by Meg Collett
“Kyra.” Mrs. Harrison drew out her name like it was a reprimand. “I’m glad to see you finally got around to fixing your garden.” She paused as she came to a stop on the other side of Kyra’s newly exposed fence. “After our garden club pictures, I might add.”
“I had to wait until the construction crew finished all their repairs to the outside.” She flashed an overly sweet smile.
Mrs. Harrison clucked her tongue, not believing Kyra for one second, even though it was technically the truth. “Well, I came over to ask about dear Stephanie. How is she doing after her…accident?”
Kyra’s eyes narrowed, and all the fear and anger she’d felt since yesterday surged back. “She’s doing well.”
“That’s good to hear. But of course, if you play with fire, you’re going to get burned. And all that drinking and boozing she does is playing with fire.”
“Excuse me?” Kyra sputtered.
“Looking good, Mrs. Harrison,” Hale called from behind Kyra. He put his hand around her waist, and to her ear, he said, “Calm down. It’s okay.”
“Mr. Cooper,” the older woman drawled, her eyes settling on his hand on Kyra.
“It’s awfully hot out here today,” he said. “You better get inside and get cooled off. You don’t want to have a stroke or something.”
Kyra snorted as Mrs. Harrison’s eyes threatened to bulge out of her head. Hale didn’t wait for her response. He pulled Kyra inside and slammed the front door shut.
“I thought you wanted me to be more honest about how I feel? I was about to give her a piece of my mind,” she said, taking a deep breath to calm down.
“I do, but I don’t want you to give Mrs. Harrison a heart attack if you say she’s not worth being crapped out of a dog’s ass.”
“Okay, fair point.”
“Garden looks good though. I can order some mulch and topsoil for you. You can pick out the flowers you want to add in.” Hale thought for a moment before he went on. “I could even build you some window boxes if you’re nice to me. It would help brighten up the porch if you added some plants up here too.”
“Will you do all the planting and mulching as part of the job?” she asked hopefully.
He let out a bark of laughter and clapped her on the shoulder. “You’re funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be,” she said, mumbling the words under her breath.
“The kitchen should be done soon.” He went on as if he didn’t hear her. “You could cook tonight if you want.”
“Are you inviting yourself over?” Kyra cocked a brow at him. Only now did she notice the sheen of sweat making his thin, worn shirt cling to his chest. He smelled of musk and man, and it was enough to have her insides tightening. He noticed her staring; he leaned in and ran his hand down her backside.
“Yeah, I am. Is that a problem?”
“No.” She let out a whoosh of air when his fingers found the bare back of her thigh. He hooked a finger underneath the hem of her shorts.
“Good.” Blushing, she looked around to make sure none of the crew had seen before she hurried inside to shower.
twenty
Aunt Carol, for the millionth time, everything is okay. I promise.” Kyra shifted the groceries in her hand and unlocked her front door.
“I’m just concerned about the people you’re hanging around with these days.” Aunt Carol sniffed. She’d been calling incessantly all day, so Kyra had finally answered. She regretted it now.
“They are good people.”
The crew was gone and the house was mostly silent. From the back of the house, she heard the sounds of the shower running. She froze by the stairs, bags in hand, as her heart started to hammer.
“You call them good people, but one got arrested and another is in the hospital for drunk driving?”
“Aunt Carol, I gotta go.” Kyra hung up, her eyes darting around for any sign of a break-in.
But Hale’s tool belt lay beside the entry to the kitchen, and she let out the breath she was holding. He was cleaning up. In her house. He was naked. Showering. In her house.
The shower cut off and she hurried into the kitchen like she was caught doing something wrong. But once again she came to a stop and her heart jumped to her throat. The kitchen wasn’t completely done, but she loved it already.
The cabinets were open and airy. Some of the top ones were just floating shelves where she could line up her herb plants or jars of flour and sugar. The counters were the soft soapstone Hale had helped her pick out. All her appliances were a cute retro green color and shape. In the middle of the room was an island to prepare food, and there was still enough space for a small breakfast table in front of the windows. It was perfect.
“Looks pretty good, huh?”
Hale wrapped his still-damp arms around her waist. His bare chest pressed against her back as he pulled her in closer, engulfing her in the scent of soapy male. She craned her neck to look back at him. “It’s amazing! I can’t believe it turned out so well.”
“I appreciate your vote of confidence.” Hale laughed and kissed her softly on the lips. “Of course, the hardware isn’t authentic to the era…”
Rolling her eyes, Kyra looked at the cute knobs she and Stevie had found at the salvage place. “Maybe not, but they’re so cute!”
“Whatever you say. So what are you cooking in your surprisingly decent kitchen?” He stepped away and peered into the shopping bags she’d set on the counter.
“I need to try a tofu and vegan chocolate chip recipe tonight for work,” Kyra said sheepishly. She shrugged when he just stared blankly at her. “Maybe you’ll try it and like it?”
“Maybe I’ll order takeout. Why are you a vegan anyway?”
She stepped around him and started pulling stuff out of the bags. “It’s healthier, and it makes my body feel good.”
