Kissing Katie: A Kissing Novel

by L. T. Kelly

  With her intentions placed firmly back on track, a sad smile crept across her lips. “Now, why would you want a sad old cow like me? From what I’ve seen tonight, you’re about to have the world served up to you on a plate. Soon enough, you’ll have supermodels throwing themselves at your feet. You’re going to be a rock god.” Her smile widened as she watched him laugh.

  “I happen to know that being a rock god, as you call it, isn’t all it’s made out to be.”

  “How would you know that?” She tipped her head to one side, still grinning at him, relaxing and enjoying herself now that she’d made her intentions known.

  His smile vanished in an instant. The eyes that had been intent on her all night drew away, as if he were visiting somewhere else in his mind. His lips pressed together and twitched before he spoke. “I just do. You’ll have to trust me on that one.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, not wanting to push him more. What she’d said had clearly struck a chord, and it sounded like a bum note. She sipped the champagne, enjoying its coolness and the fizz before it glided down her throat, making her mouth arid before a burst of flavor.

  Seeming to come back to her, he waved a dismissive hand. “None of all that matters anyway. I don’t want a supermodel, Katie. I want you.”

  She laughed heartily at his sentiment, and the warmth of it rose up to heat her cheeks. The feel of his desire enveloped her. She allowed it to wash over her and basked in the serenity of it before batting it away again.

  He leaned toward her and took her hand. His face so close to hers she felt the tickle of his breath on her lips. The natural desire to slam her mouth against his almost made her to do it. Her sex tingled, a feeling so divine she wanted to bottle it and save it up for later when she could be alone and at least put it to good use. She remained close to him, his breathing picking up as she studied his irises, glossy like the morning dew on a leaf.

  “You may think that now, but I’ll be old news soon enough. You’ve got your whole successful life ahead of you, and what I’ve got is still beautiful but my heart is scarred beyond repair.”

  Emotion built in her throat, threatening to strangle her. She sat back, taking her hand away from his and tipped the glass to her lips, downing the contents.

  “There we go, Evan. One drink.” She choked on her words as she fought back the tears threatening behind her eyes.

  She figured he knew something was amiss because he didn’t push her for more information, just as she hadn’t pushed him. He merely nodded and stood to drive her home as he’d promised.

  There was only one car in the parking lot, a sleek, black sports car.

  “Wow, check this out. I’m glad it’s the middle of the night, or this would get my neighbors talking.” She chuckled, glad for something to break the ice after the emotional conversation they’d had. Her laugh rang out high-pitched and nervous when he didn’t respond. He opened the door and ushered her inside.

  * * * *

  Evan glanced over once he’d driven out of the parking lot. Katie’s lips were pursed as though she were lost in thought. His stomach rolled, hoping she was preoccupied with changing her mind. He couldn’t figure out what enamored him so much about her. What was making him chase her so hard and want her so much? His dick twitched when a vision of her body against his popped into his mind. He came to a stop at the lights and shook his head.

  “Don’t you want to know where I live?” she asked, amusement lacing her words.

  “Yeah, I guess that would help.” He forced a lopsided smile, still trying to play it cool. She told him to turn left and stared out of the windshield once more. He couldn’t stop himself from inspecting her profile. Her cheekbones were high and permanently rosy, her full lips smoothed with an inviting glossy sheen.

  “Fuck.” He slammed both hands against the steering wheel. Katie jumped and turned to look at him with wide eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” she breathed.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t want to say goodbye, that’s all.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I just want to be friends. I’m not available for anything else.”

  Silence thickened the air inside the car. Evan jumped when she unexpectedly expelled a bitter bark of laugher.

  “Sorry,” she said, turning to look at him.

  “What you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that if I did want a relationship, you’d be my ideal man, except for the age gap, of course.”

  “Seriously, you go on like you’re fifty years old or something. Exactly how old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-nine. I turn thirty in October.”

  “Well, I turn twenty-two in a few months, too. It’s hardly a huge age gap.”

  “It’s not entirely about the age gap. It’s about the level of responsibility.”

  “What responsibility would that be then?” He doubted her job cleaning rooms at the hotel was what she referred to.

  “It’s complicated to explain, and I’m tired right now. Turn right here.”

  He switched on the blinkers and turned off the main road, curious to the point of infuriation, but not wanting to push her too hard. “That implies that you’ll tell me one day.”

  “Stick around, agree to make this…” She waved a finger between him and her. “Platonic. And yes, I guess, you’ll find out.”

  He nodded once. “I agree, as long as you promise not to dismiss a relationship altogether.” He cringed when she sighed heavily.

  “Pull over.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is where I live, duh.” She laughed.

  “Oh, right,” he said, feeling a little dumb as he pulled the car alongside the curb. “Am I really going to see you again?”

  “Yes, I work where you’re staying, remember?” She grinned revealing her teeth and cocked her head before tugging at the door handle.

  His dick ached as he watched her movements. She look so sweet, her big, blue eyes shone in the streetlights and illuminated her smooth skin.

