Saving Kylie: A Small Town Second Chance Romance

by Taryn Quinn

  It wasn’t the first time he’d come by since Thanksgiving. He’d visited several times, in fact, and he’d always spent a few moments shooting the breeze with her over his usual Harp. Their interactions had been friendly and easy, despite that mad fluttering thing that tended to happen in her belly whenever he was within shouting distance.

  But the look on his face now… Well, there wasn’t anything merely friendly about it.

  Before he could order, she was pulling his Harp. She set it in front of him and took an extra moment to straighten the coaster beneath his glass. “Happy New Year, Justin.”

  He smiled and slid two brightly colored envelopes toward her. “Christmas and New Year’s,” he explained before taking the first sip. “I missed Christmas.”

  Warmth spread under her breastbone as she thumbed open the first envelope. “It’s okay. I figured you were busy.”

  In truth, she’d figured he’d moved on. Love was a fleeting, fickle bitch, and she didn’t often abide a vacuum.

  Or holidays spent alone.

  “I was out of town actually but not too busy. I just lost track of time, and I wanted to give them to you in person. The post office’s a racket.”

  She giggled and tugged out the Christmas card. It was the typical Justin-style potty humor, complete with a reindeer with big fake breasts and light-up red bulbs where the nipples should be. The New Year’s card was more of the same.

  They’d both be hung up in her apartment before the night was through.

  “Thank you. I love them.” Going with impulse, she leaned across the bar and planted a kiss on his cheek. She mistakenly inhaled a whiff of his spicy soap and nearly purred. “I hope you had a nice Christmas,” she added as she slipped back.

  “It wasn’t bad. I spent it with my aunt and uncle in Canton. It had been a few years since I’d seen them and…and you really don’t care about any of this, do you?”

  “Of course I do.” She bobbed her head like the marionette she felt like she’d become.

  His scruff was more pronounced, almost a short beard. And had he gained more muscles since she’d seen him last? His chest and stomach looked even more defined through his Henley shirt. Unless her hormone-addled brain was filling in details yet again.

  His smile lit through her like a sparkler. “You’ve never been a good liar, Fish.”

  “Busted.”

  “So what do you care about, if not Christmases spent with the family?”

  Something about the challenge in his blue eyes made her bold. Plus it was New Year’s Eve, a night meant for risks. Even so, she shouldn’t blur the lines. They’d done well for the last month, talking like friends and not pushing their luck. She’d found a therapist she thought she might like, and from what Justin had told her, he was seeing a counselor of his own. They hadn’t delved into any of that, because casual pals wouldn’t.

  But former lovers who happened to be in lo—to have feelings for each other should. Absolutely.

  And if they made a farking mess of the whole thing? She had her steak and champagne.

  She wet her lips, flexing her flirt muscle. Amazing how quickly the damn thing got lax. “You got a date for tonight, Norton?”

  He sipped, taking his slow time answering. She tapped her fingers on the bar in a clear “hurry it up” gesture, and he still didn’t rush through his beer. “Funny you should ask that,” he drawled, a slow smile overtaking his face. “Since I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

  Oh, thank God.

  She tossed her rag on the bar and pulled up the walkthrough, making him laugh at her haste. “I’m officially off the clock.”

  “Is that so?”

  “That’s so.” She glanced back, remembering her purse. And that she hadn’t punched out. “Or I will be, in five minutes. Wait here,” she said, snatching her cards as she went.

  He laughed again. “Waiting.”

  Just in case his idea of a date meant she wouldn’t have time to go home and change, she switched her work T-shirt for a baby blue one she had in her locker and brushed her hair. She still reeked of alcohol, but a few dabs of her sultry perfume and she considered herself presentable.

  Her left ankle inexplicably started twinging again as she walked back out to the bar. It hadn’t hurt in weeks. Weird.

  He noticed her sudden limp and set aside his half-drunk beer. “You all right?”

  “Old war injury.” At his laugh, she shrugged it off.

