by Lexy Timms
“Ah, so this is where all the magic happened. Michael Blade’s childhood room,” Kaitlin said.
“You got it all wrong. Honey was like a bloodhound; she could sniff out any girl I thought about bringing over when we were in high school. Hell, until you came over the other night looking for Rick, I’d never so much as kissed a girl here.”
The words wrapped around her like a blanket and she tried to shake it off. Neither of them had made any promises. This was just what it looked like from the start. A short-term fling while they were both in town. Nothing more. And letting herself get too used to him and his sweet talk was a first class ticket to Heart Break.
She turned around observing the AC/DC and Iron Maiden posters on the wall. There were racy pictures of pin-up girls straddling Harley-Davidson bikes and Mardi Gras beads hanging from his bed posts. His mattress was wrapped in satin black sheets and a life-size cutout of some motocross racer stood in the corner watching over them. Exactly how she would’ve pictured a teenage Michael’s bedroom to have looked.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“Him? Oh, that’s Travis Pastrana. He’s one of the greatest motocross racers to ever live.”
“Right,” she said with a nod. “Of course. And will he be watching over us tonight?”
“Very funny,” Mike let out a laugh. “Honey never changed our rooms after we moved out, besides dusting and vacuuming every once in awhile. I think part of her always secretly hoped maybe we’d come back.”
“So why not stay in the master now? I mean, I know your childhood room has character, but it’s a little cramped.”
“Oh, I sleep in the master while I’m here renovating. But not tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Are you kidding me? Sleep in Honey’s bed? With you?” he asked, brows raised. “The neighbor girl that she viewed as a surrogate granddaughter for years? She’d probably rise from the dead just to whoop me.”
Kaitlin wrinkled her nose and nodded. She hadn’t really thought that far into it, but now that he said it, it was definitely off the table.
“Yeah, I guess that would be weird. All right, so what’s for dinner? I cooked breakfast, after all.”
Shit. He’d forgotten to pick something up on the way, and cooking was out of the question with the kitchen remodel in progress. The stove had already been ripped out and the only appliances that worked were a mini-fridge he brought over from his apartment and Honey’s ancient microwave.
“Actually,” he said, “I think it’s the place down the street’s turn to cook. You like Chinese food, right? They deliver.”
“I love Chinese.”
Within an hour they were seated on his couch, watching eighties action flicks and stuffing their faces with eggrolls, fried rice, and orange chicken.
They talked for hours and in the rare moments of silence, they nestled deep in each other’s arms in solace, taking in each other’s warmth. He wasn’t exactly the cuddle-on-the-couch type, but the hours flew by and it wasn’t until midnight that they decided to call it a night and go to bed.
They’d only made it to the hallway, when the last of his restraint vanished. He tugged her arm, pulling her to a stop and then kissed her long and hard. He had a taste for her, a hunger that couldn’t be satiated. Trapped in the throes of this newly-discovered desire for Kitty, he quaked with the need to show her more…show her everything.
She moaned as he nibbled at her ear. He kissed her down her neck to her collarbone, stopping every so often to return to her sweet lips. Her tousled red hair smelled of strawberries and cream, and she tasted every bit as good as she smelled. When her soft hands traveled down his chest, over his stomach, and lower, his adrenaline pumped into overdrive.
“I want to do very, very, dirty things to you, Kitty,” he said in a coarse whisper.
“Yeah?” she breathed. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
He nipped at her porcelain neck.
“Yes.”
Kitty pulled her tank top off over her head and threw it onto the floor. Ever so slowly, Mike kissed, nipped, and licked her, from her neck to her perfect breasts, down to her navel. He pulled her leggings to the floor and then toyed with the edge of her panties, running his fingers slowly over her soft skin, tracing the v between her thighs. He could feel the wet heat already gathering there and groaned.
And just when he gripped the sides of her panties, prepared to tug them down her long, slender legs, a loud buzzing distracted them both, pulling them out of the moment.
“Is that a vibrator in your pocket just in case?” Kitty teased.
Mike looked up, her words barely penetrating the sound of the blood rushing in his ears, coming back to eye level with Kitty. It took a second to comprehend what she was saying and then another to identify the sound.
His cell phone.
“No, it’s my phone,” he said.
“Can you turn it off?” she asked, tracing a finger over his jaw before sliding her arms around his neck and gently pushing the top of his head back towards her stomach.
The buzzing stopped.
“Hell yes. That can wait. You cannot,” Mike said, leaning down to kiss her again.
Just before he could get back down to where he left off, the phone started buzzing again. He shot his head up and let out a string of curse words.
“Give me one second. It’s late and it might be an emergency.”
His twin had called him once by satellite phone and had said contact would be minimal, but the thought that he might need something would distract him unless he checked.
She nodded, but her expression was dubious at best, and the heat that had been radiating from her blue eyes cooled.
“Yeah, sure. I understand.”
He shoved a hand into his pocket and yanked out his phone to peer down at the text lighting the screen, hoping it wasn’t Rick so he could just turn the damned thing off and focus on Kitty.