“Don’t you miss meat?” he asked, hopping up onto the counter to watch her put away the food. She debated with each item, considering what new shelf she wanted to put it on.
“Sometimes,” she said, answering his question, but she was distracted as she tried to organize her fridge the way she wanted it. “I’ll eat some meat every now and then in small quantities. Humans weren’t meant to eat as much protein as we do now. Our bodies are supposed to process more of a hunter-and-gatherer diet.”
“But we’ve evolved.”
“Sure.” Kyra closed the fridge and crossed back over to the shopping bags. “But we also have a lot more food allergies and food intolerances these days than there were back then.”
They talked as she prepared the food. It was easy to be with Hale, to talk to him, and listen. He was open to her ideas, even if he teased her relentlessly about them. He made her laugh and smile, and when he asked her a question, she didn’t think twice about her answer, which was a new development. She just talked, and the time slipped past.
She brought down her camera to record some pieces of her preparing the vegan cookies. Hale watched her with interest as she set everything up to look pretty before she started filming little snippets of the cooking process. She took pictures of herself with the batter and as she waited for the cookies to cook. He asked her more questions about what she did every day, so she told him about the video she’d made earlier. She could tell he was proud of her, and that lightened her mood even more.
They sat on her back porch to eat. She brought out some wine for Hale to drink with his dinner. He tried the tofu and deemed it bearable but completely unsatisfying. The cookies were a better hit, and he had a few. When she was full, she laid down, resting her head on a pillow.
“Kyra.”
“Yeah?” She propped her head up so she could see him. He reached out and traced her ankle bone with the tip of his finger. The calluses there were familiar now, and a shiver rippled up her spine.
“Why did you move here?” he asked. His eyes were on her skin, but his brows were drawn together in thought.
Kyra knew he was asking about more than just the fact tha
t her mom’s childhood home had come up for sale, because he already knew that fact. He wanted the real reasons. She turned her head to watch the waves through the spindles of the porch railing. The breeze off the water was just cool enough to chill her skin. Hale moved the tracing patterns of his finger higher up to her calf.
“I thought it would help me,” she said quietly.
“With what?”
“The bad days. Some were so awful that I didn’t even want to get out of bed.” Kyra turned her head back toward him to watch his face as she explained. “My life hasn’t been bad. The only thing that I can even be sad about would be my mom. So I thought if I came here, I could deal with it and move on. I’d hoped it would take the bad days away.”
Hale started massaging her calf as he thought about her answer. The silence stretched out between them. The sounds of the waves and the magic of his hand was lulling her to sleep. Her eyes fluttered open when he spoke again. “Depression is a chemical imbalance. You don’t have to have a horrible life to deserve to be sad.”
“Yeah. Sure.” But Kyra didn’t believe it; she’d always felt guilty for feeling the way she did.
“Are the bad days gone?”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a bad day since coming to Canaan, which was a good sign, even if it was likely only a temporary one. “For now. They go and come. But I think Stevie helps and Cade and especially you.”
“Me? How?” His hand slipped higher to the back of her knee where he stroked the tender skin. Kyra’s eyes fell closed once again.
“Hmmm. That feels good,” she said.
“How do I help you, Kyra?” Hale asked again.
“You keep me honest, even if you are a jerk about it.”
“I see it sometimes, hiding behind what you say or do. You mask it, and I don’t even think you know sometimes.”
“What is ‘it’?” Kyra murmured, her thoughts not really on the conversation.
“A sadness.”
Her eyes reared open. She sat up on her elbows and looked down at Hale. “I’m not sad.” He cocked an eyebrow at her and stopped moving his hand. The absence of his touch was like a winter wind settling into her bones. “I’m not sad right now,” she corrected.
“That’s good. What do you feel right now?” he asked, hooking his hand beneath her knees and pulling her legs farther apart. He shifted between them and skimmed his hands along the inside of her thighs.
Considering the fact that Kyra’s throat was closing in and her heart was beating between her legs, she would have said she was incredibly turned on if she could speak. But Hale wasn’t waiting for an answer. He pushed the hem of her dress up her legs to her hips, exposing the sheer lace of her underwear that she’d picked out just for tonight.
He crooked his finger around the lace edge and pushed them aside, exposing her to the night air. “I see how wet you are, Kyra. You’re glistening.”
She moaned and arched her back, pressing herself down into his hand. Her only coherent thoughts were of the pulses searing between her legs and the wild ache building down there. She needed him to ease it, to bring her relief.
Instead of using his finger, he bent down, lowering his head between her legs. A moment of clarity shuddered through Kyra, and she tried to shift away, feeling suddenly far too exposed and vulnerable. Hale gripped her hips to keep her in place. “I want to taste you,” he said, his voice sounding like it was drug across gravel.
“Hale, I don’t know…I mean, I don’t…”
“Has anyone else ever tasted you?” he asked, rising up to look at her face. She shook her head. Unreasonably, she wanted to cry; this act felt too intimate, too real. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She wanted to jerk him away from her, but she couldn’t move. “Good,” Hale growled.
It was too late to stop him now. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath as he positioned himself between her legs. His tongue was like a lick of heat flaming through her core. She gasped and jerked, but he held her tight. His fingers spread her apart, and he licked her again, playing his tongue across her clit and sucking on her lips.