  “When are you back in work?” He squirmed and swallowed hard as her legs parted to place one foot outside the car.

  “Tomorrow, and I’m crap at being on time as it is. Thanks for tonight. I really enjoyed myself.” She leaned across and grazed her lips over his cheek. The touch of her mouth inspired an eruption of bright colors in his mind. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Maybe, you will; maybe, you won’t.” She winked.

  He watched her walk to her door, retrieve her keys from her bag then go inside.

  As soon as she disappeared from sight, he let his head rest between his hands on the steering wheel, suddenly exhausted. He couldn’t stay there all night waiting for her to reappear in the morning, and his eyes were already beginning to close against his will. He shifted into gear and spun the car around in her street as a window illuminated brightly in the upstairs of her house.

  Friends it was then, the story of his life.

  Chapter Five

  “You’re early, lad.” Al greeted Evan at his front door rubbing his eyes.

  “Sorry to wake you. I did say first thing.”

  “Yeah, first thing, not the middle of the bloody night. Come in.”

  Al led Evan into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. “Do you want anything?” Al asked, half-yawning as he spoke.

  “No, thanks.”

  Al turned to face him, leaning against the kitchen counter. “That didn’t sound too convincing. What’s up with you?”

  “Ah, it’s nothing.”

  “Come on, lad. Spit it out.”

  Evan shifted from one foot to the other, wondering if his request would be too painful for Al to bear. “I wondered if it would be cool for you to tell me more about my dad?”

  “Why didn’t you ask?” Al’s eyes crinkled around the edges, creases fanned out across his worn face. “There’s nothing I love more than talking about Ricky and the good ole days.”

  “When did you two meet?” he asked, relaxing enough to lean ag
ainst the counter opposite Al and fold his arms across his chest.

  “Ah, well, like Alex and you, we met at school. We were in the same class from age five in a mining village in north Yorkshire. But we didn’t become friends until we went to high school together. We were always up to mischief, your dad and me.” He chuckled and looked skywards as though picturing fond memories.

  “Anyway,” he waved a hand around and shook his head, “we were both October babies, like you, so we made a pact to ask for guitars for our fifteenth birthdays and form a band. It was the mid-seventies and all the rage. We struggled, I can tell ya. Both of our dads worked the pits, and there weren’t much money about. We were both threatened with a good walloping if we didn’t learn properly.”

  Evan laughed. “I guess those guitars were their best ever investments.”

  “Tell me about it. They certainly were thankful when Thatcher waded in and took their jobs in the eighties. We signed with Spirit Records then and became an overnight success. We managed to pay off their mortgages before the banks repossessed in 1985. God rest their souls.” Al sighed heavily and turned back to the kettle to knock up his morning coffee. “You sure I can’t get you anything?”

  “I’m cool thanks. So how did Johnny and Paul fit in?” He wanted to know about the other two members of Monument. His mother knew the whole story but refused to tell him anything or discuss Monument at all. She’d even changed his surname to her maiden name, Waters, when he was still small. She said she'd made that decision to protect his identity, but she’d never done anything to protect him, and he doubted that was the real reason.

  He planned on taking full advantage of this situation with Al. He’d had questions whirring around his head for as long as he could remember, and he figured it would take years to ask them all.

  Al threw back his head and cackled, spilling sugar out on the counter as his hand shook. “Well, that is a funny story.” He spoke over his shoulder. “Your dad and I had written a huge collection of songs. Our ears had been slapped thick for all the noise we’d made learning to play those guitars. So, we practiced in any field, moor or play park we could find. The first year, we had to tape up our fingers with plasters because the guitars were cheap as chips, and the strings would make our fingers bleed. Of course, we got used to it eventually.”

  Al took a deep breath, his back turned, and Evan swore the old man was crying. Al’s hand came up off the counter to his face for a moment before reaching out for the kettle and pouring boiling water into his cup. After another long steady intake of breath, Al turned to face him, coffee mug in hand. “We knew we needed a drummer and keyboardist to complete us. By this point, we were about to leave school. We had pressure on us to sign up to work down the mine, and neither of us wanted that. We’d worked too hard for two and a half years.”

  Evan nodded, feeling a tug in his chest. He’d never had to do any of that. The only person who’d try to pull him away from music had been his mother. She'd actually been the one who pushed him into it. The more she tried to drag him back, the more he’d wanted it. This man and his father’s best efforts and hardships had seen to it that Evan had enough money to go for his career with all that he had. If it weren’t for the trust fund, he wouldn’t be standing there now.

  “I’m sorry, man,” Evan said, his voice cracking as he took in the man’s dark-blue, red-rimmed eyes.

  Al waved a hand. “It’s part of who we were, lad, and the time we came from, no bother. Anyway, Johnny and Paul were both in another band. Your dad and I figured the best way to recruit the missing parts were to visit the local pubs and working men’s clubs. We came up with the plan to pretend our drummer and keyboardists had gone off to join record-selling bands but that we had loads of gigs lined up that we wouldn’t be able to play without them. If I’m honest, the hardest part was getting into the bloody places. We were only seventeen.”