I need you. Call me ASAP
“Everything all right?” Kitty asked, making an obvious attempt at not invading his privacy by keeping her gaze trained on a spot over his shoulder rather than peeking down at the phone.
“I don’t know.” He jammed a hand through his hair and ran through his options. “It’s Ashley. You remember her from high school?”
“Ashley Collins? Yeah.”
And judging by the expression on her face, she also remembered that both he and Ashley had gotten suspended their senior year when they got caught having sex under the bleachers when they were supposed to be in gym class.
This was bad. Real bad.
He opened his mouth to try to explain when the phone buzzed again, three more times in quick succession.
If you don’t come quickly, I don’t know what he’ll do. Please…
“Look, why don’t you go ahead with whatever you need to do with Ashley and I’ll head home,” Kitty said with a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You can give me a call tomorrow or something.”
She turned and made her way down the hall, dressing as she went. He watched her go, his thoughts swarming like a hive of restless bees.
Shit.
He wished he could explain but Ashley’s secret wasn’t his to tell. Her deadbeat boyfriend had been threatening her for months now and had finally gone off the deep end and slapped her the week before. If he was blackout drunk, there’s no telling what he could do. Hell, the only reason he was walking around as a free man now and not locked up behind bars was because Mike hadn’t been able to convince her to call the police on him. And he would continue to walk free, ready, willing and able to mete out the pain.
Unless Mike went over to stop him.
Ashley had been a friend long after their days behind the bleachers and he had to go help her.
Still, he owed Kitty some sort of explanation. And, for some reason, the thought of walking back into the house later and not having her there made his guts churn.
He rushed back into the living room and took
Kitty’s shoulder just as she was bending low to don her sneakers.
“Look, I know this seems bad but I swear, it’s not. Just, please, promise me you’ll stick around, okay? I’ll be quick. Back before you know it.”
She gnawed on her bottom lip and nodded reluctantly.
“Okay.”
Relief washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by concern for his friend. He threw on his shoes and a jacket, grabbed his car keys and hightailed it out the door.
* * *
Three AM and Kitty was sprawled out on Mike’s childhood bed, watching the ceiling fan go around. Her head spun faster than the blades and had been for hours.
She wanted to believe that it was nothing, but this was exactly what Mike was notorious for. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time that he sweet-talked a girl’s panties off and then bounced.
But then why had he insisted she stay?
Because he wanted to have his cake and eat it too.
Correction. He wants to have his ex and eat you too, her subconscious bleated.
The thought made the acid in her stomach roil.
He had looked concerned. But if it was something innocent, why hadn’t he explained what it was? And why wasn’t he back yet? It had been hours and he hadn’t even had the courtesy to call.
She sighed, wishing she could work up a head of steam. Some anger at him that would give her the strength to get up and walk out. But if there was anyone to blame here, it was her. Her mother had warned her about guys like Mike. Guys like her father. Like leaves in the wind. Rolling whichever way the wind blew. He’d never made her any promises beyond a good time. Damn her for wishing it could be more than that.
It was a whirlwind week and somehow he’d swept her off her feet. But she was the one who hadn’t kept those feet planted firmly on the ground. Shame on her for forgetting herself and for forgetting who Mike really was. The love ‘em and leave ‘em Blade who’d never settle down. Nothing like the safe, stable man she needed in her life.
This was exactly the wakeup call she needed to bring her back down to earth. She collected her things and then scoured his desk until she found a pen and ripped a sheet of copy paper out of his printer. Then, armed with the still full bottle of wine that she’d brought over, she sat down at his coffee table.
Mike-
Thanks for the great time the past couple days, but I’ve got head back to the city. Don’t worry, I’ll find someone to finish the work on the yard, no charge.
-Kaitlin
She dropped the note on the table, tucked the wine under her arm, and headed for the door.
It was fine. Everything was going to be just fine.
She stepped out into the cool, summer rain and jogged to her mom’s house, straight to her room. It took a few minutes of riffling through stacks of boxed up clothes, dresses, and memorabilia from high school, but she eventually found it folded up just beneath her graduation gown.
Mike’s leather jacket.
Looking at it, feeling it for the first time in years, a rush of emotion made her throat go achy. She’d long since had it dry cleaned, but for some reason, hadn’t been able to bring herself to give it back to him, no matter how mad he made her.
Now the sight of it made her want to vomit again.
Clearly, the lack of sleep the past few days was making her overly emotional. Hell, it wasn’t like she was in love with the guy.
She ran back to Honey’s house, resisting the urge to sniff the jacket one more time. There was a tiny little kernel of hope in her heart—a foolish one—that believed he would be back waiting for her when she walked in.
But he wasn’t.
She laid his jacket on the coffee table and put the note on top, hoping it was enough to let him know she needed a clean break. He might be able to go back to the love/hate friendship they’d had before, but she was forever changed. Things would never be the same between them. Better not to drag it out.
She’d get an hour of shut-eye and, before first light, she’d call Cheri and make sure her friend could come and water her mom’s plants. Then, she’d be free and clear of this town for a while.