  She was just nervous, and her body was already reacting to his nearness. She would’ve expected stomach fluttering or damp panties or even a stress headache, but she’d always been on the odd side.

  “If you’re sure you’re okay.” He stood and threw some bills on the bar, and then offered her his arm. “Want to take my Jeep?”

  She’d figured they’d take two cars, just in case. Which was probably silly. He’d been her friend for a long time. Whatever happened, she trusted him to get her home safely.

  “Unless you’d rather not—”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m just being dumb.” She smiled and tipped back her head to look at him. Since he was already looking down at her, she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Or walk.

  Luckily she managed to grip his arm despite her mental fog, and he propelled her forward out the door into a soft, misty rain. “Caution isn’t dumb.”

  “Maybe not, but we’re still friends. We don’t need to take separate cars.”

  He stopped under a streetlight at the edge of the parking lot, seemingly oblivious to the water slicking down the sides of his face. She sure wasn’t oblivious, because she wanted to follow those twin trails down his jaw with her tongue.

  Friends, remember? Very special friends.

  “We both know I don’t think of you as just a friend, Kylie.” He tucked his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “I haven’t for a long time.”

  That warmth was back in her chest, this time flashing into her face and all the points in between. “You’ve done a good job of being my friend this past month,” she said lightly.

  “No, I haven’t. For the most part I’ve stayed away because I don’t know how to be near you and not kiss you.” He lowered his voice until it caressed her as thoroughly as if he was running his lips up her spine. “Not make love to you. In two days, you destroyed the conception of you I’d had all these years that had helped me keep my distance.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Well, that and your commitment ring.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “Dare I ask what that whole conception thing means?”

  “I thought we didn’t have as much in common behind the bedroom door as we did in front of it. Which was wrong. It’s also wrong I started this conversation in the damn rain.” Shaking his head, he guided her toward his Jeep. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  Both her pulse and her brain raced in tandem. As much as she ached to be alone with him, she wasn’t sure she could keep from spilling her feelings if she sat near him in candlelight. Feelings that had skipped way past caring and honed in on love the instant she’d left his Jeep on Thanksgiving and realized what she was walking away from.

  Maybe everything wasn’t perfect yet—dueling therapy appointments and all—but oh, the possibilities…

  She could work with possibilities.

  As they approached his vehicle, she placed her hand on his arm. “Why don’t we go to my apartment? I have a big steak and baked potatoes and champagne and—” His smile made her stop babbling. “Sorry. Kylie’s cup runneth over. You know.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’ve missed you.” He jingled his keys and appeared to weigh something in his mind. Then he nodded. “Yeah. That sounds good. I made reservations just in case, but I think alone’s better. I wasn’t sure you’d want to with me yet.”

  “Wait, what ‘want to’ are we talking about? Because if it resides in the same dirty zone where my mind just went, the answer is yes, forever and always. Don’t forget the rubber sheets.”

  His smile
turned into a full-blown laugh as he opened her door. “I meant being alone without any witnesses. But please don’t hold back your gutter thoughts on my account.”

  She grinned and slipped inside the Jeep. All at once the familiar scent of his air freshener mixed with his soap wafted over her, and her eyes pricked with tears.

  God, she’d missed him.

  He got behind the wheel, and she gave him directions to her new place in nearby Crescent Cove. He remained silent while they climbed the steps to her third-floor walk-up apartment, and she had to temper her urge to fill the silence with chatter. Instead she bit her lower lip and led him through her modified studio. It had a living room, an alcove for her bed and dresser and nightstand, a galley-style kitchen, and a decent-sized bathroom. All the basics, no frills. But it was hers, and she was so proud of how far she’d come.

  “Check out the huge closet.” She swept back her arm to reveal the space she’d crammed with clothes and other stuff she really needed to weed through someday. “Nice, huh?”

  “Very.”

