“You’re tense.” The woman continued combing Kimmy’s hair.
“I’m tense because you keep talking about bangs.”
“You need a complete spa treatment. Massage. Facial. Wax. Mani-pedi. Hair. Afterward, you’ll feel like a new woman.” Her recommendations sounded convincing. Her hair, skin, and nails were flawless. Not to mention she styled hair while wearing high heels. She looked like she belonged at Hay’s party more than Kimmy ever would.
“Okay, fine.” Her credit card balance was going to be huge. “As long as you promise me no bangs.”
The woman didn’t promise.
Hours later, Kimmy left the mall with her purchases, muscles aching from a deep tissue massage, upper lip red from waxing, and bangs falling in a straight line across her forehead.
If it hadn’t been for her promise to Booker, friend and sandwich thief, she might not have opened the door when he came to pick her up for the barbecue.
“Whoa.” Booker took a step back. “Somebody’s been out shopping and…”
“You hate them.” Kimmy tried to pull her bangs down, hoping to help them grow out quicker. Like in the next ten minutes. “I don’t blame you. I hate them.”
“I wasn’t looking at your bangs.” He swooped in and ruffled them up. “That’s better.”
Kimmy doubted it.
Skippy sauntered out to rub against Booker’s legs.
“I recognize you from your pictures.” He leaned down to scratch her behind the ears. “Tell Kim she looks awesome, Skippy.”
On cue, Kimmy’s cat blinked up at her and meowed.
Kimmy took a moment to stare in disbelief. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road.” She grabbed a sweater and then locked her apartment door behind them, hurried down the stairs, and headed toward Booker’s truck. When she noticed Booker wasn’t with her, she stopped and turned. “What is it now? Did I leave a tag on?” She turned this way and that, tugging at her skirt.
“You have curves,” Booker said, almost in awe. “And legs.”
Kimmy sent her gaze skyward. “How many years have you known me?”
“Twenty-seven.” He approached, circled, and smiled. The really good smile. The one that practically lifted her spirits along with her lips. “I can’t remember ever seeing your knees after the sixth grade.”
“That can’t be. We went to prom…” She hadn’t wanted to bring that up again.
“Everyone has an unfortunate event in their past.” Booker caught her hand and led her to his truck. “So you ordered a prom dress online.”
“It wasn’t anything like the picture.” Or anything that flattered her teenage shape in any way. “No big deal. I just wore my coat all night.” And sweat like she’d taken hot yoga until one of the chaperones forced her to remove her coat in case she was harboring everyone’s alcohol. And then Booker and Hay had dared her to dance. And she’d gotten out there—horrid dress, horrid dance moves, and all.
Booker opened her door and helped her into the seat. “If you want to feel better, I could tell you about my preteen acne, which required a prescription and a nightly treatment from my grandmother—who made a sickly smelling poultice.”
“Enough said.”
When Booker was behind the wheel, he slipped her another smile. “I know I’m going to say this wrong but you look beautiful.”
Kimmy’s cheeks heated. “Which is another way of saying that normally I don’t.”
“That’s enough whining.” He brought the truck to a stop at an intersection and then brushed his knuckles gently over her cheek.
The air went out of her lungs.
“I’ve only recently learned about penalties for whining. Per the retirement home rules, you owe me a nickel.” He drew his hand back and then made a right turn. “However, I’m willing to waive that fee since I owe you for the use of your sandwiches. I’ll pay for that dress you’re wearing. I’m sure you wouldn’t have bought it if not for our pact.”
Kimmy indignantly sucked in air. “You’re not paying for my clothes.”
“Then I’ll get you something for your food truck.”
“No thank you.” She sat stiffly in the seat, fully cognizant that she could use the money. “You don’t need to offer me money to make yourself feel better.”
“Kimmy, I want to pay you. I want to make this right. I—”
“If you offer me money again, I’m going to have to break my promise.” Her words tumbled out too quickly and at too high a pitch. Her cheeks began to heat again.
Booker glanced at her as he neared the town square. Her sister, Rosalie, was walking with her fiancé and their dogs. She waved.