And someday soon, if she tried hard enough to forget him…his scent…his touch…it would be like Michael Blade had never even existed.
Chapter Nine
In a smoke-filled pub called O’Malley’s in the middle of town, Mike stared into the bottom of his lukewarm beer he’d been nursing for an hour. A position he’d been in far too often since the morning he’d come home from Ashley’s to find his jacket and Kaitlin’s note on his coffee table.
Even now, four days later, the memory of it made the bile rise in his throat. At first, he’d convinced himself he was relieved. He’d been about to make a big mistake and start talking about commitment. Hell, she’d probably just saved him the trouble of an awkward talk at the end of the summer when he realized he’d been wrong. He’d tried to bury himself in the reno at his grandmother’s again and forget about her, but his heart just wasn’t in it.
So he’d turned to the bike shop, putting Honey’s house on hold until he could get his head on straight. He’d been useless there too, though. And, after screwing up the paint job on a custom Fat Boy Lo, his buddy and employee Reese had begged him to take a couple days off.
Now he was here. Again. On his second pint of cheap beer, wondering why something that used to seem like fun now felt hollow.
So yeah, maybe Kitty had been more than just a hookup. She was the girl next door. The girl he’d known since he was ten years old. But what really tore him apart more than anything was the fucking note.
He knocked back the dregs of his beer and set his glass back on the bar with a clack.
Eighteen years ago, before he and Rick moved into his grandmother’s house permanently, his mom had brought them over to Honey’s to visit. Not unusual. She’d drop them off for Honey to babysit them before going out on the town, or on a date with some guy, sometimes for days at a time. Hell, sometimes they’d have to stay there for weeks at a time if she got evicted from her apartment, or had a breakup with whatever guy was beating up on her at the time.
She’d come back to get them, head hanging low, a couple new bruises on her arms, maybe a chipped tooth or a black eye. But she’d always come back for them.
This time was different though.
This time, she wasn’t coming back.
The next morning they awoke to find Grandma Honey in the living room crying. She held a piece of paper in her hand that she crumpled up as soon as they walked in.
She wouldn’t tell them what was wrong or what it said, but a week later while Grandma was out getting groceries, Mike snuck into her room. In her nightstand under a stack of junk mail, he found the wadded up note and read it.
It was something he’d regretted seeing every day of his life.
Please take care of little Rick and Michael. I’m no good for them.
Strange how this whole thing with Kitty brought him full circle. He’d run out on her to help a friend so she wouldn’t stay in an abusive situation like the ones his mother always found herself in. And then walked back into the house to find a note.
A fucking note.
Right or wrong, it had torn open an ancient wound that had scabbed over but never truly healed. How could she walk away so easily? With no explanation. No chance to let him explain. Just empty words and a jacket that, for some reason, he had worn today, in spite of the heat.
“Michael Blade?” a woman’s voice murmured from behind him.
He whipped around in his stool, his pulse rocketing for a second until he saw who it was. He recognized the pretty blonde, but couldn’t put a name to the face.
“Hey. Good to see you, ummm…”
The girl laughed, “You don’t remember me? Tiffany. Tiffany Wallace.”
Now he recognized her. They’d dated for a short time – actually, dated was a bit generous; they screwed for like a week – right after he graduated high school. Sh
e had just moved into town and they’d hooked up at a club in town. He thought she had moved away awhile ago
“Oh yeah,” he said, trying to muster a shred of enthusiasm. “How are you, Tiffany? Long time no see.”
“I’m great! Just in town visiting some old friends. You look, like, really good Mikey. Like…really good,” she said, eyeing him up and down, her gaze lingering on his biceps.
“Thanks, Tiff. You look great, too,” he said with as polite of a smile as he could manage given the fact that he wanted nothing more than for her to leave.
She paused for a moment, twirling a long lock of golden hair.
“Say, Mike,” her tone was laced with seduction, “I don’t have to meet up with my friends until later tonight. You wanna maybe get out of here? Catch up a little.” She added a not so subtle wink that would’ve had the Mike of just a couple weeks ago cocked, locked and ready to fire.
She was beautiful. No doubt about it. Her hourglass figure and soft blonde hair were the things dreams were made of. She had long, tan legs that made the distance from her red, six-inch heels to the bottom of her short, black dress seem like miles. Maybe getting out of here and “catching up” would help him take his mind off of Kitty.
Kitty.
He thought back to their last night together, and shook his head slowly.
“I’m sorry, Tiffany. I’m not interested,” he finally said.
“Not interested?” she asked with a harsh laugh that made her look a lot less pretty than she’d been a moment before. “Since when is Michael Blade not interested in sex?”
“Since now, with you,” he replied, more annoyed with himself than her, for exactly the same reason. Since when wasn’t he interested in sex?
Since Kitty. How had his redheaded neighbor burrowed so deeply under his thick skin so fast? And how the hell was he going to get her out?
But Tiffany was unaware of his internal struggle and leaned in, one hand cocked on her hip.
“Um, excuse me?” Tiffany’s cheeks turned beet red. “You’re a real asshole, Blade--”
