else did she say about me?” he asked.

  “That heroes don’t wear capes, they wear dog tags and camo, and that you and your dad are her heroes.”

  Ah, hell. “I’m no one’s hero, Kylie.”

  Their gazes met and then hers dropped to his mouth. Great minds, he thought as she shifted closer in that sexy blond wig and the trench coat that was still fucking with his mind. He had his arm along the back of her seat and let his fingers stroke the soft skin at the nape of her neck.

  She shivered and her eyes darkened, and that was all the invite he needed. He lowered his head to hers and—

  She jumped back like she’d been stung by a bee. “Oh!” she said. “I almost forgot.” She dove into her huge purse and came up with two penknives.

  “I’m already armed,” he said.

  “What?” She blinked. “No, I’m going to teach you how to carve.” She paused. “Wait. You’re armed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you always armed?”

  “On the job, yeah.”

  She looked him over, her gaze slowing in certain spots that had him getting a little heated. “Where?”

  “Kylie—”

  She shook her head a little. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. Carve. We’re going to carve.”

  “Why?”

  “So you can understand why I want my grandpa’s penguin back.” She then proceeded to pull two small blocks of wood from her bag.

  “How much shit does that bag hold?” he asked in marvel.

  “A lot, and that’s the point of it.” She also came up with a bag of chocolate kisses, grinning in triumph. “Dessert!”

  He wasn’t much of a dessert guy but she looked so pleased with herself. The chocolate went down sweet and so did the way she so carefully showed him how to hold the wood and how to carve. He opened his mouth to tell her he didn’t have the patience for art but she bent over him, her brow furrowed in cute, bossy teacher mode. The long blond wig strands swept across his forearms and he forgot what he was going to say. He followed her instructions and they carved.

  It was nearly impossible to make anything except notches in the wood but he did his best. After a few minutes, Kylie lifted her face to his, their mouths only an inch apart, hers smiling. “Wow,” she said. “You’re really bad at this.”

  No doubt. And something else he was—hard and getting harder by the moment. It was unbelievable to him just how uncontrolled he was around her. He had no excuse for it, but he was damned tired of fighting it. So he hauled her into his lap so that she straddled him, cupped her sweet ass in his hands, and kissed her until it was him letting out a groan for more, him sweating because he wanted her more than he could remember ever wanting anything, him actually losing his ability to keep vigilant and aware of his surroundings.

  He stopped only when she put a hand on his chest and pulled back.

  “Don’t you need to keep a lookout?” she asked, as if she hadn’t just completely rocked his world into next week.

  They could have been surrounded by gangbangers and he wouldn’t have even noticed. He had it bad and worse, he didn’t care. He still had a hand gripping a cheek, the other fisted in her hair to hold her head. “Yeah.” Jesus. He shook the lust off with shocking difficulty, even as a small part of him recognized this wasn’t just sheer animal magnetism. But that problem would have to get in line.

  “So . . .” She smiled. “Back to carving?”

  “Sure.” He was glad his voice sounded so normal because he didn’t feel normal. He felt like howling at the moon. But though she was flushed from the kiss, she looked equally happy to teach him to carve.

  Talk about humbling. So when she climbed off him and back into her seat, he pretended to give a shit about using a knife for something other than threatening someone and told himself to just enjoy having her hands on his.

  Even though what he really wanted was to have his hands back on her.

  Chapter 12

  #HeresLookingAtYouKid

  Kylie didn’t carve very often anymore. When her grandpa had been alive, they’d carved together at night after work and chores were done. It’d been a way they could connect, and for Kylie, who hadn’t had a lot of connections in her life, it’d been everything.

  After her grandpa’s death, carving had lost some of its appeal. But tonight, getting her hands on the knife, the movements came back easily as getting on a bike after a long absence, and it gave her . . . peace.

  Being in such close contact with Joe gave her other things too. Like a soul-deep yearning and a hunger she’d denied for far too long now. She watched him work the knife over the wood, cutting deep instead of shallow, and she had to admit, it was kind of fun to find that he wasn’t good at everything. She put her hands over his again, trying to show not tell that he needed to caress and finesse. Wrapping her fingers around his, she guided them as he worked the knife up and down.

  His eyes landed on hers. “If you keep that up,” he said, “we’re not going to have any problem with the wood.”

  He said the word wood in a low, suggestive tone, and her hands stilled as she felt her cheeks flush pink. He held her gaze for a long moment, smiled, and then . . . went back to concentrating on the carving.

  She adjusted the angle of his wrists, but mostly it was just to keep her hands on him. He was warm to the touch and she could feel the sinewy muscles in his forearms flexing with each stroke of his knife. She squirmed in her seat, and again he met her gaze. At whatever he found in her expression, a full-blown smile lit up his face, transforming him into a regular guy for a minute. “It’s been a long time,” he said.

  “Since . . . ?”

  “Since I’ve had fun on a stakeout.”

  She laughed. “I thought you were going to say since you’ve had a woman in your car who you weren’t trying to sleep with.”

  “Who says I’m not trying to sleep with you?” he asked.

  Note to self: Don’t tease him. He’s better at it than you.

  “Come here, Kylie.”

  His voice was deep and steady and she didn’t hesitate. She scooted close
and hard arms pulled her in. Lowering his head, he kissed her. He tasted like chocolate, smelled like aspen wood, and felt like heaven. It was the best kiss she’d ever had and she didn’t want it to end, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Eric come out the back door of the gallery. “Joe.”

  “Yeah?” His mouth was making its hungry way along her jaw to her ear, where he took her lobe in between his teeth and gave a slight tug, causing an answering tug between her legs.

  “D-don’t we need to talk to Eric?”

  He licked the spot he’d just bitten. “Uh-huh.”

  She put her hand on his chest and pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “So are we going to do that now?”

  He jerked upright and looked out the window to see what she had, that Eric had just come out the back door of the gallery. “Shit.” He was out of the truck so fast her head was spinning. But that might have been the kiss.

  Or . . . the knowledge that she’d once again caused Joe to lose control, a fact that gave her a surge of feminine power that had her smiling and unable to stop.

  When she followed him, he glanced over at her and narrowed his eyes at her smile. This only made her smile wider and he shook his head—whether at her or him, she couldn’t be sure, but she thought maybe it was at himself. Which she liked very much.

  Inexplicably happy, she followed him and took in the sight of Eric. She hadn’t seen him in years and he hadn’t changed. He still looked like Gumby in cowboy gear, complete with hat and boots. When he turned from locking the back door of the gallery and saw them standing there, his eyes went straight to Joe and lit up like Christmas.

  “Wow, dreams do come true,” he said and gave Joe a slow look up and down.

  Joe didn’t blink, just gave Eric that patented badass look of his, the one that would have had Kylie peeing her pants if it’d been directed at her.

  “We’d like to ask you some questions,” Joe said.

  “Sugar, you can ask me anything you’d like.”

  Joe slid a look in Kylie’s direction, bringing Eric’s attention to her for the first time. He paused and then his entire face brightened, going from flirty to happy. “Kylie Masters!” he squealed. “Oh my God, is that really you?”