  “Shit, man, I bet they were pissed when they found out you were lying.”

  Al tittered. “Nope, lad. There were a shit ton of gigs after that. We had a load of auditions, telling poor Johnny and Paul we had to audition again because there were new members. Your dad and I pretended to be nineteen and finished most sets shit-faced.”

  Evan chuckled, shaking his head. “I can imagine.”

  “So there you have it, we played gigs closer and closer to London and signed in 1983 when we were the same age as you are now.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Thanks for what?”

  “For telling me all that, reliving it. It means a lot to me.”

  “Trust me, lad. You owe me nothing.”

  “Yeah, I do. I owe you guys big time. I wouldn’t be standing here if it hadn’t been for Monument. Don’t you ever think I’ll forget that, because I never will.”

  “Soon enough, you’ll be making your own history, lad. I hope I’ll be a part of it.”

  “I’m sure you will be, if you want to be, that is.”

  Al nodded toward Evan, meaning sparkling in his deep-blue eyes as he did. “The pleasure would be all mine.”

  * * * *

  “Hey, Rupy, how’s it going?” Katie watched the man stopping for a rest, his new prosthetic stuck out from beneath his shorts. She stood in front of him and gave him the look that asked for permission to touch. Rupy shot her a pained expression. He was less than impressed with his new limb—she recognized it on his face. She also knew that's how they all felt.

  She hunkered down and pulled up the fabric of Rupy’s shorts to examine the stump inserted into the plastic cup of the prosthetic leg.

  “Okay,” she said gently. “It looks a little sore.” That appeared to be an understatement. He’d been pushing himself way too hard. His bright-pink skin looked leathery with exertion. “This is completely normal though,” she said, peering up at him. “Especially if you’re overdoing it.” She stood, sucking in a breath at the same time. “Which it looks like you are. Is there any reason for that?”

  His fantastic, golden-hazel eyes turned away from her to face the wall.

  “It’s for my fiancée.”

  “Rupy, I don’t mean to sound like a bitch, but it’s only a leg. You’re still a stunner.”

  Rupy tried to hold back a snicker, but it released all the same. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t undo your hard work for a girl. If she can’t work with you on this, it’s not worth it. Take it easy, yeah?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Rupy was dear to her, and he’d been there that day, the day that Lee had been taken from her. Simply being near him, helping him literally get back on his feet, meant something to her, even if he didn’t know it. She volunteered her physiotherapy expertise once a week in order to feel as though she could make a difference in someone’s life, and it didn’t do any harm to keep her registration up-to-date either. Since Lee had been taken from her she found it hard to be around reminders of the injuries soldiers had inflicted upon them. It had taken her a long time to even get as far as stepping inside the rehabilitation center.

  She scooped an arm around his waist to aid him back to his room.

  “You know my name isn’t Rupy, right?”

  She giggled and stared straight ahead. “Yeah, I know it’s what your men called you. It’s short for Rupert or an officer,” she said slightly breathless, struggling with taking some of the muscular, six-feet-three man’s weight.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I used to know a Rupert.”

  He stopped partway down the corridor and looked straight into her face. “Yeah? What’s his last name? I might know him.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered as her stomach spun like a washing machine and tears bit behind her eyes. She recognized the familiar look of pity—pity from a man afflicted with one leg for the rest of his life.

  “Enough chatter. Come on, let’s get you back before I’m accused of being late.”

  She aided him back to his room, ordering him to take as much weight off the pros
thetic as possible. It was important to remind him to concentrate on walking before running. The guys were always so filled with admirable determination that she made it part of her job to ensure they weren’t overdoing it. That would only set them back.

  She headed for the gym next. The sweet scent of fresh sweat and hard graft made her nostrils flare, and her eyes close. Aside from lilies, it was her favorite smell.

  “Hey, darling, don’t just stand there. We’ve been waiting for ya.”

  She grinned as she looked across the gym, one of the best things about coming here once a week.

  Each time she laid eyes on the Maori personal trainer, she kicked herself for not being attracted to him in the least. He’d always been the sweetest person she’d ever met. He adored her.

  “Were you waiting for me for?” she called out and offered him a smile.

  “What are we always waiting for?” He held out both arms as his shoulders hunched into a shrug.

  It had taken her months of listening to him to be able to understand him without having to concentrate on every single word he said. She was positive he’d added to her deepening frown line.

  “Come on, Mountain. Not this again,” she huffed, feeling her cheeks pink up.

  The lads’ eyes were on her as she crossed the room. Some utilized the gym equipment, some lay on exercise mats, and the aptly nicknamed Mountain, in the middle of the gym, oversaw it all.

  “You’re the only hottie around here.”

  A wolf whistle rang out in the gym, and Mountain’s thick neck spun to find the offender.

  “Oi, kid, get on with your work,” Mountain snapped.

  Katie giggled when she observed the young lad’s puce face and the sheer terror in his eyes. He stopped momentarily before continuing to exercise his legs on the static bike with one arm steadying him on the handle bar. The other one had been blown off.