Kimmy raised a limp hand. “If we both think this dating ruse is a bad idea, we can stop this now.” She’d return the other dresses and ask Paul to be her wedding date. She was sure he’d dance with her.
“This isn’t a bad idea,” Booker said firmly. “And I should know. I’m the king of bad ideas.”
“That you are.” At least he was fessing up to it.
Booker took Kimmy’s hand, and when she gave him an incredulous look, he said, “We need the practice.”
And then her cheeks were heating for an entirely different reason.
They reached Haywood’s place and went around to the backyard.
Kimmy stopped just inside the gate. She’d cleaned the inside yesterday but that had been before the decorators and caterers had come. “So pretty.”
“Yes,” Booker murmured next to her.
“Just look at all this.” She dragged him forward. “It’s wonderful.”
“It is.” His voice was gruff. His gaze intent. But he wasn’t staring at the backyard. He was staring at her.
Attraction fluttered in her chest. She swallowed. “You’re not even looking.” She turned and pointed, focusing on her surroundings rather than Booker.
There were Chinese lanterns in orange and blue. Twinkle lights were strung from the trees, their warm glow just beginning to challenge the dusky sky. Places were set on white tablecloths with bouquets of spring flowers. Cushy blue chairs and couches sat around a stone fireplace with a roaring fire. Perfect for a chilly outdoor mountain evening.
It was everything the magazines depicted for garden parties, everything Kimmy longed to have someday if she could earn enough money. It made her sad that she’d be turning into a pumpkin at the end of the evening and going back to her two-room apartment with its outdated, cat-clawed furniture and plain white walls.
“Booker!” Haywood set down his beer and strode across the lawn to greet them. “You brought my favorite coworker in the whole wide world, Miss Kimmy Easley.” He hugged them each in turn.
Once released, Booker took Kimmy’s hand and gave her a look that seemed to say, Here we go.
“Book, you haven’t seen the house since I bought it.” Hay gestured around. “What do you think? Kim, Ariana, or I can give you a tour tonight.” Hay winked at Kimmy.
Booker raised his brows.
“I’ll explain later,” Kimmy said quickly, because Ariana was drifting across the lawn in an exquisite green dress and a delicate pair of taupe sandals with a mane of blond hair that had never been tortured with bangs.
“Booker. Kimmy.” Ariana noted their joined hands, and her smile broadened. “I was wondering when this would happen.”
“What?” Kimmy’s mouth dropped open. She wouldn’t have noticed if Booker hadn’t lifted her chin to close it.
“The chemistry between you two has been off the charts for years.” Ariana clapped her hands. “Come on. Hay’s been grilling but everybody knows he can’t hold a candle to you two in that department.” She hooked her arm through Kimmy’s and led her to a bar setup. “How about a glass of wine?”
“Sure.”
“Cabernet? Sauv blanc? Pinot noir?” Ariana tilted the bottles as she read the varieties.
The last time Kimmy had wine, it had been strawberry moscato and sweeter than soda pop. “I’ll have whatever you’re drinking.” Becau
se she had no idea what kind of taste to expect from the wines before her. But she was determined to fit in and finish whatever was in her glass.
“Sauv blanc. This one’s from South Africa.” Ariana poured white wine into a glass and handed it to Kimmy. She paused, staring at Kimmy’s forehead. “Those bangs…”
“I know, right? Huge mistake.” Kimmy tugged at them.
Ariana gently moved Kimmy’s hand aside. “They should have blended them, whoever it was. Bangs are the right idea with the shape of your face, but not blunt cut. What was your hairstylist thinking?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come into the salon tomorrow at eight.”
“Oh, I couldn’t impose.” No matter how awesome it felt to be asked.
“It’ll take five minutes. Ten tops.” Ariana fluffed Kimmy’s bangs again. “And you’ll feel ten times better.”
“Okay.” Who could argue with ten times better?
“What are we talking about?” A long, heavy arm came to rest over Kimmy’s shoulders.
Kimmy would never admit Booker’s touch sent her heart fluttering or that she edged closer to him.