His mouth on her was both soft and powerful at the same time—not the sensations Kyra had expected. It was the lightest of touches, but it sent quakes through her entire foundation. She felt as though the floor was opening up beneath her and she was falling through. She groaned and rocked her hips, urging him for more. She felt him smile against her as he pushed his tongue into her.
She was about to come right when Hale rose up again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Kyra blinked at him as she tried to pull herself back away from the cliff she was about to walk off of. The frustration of being so close to coming welled up inside of Kyra until she saw how pale and clammy Hale looked in the moonlight.
“Oh, man,” he said, putting his hand on his flat stomach.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, tugging her dress down to cover herself.
“I don’t feel so good.”
Just then a horrible rumble ripped through Hale’s gut, loud enough for Kyra to hear. “Oh, gosh. Are you sick?”
To answer, Hale turned and threw up over the edge of porch. She scrambled up and went to his side. Not knowing what else to do, she rubbed his back as he groaned and heaved some more. She tried not to think too much about the sounds, but her own stomach began to twist.
Covering her mouth with her hand, she willed herself not to puke, but her throat started squeezing and her mouth pooled with saliva. She made it to the other edge of the porch just in time to throw up too.
When she was just dry heaving, Kyra stood up. Hale was propped against the railing. He handed her a napkin to wipe her mouth. “Thanks,” she said weakly. “Seeing other people throw up makes me throw up.”
“I have never,” Hale said, spitting out the bile in his mouth, “ever, ever had to work this hard to get into someone’s pants.”
Kyra wanted to laugh, but she only managed a groan. “I hope it was the cookies that made you sick and not…me.”
Hale tried to roll his eyes at her before he swayed. “Ugh. I need to lay down somewhere preferable by a toilet. This isn’t over yet.”
Kyra grimaced and helped him inside. She took him to the back bathroom, where he draped himself over the commode. He was already heaving when she left again to gather the things from the porch. By the time she had everything cleaned up, including the puke, which she buried deep in the ground, Hale was asleep on the bathroom floor.
She went upstairs and brought down a blanket and pillow, which she eased under his head before she settled the blanket over him. Going back into the kitchen, she brought out a bottle of water and some Tylenol to put within his reach. He still didn’t look comfortable—or even alive, for that matter.
Kyra stood in the doorway and considered what she should do. Maybe a better person would curl up next to him, but she didn’t want to get puked on during the night if he couldn’t make it to the toilet. So she went upstairs and washed off her face. After brushing her teeth for nearly five minutes, she collapsed into bed.
But she wasn’t tired. Actually, she was the opposite of tired. She kept remembering Hale’s mouth on her and how surprising it had been. Once she’d let him start, she’d felt like every wall had come down inside her. It couldn’t get more intimate than that, and she’d let him do it. It had been so freeing and…sensual. She’d never felt so sexy or turned on in her life.
Thinking about it now had her aching again. She wanted Hale so bad that she literally felt a physical pain between her legs. It was torture, and no matter how much she tossed and turned, she couldn’t alleviate it.
Kyra stilled in bed. The brine was heavy in the air tonight, but she still smelled Hale on her skin. She thought of his hands trailing up her thighs, and she reached down and touched her skin. Her fingers weren’t rough like his, but she imagined his as she pushed her dress up just like he’d done.
She pulled her panties down to her knees and took a deep breath; she’
d never touched herself before. It’s not that she hadn’t wanted to, or that she was too embarrassed to. She just hadn’t let herself. Just like she’d never let a man taste her before.
Now she let her fingers drift between her legs. She drew lazy circles on the innermost part of her thighs while she worked up the confidence to touch herself. Biting her lip, she eased her hand over, letting her fingers slip between her folds. She was shocked at how wet she was, but the ache eased slightly as she began to work her fingers over her clit like Hale had done. She alternated between rubbing herself and slipping her middle finger inside her. She didn’t know what she was doing, but she figured out what felt good until she started getting close again.
A floorboard creaked beside her bedroom door, and Kyra jerked up in bed. Hale stood inside her doorframe, watching her as he drank water. “Don’t stop on my account.”
Kyra blushed so badly that she felt the heat deep in her chest like unrelenting heartburn. She didn’t know what to do as Hale came into the room and around her bed. He stripped down to his boxers and laid down beside her. He was on his side, staring at her.
“Keep going,” he said.
Kyra tried to laugh, but it sounded like she was choking. “Uh, I don’t think so.”
“Kyra, do me one favor tonight other than poisoning me, and, please, for the love of all things holy, touch yourself while I watch.”
She wanted to explain that she hadn’t meant to poison him, but his eyes bore into hers and she couldn’t think of anything else. The breeze rustled through the room again, and she shivered as she reached back down between her legs.
“Show me.”
She shifted her body, angling onto her side so that he could see as she pushed her finger inside. He looked riveted and so into what she was doing that she felt emboldened. She spread her legs a little farther and pushed down the straps of her dress with her other hand. Tugging the material down to expose her breasts, she teased her nipple. The tightness in Hale’s boxers grew every second, making his dick look even bigger.