  “And did you see the oven? Of course it’s not fancy like yours.” She rushed back into the kitchen, well aware that her mouth had yet again shot into overdrive.

  Luckily he made the appropriate noises of appreciation and didn’t ask her why she was acting as if they’d just met rather than been…friends for years. Additional proof that the man could be too sweet for words.

  “So I’ll, ah, make dinner now.” She pulled open the refrigerator door and started loading ingredients in her arms. “I can pop the champagne, and you can go watch TV if you’d like. Sorry, I only get the basic stations—”

  “I’ll stay right here if you don’t mind.” He shed the jacket she realized she’d never offered to take and hung it off the back of a kitchen chair before sprawling across the seat. “So we can talk while you cook for me. Which is damn sexy, by the way, even if that sets me back twenty years for saying so.”

  She couldn’t fight the flush she knew stained her cheeks. “I think we can give the women’s lib movement a break tonight. Besides, you’ve cooked for me. Deliciously, I might add. Don’t get your hopes up.” She wagged a finger. “I’m no whiz like you.”

  His grin almost made her lose her grip on the bottle of champagne she’d just grabbed. “I think we’ll do just fine.”

  By the time they were sitting across from each other at her small table with a strawberry votive candle between them and the exquisite scent of steak fragrancing the air, her nerves had vanished. This was Justin, and she wouldn’t act odd just because she happened to be in love with him. That point might not even matter, depending on what he had to say.

  Though she hoped it did. She hoped so very much.

  The conversation meandered from Justin’s school to Christmas break to the great deal she’d gotten on her new place. It was in a building right on Main Street with a coffee shop, Brewed Awakening, on the main level. All safe topics.

  When he mentioned stopping by his parents’ on his way out of town on Christmas Eve, she smiled politely and tried not to look too overeager. She wasn’t Dr. Templeton, her new therapist, but she was reasonably sure his voluntary visit to their house had to be a good sign.

  “My counselor suggested I go over again, to try to familiarize myself with their life now and stop looking for parallels to the past.” His wry tone as he forked up baked potato slathered in butter said a lot about his opinion on that. “I’m not in charge of the world. They have their own lives, and loving someone doesn’t mean I have to agree with all their decisions. I just have to support my mom, and that includes her choice of husband.”

  She tried not to react. “And you’re okay with that?”

  He rubbed his face, and when he removed his hand, she noted the blessed lack of lines around his eyes. For once, he didn’t look exhausted. It had been a long while since she’d been able to say that about him. “Honestly? No. I’m just less okay with living every damn day with my stomach in knots, thinking today’s the day he’s going to hurt her again.”

  “Good,” she said carefully, setting down her fork. She’d practically inhaled her own meal, as had he minus his potato. He’d poked and prodded at it until she wanted to yank away his plate. “So you like your counselor?”

  Not therapist. He hadn’t yet used that word. It was always counselor. Whatever made it easier for him to deal with.

  “She’s okay.” He shrugged and went back to fiddling with the potato skin, finally cutting off a small piece and popping it in his mouth. “She talks a lot.”

  Her lips wiggled as she attempted valiantly not to smile. “That’s kind of her job.”

  “I thought the client was supposed to talk all the time, preferably while lying on a couch. Easier to spill secrets that way.”

  “Have you done that?”

  “No. Mainly because I don’t have a lot of them that are mine. The abuse…that was mostly my mom’s. There was verbal stuff with me, but the biggest thing was the fear of what would happen to her. I wasn’t afraid for me. Even when I was a little kid, I was sure I could take the bastard.”

  She gripped the seat of her chair to keep from rushing around the table to hug him. He might not have needed that—though she sure did—so she didn’t move. Barely even breathed. He’d started to open a valve, and she wasn’t going to do anything that might close it again before he’d gotten out what he had to.

  “My counselor’s gone through a lot of textbook crap with me. You know, how you can’t control an event, only your reaction to it. I went through most of that in school, and I think Lola finds it funny that I can recite most of it back to her before she even gets the words out. It’s different when it’s you, though.” He sighed and tossed his napkin next to his almost untouched glass of champagne. “Way fucking different.”