“I was just about to say that you two are needed at the grill.” Ariana smiled at Booker. “But you’re so cute together.”
Kimmy stopped a reflexive disbelieving eye roll. Booker being gorgeous and Kimmy being bang challenged—a cute couple they didn’t make.
“We are, aren’t we?” Booker drew Kimmy closer, next to his firm chest and his body heat.
Instinctually, Kimmy wanted to turn into him, to snuggle closer, to lift her face for a kiss.
But this is Booker.
“Whew.” Kimmy skirted out from under his arm on unsteady feet, balancing her wineglass with one hand. “It’s getting hot out here. Come on, grillmaster. Let’s see what’s for dinner.”
For a moment, there was a look in Booker’s eyes that Kimmy didn’t recognize, a gleam that left her feeling breathless.
This isn’t my Booker.
But then Booker fluffed her bangs and glanced away.
Kimmy stared at him, trying to reconcile this Booker with the Booker she’d known most of her life and failing.
“Go mingle,” Booker told Kimmy in a gruff voice. “I’ve got this covered.”
“Are you sure?” Kimmy cradled the bowl of her wineglass between them.
“Yep.” He went over to join Hay at the grill.
Leaving Kimmy feeling oddly bereft.
“Well, aren’t you a surprise?” Haywood poked a steak with a fork, releasing some of its juice.
“Did you learn nothing while working at the Burger Shack?” Booker took possession of the fork, leaving Hay to pick up his beer.
“How long have you and Kimmy been dating?”
“Long enough.”
“Best-kept secret in Sunshine,” Hay teased. “That is, if it’s been longer than a day.”
Booker jabbed the meat harder than Haywood had. “You don’t have to go telling everybody.” In case things crashed and burned sooner than the wedding.
“Are you kidding?” Hay moved closer, lowering his voice. “Let’s tell everybody. This is what you’ve wanted for years.”
“You always did gossip like a girl.” But Booker smiled. “Don’t jinx it.”
Hay sipped his beer and stared toward the outdoor fireplace, where his guests were congregating. “Don’t break her heart.”
“I won’t.” Booker knew he couldn’t have Kimmy’s heart and her sandwiches. “This is just a friend helping out a friend.”
“Who’s helping who?” Hay turned serious. “Hurt her and I’ll have to give you a pounding.”
“I told you, I won’t.” But Booker’s shoulders were as stiff as steel.
Kimmy laughed at something Ariana said. The sound of her laughter was magnetic. Who was he kidding? Kimmy was magnetic. Smart, attractive. And she was gutsy. That food truck…He’d looked into the business once. It took hustle to make those profitable. If anyone could succeed at it, she could.
Hay raised his beer bottle toward her in salute, cheery on the outside, threatening with his words. “Have you told her?”
“I told her about college.” He’d been interrupted trying to tell her about the menu at the Burger Shack.
“She must have taken the college part of your story well.” Hay studied Booker’s expression. “Or not.”
“You never should’ve taught her how to give a charley horse.” He rolled his arm where she’d shoved him at Shaw’s and then turned the steaks.
“Good for her.” Hay grinned. “You know, I had a late lunch at the Burger Shack today, hoping to see you. Got a glimpse of Dante. He looked like working there was punishment.”
He’d whined like it too. Booker needed to get a whining jar for the Shack. “He’ll get over it. I did.”
Hay shook his head. “Your dad started you there when you were ten. Dante is seventeen. He’s not going to get over it.”
“Hard work has a way of changing people.”
“It changed us,” Hay agreed. “But that’s because we had to work—you so Dante could get well and me because my family needed food on the table.” And now Hay was a successful real estate agent. Maybe not selling million-dollar homes the way he’d dreamed as a kid, but he did okay.
“Whatever’s being said here is way too serious.” Kimmy came to stand between the two men. She had no idea how beautiful and sexy she looked. Kimmy stared at the steaks and breathed deeply. “There is nothing like the smell of grilled meat.”
Booker put his hand on Kimmy’s waist and tucked her to his side. He was nearly overcome with a sense of rightness, a need to pull her close and keep her there.
She gently pinched his waist. “I said, there’s nothing like the smell of grilled meat.”
“Ah, the sensory game,” Hay said, draining his beer. “I haven’t missed playing that at the Shack.”
Booker knew from his friend’s wry grin that wasn’t true. Hay liked mental challenges, and the sensory game was full of them—sights, sounds, tastes, touches, smells. “We’re doing good aromas? I’m partial to the smell of buttered popcorn.”
“Coffee, first thing in the morning.” Hay set his empty bottle down on the grill’s side table. “Too easy.”
“It’s only too easy if you win the game,” Kimmy insisted. “Mention a smell we both dislike and you lose. I like the smell of chocolate chip cookies.”
“Oh, man. We haven’t played this game in forever. I’m rusty.” Booker curled his fingers around her hip, trying to think of an answer. “There’s nothing like the smell of…” He drew in a deep breath.
There’s nothing like the smell of Kimmy’s hair.
Hay and Kimmy were staring at him, waiting.
His gaze caught on the flowers on the table. “There’s nothing like the smell of roses on a hot summer day.”
That earned him dual groans.
Barbara Hadley approached. She was the town queen bee, the owner of Prestige Salon, where Ariana worked, and the mayor’s wife. She was too thin, too put together, too brittle. Although she was smiling, she looked as if she knew something they didn’t. “Well, well, well. Booker and Kimmy. What a surprise.” She tossed her blond hair artfully.
Next to him, Kimmy stiffened.
Barb sidled closer, a spider looking for a fly. “How long have you guys been seeing each other?”
“Not long.” Booker pressed a kiss to Kimmy’s bangs.
“But long enough.” Kimmy slipped her arms around Booker’s waist and stared up at him. She was smiling broadly, and if he fuzzed his vision, he couldn’t see the hint of worry in her eyes.
The queen bee could be cruel. And if Barb sensed their relationship was a sham, not only would she expose them but she’d never let them forget they couldn’t fool her.
“Long enough?” Booker murmured, dipping his head. “Long past due, you mean.”
And then he kissed her.
Chapter Seven
Holy
moly. The man could kiss.
Kimmy nestled closer, drawn to the warmth, drawn to the intensity, drawn to the combination of strength and softness. Drawn to…Booker.
Hot. Dog.
“Nothing to see here.” Hay’s words drifted to her through the fog of desire.
Booker pulled away enough to stare into her eyes. It was the same face she’d grown up with. Handsome, strong. Dark eyes that gave away only the secrets he wanted you to know. This time she recognized the look in them. Booker wanted her. He wanted to kiss her again.
She stiffened because…
Holy moly. I want him to kiss me again too.
This was wrong. All wrong. They were friends. They’d always been friends.
And yet it felt right. So right.
She half expected Booker to pull back farther and laugh, that deep chuckle he released when he’d pulled one over on somebody, as if that kiss had been a joke. And if he did that, she’d have to laugh, force air through her lungs and make a lighthearted sound that said she knew what he’d done was all in fun, and she approved of the kissing charade.
Booker and Kimmy and Hay. The trio used to be a team. Working together like a well-oiled machine at the Burger Shack for years. Ribbing each other and the world at large good-naturedly.
Booker and Kimmy and Hay. They were friends. Regardless of her childhood crush, they had had fun together.
But that kiss…That kiss had been Booker and Kimmy. Friend zone breached. No fun intended.
Her knees were weak, and it wasn’t just because of the way Booker’s kiss had affected her. It was because it was a surprise.
Booker and Kimmy, no Haywood. The dynamic wasn’t exactly wrong but it was different. New.
She’d felt attraction for Booker before he’d returned but she’d never picked up on his want, his need. She didn’t know how to react or what to say.
Without moving away, Kimmy slid her gaze toward Hay, seeking out the familiar connection of the three musketeers.
Immediately, Booker released her. “Meat’s about to burn.”
“I’ll get it.” Kimmy reached for the fork.
Booker held it away. “I’ve got it.” The chill in those words. She got the message. He thought she cared about Hay’s reaction to their kiss.
Sealed with a Kiss--A Sunshine Valley novella Page 6