  “Night and day.”

  “Lola asked me if it was easier to lose my mom now, while she was still alive. I never saw it that way.” He blew out a breath. “I’m not ready to say goodbye to her yet.”

  “No. I know you’re not.”

  “So that means I need to stop listening to what I should do and start trying to do it. Not because it’ll help me pretend to get better. Because I want to be better. I want my mom in my life for real. I want to be her son again.” He shut his eyes. “I want a place where I can bring my girlfriend on family holidays, and for it to mean something.”

  My girlfriend.

  Kylie swallowed deeply. She wasn’t his yet. Maybe she wouldn’t ever be. But that possibility shimmered in front of her like a diamond, and she ached to grasp it with both hands.

  After they cleared up one more teensy thing.

  Though she felt a little guilty, she couldn’t help her keen interest in one point. “Lola?” she asked, striving to sound casual as she lifted her own glass.

  “Sorry. Dr. Sheen. She told me not to be so formal.”

  “I just bet she did,” Kylie muttered, knocking back half her champagne in one gulp. Even the explosion of bubbles in her belly didn’t smother her spurt of irritation. “Really, Lola? What kind of doctor’s name is that?”

  “She said—” He broke off and grinned. Flat out grinned. “Hey, you’re jealous.”

  “I am not.”

  “Are so.”

  She finished off the rest of her drink and relaxed in her chair. She might not be a big fan of drinking under most circumstances, but tonight it was definitely hitting the spot. “So what if I am?”

  He braced his forearms on the edge of the miniscule table and dazzled her with his smile. She wished she knew how to sketch, because she would’ve immortalized that carefree expression for all time. It had been so long since she’d seen it, she’d almost forgotten the joy his happiness gave her. “I think it’s fucking awesome.”

  She had to laugh. “You’re weird.”

  “No, it’s called having the shoe on the other foot. For so long I imagined you with your ex, and now you’re pissy about Lola. Christ, it makes my day. Hell
, my fricking year.”

  “Do I have a reason to be pissy about Lola?”

  “Absolutely none.” He held her gaze. “Do I have anyone to be jealous about anymore?”

  “No. Rob and I are completely finished. He’s moved on to his harem of sl—lovely ladies”—Justin suppressed a laugh—“and I’m living the high life, as you can see.”

  He glanced around and toasted her with his glass. “It seems like a pretty good life, all things considered.”

  “It is.”

  “The Cove is a great little town. And you’ve got that awesome view of Crescent Lake.” He gestured toward the living room. “I bet it’s amazing when the sun comes up, all that light over the water.”

  She laughed lightly. “Not this time of year, but yeah. It’s pretty sweet. And my neighbors are so fun. I’m already making friends here. One of them has a stripper pole.”

  He took a quick drink of his champagne. “I hope you become very good friends.” His eyes glinted teasingly.

  “We’re getting there. Luna reads tarot too.” It was Kylie’s turn to drink. “She told me I was in for a banner year.”

  “That so? I’m very glad to hear it.” He cleared his throat. “I met with someone else too,” he said after a moment.

  She wrapped her fingers around the stem of her glass and propped her chin on her other hand. “Listening.”

  “This guy, Van Burke, is into BDSM. He has a studio of sorts. I guess he does sex therapy, among other things.” Justin’s brows dipped low over his blue eyes. “He has the whole setup there. Except his playroom is right next to his counseling area,” he finished with a quiet laugh.

  The back of her neck tingled, and she bit her lip to hold back the stream of questions. Easy. One at a time. “What did he have to say? Or do?”

  Justin looked a little embarrassed himself. He quickly shook his head and tossed back the contents of his glass. “It wasn’t that kind of session. He got that I wasn’t there looking for instruction. It was actually Lola’s idea I visit him to discuss some of my—”