by Zoe York
“Why would I be nervous?”
Evie and Claire exchanged silent looks.
“Hello? Evie, what’s Mom alluding to?”
Her sister shrugged. “Oh, you know. Kyle’s always loved you, he’s the only man you’ve ever loved, yadda yadda yadda. Potential for great messiness. That kind of thing.”
Laney sighed and plunked her butt down on the couch next to her mother. “I promise you, Kyle and I are on the same page about that. We both want to move forward in our lives. And we want very different things. No one is going to get hurt.”
Claire cocked her head to the side. “Just how much have you two been talking? That’s some pretty heavy subject matter.”
“I know, I’m just as surprised as you. I wasn’t going to go there, but he told me a bit about his ex and how he’s been stuck in a bit of a loop. I have too, in a way, so it was cathartic to compare ruts.” Laney didn’t know how much she wanted to share with her mother and sister, but they had each been through so much more than her, that she didn’t feel right blowing them off once again as if they didn’t get it. They did, absolutely. “There was a guy that I was seeing. I broke up with him just before coming home. I wasn’t as nice to him as I should have been. I’ve just gotten so good at guarding myself that I didn’t notice when I went from being careful to actually using other people. So running into Kyle, and admitting that I had some unresolved issues there…it opened me up to other possibilities.”
Claire looked piqued, her mind obviously whirling between the possibility of more grandchildren and the likelihood of a once-again broken-hearted daughter.
“Not with Kyle, Mom. And not necessarily love, but just honest connections with people. I’m really looking forward to having dinner with an old friend tonight, and it’s been way too long since I’ve said that. I just need to meet some new Kyles in Chicago.”
Evie had been quietly putting away Pilates gear, listening with one ear but trying not to react in her usual big sister way. Laney looked up at her, giving her an official opportunity to comment. Evie nodded and smiled. “Hell, I’d like to meet some new Kyles here, too. I get it.”
“So…why not with Kyle, then?”
Laney sighed. “God, Mom, you’re giving me whiplash. There’s too much history. We live in different cities—different countries! We have divergent life goals. Why on earth would you want me to be with him?”
“Because he obviously makes you happy.”
And damned if that wasn’t the wildcard of truth. Laney shook her head. “That’s the worst reason I could think of.” She squeezed her mother’s hand and stood up, wanting to avoid the concern she would find on Claire’s face. “I let my happiness be wrapped up in Kyle once before. Never again. Not him, or anyone else.”
Kyle’s house smelled like oranges and wood fire. She stepped inside, shrugging off her winter coat, and made an appreciative sound that was rewarded with a quick hug and a kiss on the top of her head.
“Your place is pretty cozy for a construction site.” Laney kicked her boots to the black plastic tray next to the door and wandered into the living room. On the ottoman, a large three-wick candle flickered, bouncing waves of light off the shiny glass tray underneath it. Another tray had been placed on the rug in front of the wood stove, this one holding a bottle of red wine and two glasses. “Why, Kyle Nixon, are you looking to get lucky tonight?”
She turned and gave him an appraising look, which only lasted a few seconds before they both burst into laughter. Lips still twitching, Kyle waved her toward the couch and poured two glasses of wine. “I’m not looking for anything other than to be a good host, Laney Calhoun.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” she murmured, lifting the glass to her lips. After taking a sip, she tucked her feet under her bum and leaned back against the couch. “Where’s Buddy?”
“I took him to my parents’ farm for the night. He’s not exactly conducive to romance.”
“You didn’t need to—”
He shook his head. “I did it for me. I wanted you all to myself tonight.”
Oh. “I like Buddy.”
“I know.” Kyle stood a few feet away, arms crossed, an inscrutable look on his face.
Under his gaze, her skin felt hot and hypersensitive. “Stop staring at me. Do you need any help with dinner? It smells great.”
He smirked, then moved to the other end of the couch, sitting far enough away to give her personal space. His eyes, on the other hand, never left her face, and she blushed.
“So…this is really good wine.”
“I’m glad you like it. Do you remember Tyler West? He bought a defunct winery a few years ago and turned the business around with his brother’s help. This is their first widely distributed vintage.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you mean Go West Winery? That’s your friend Ty? Wow. Good for him. I read an article about the company a few months ago, but didn’t connect the name. It mentioned someone else, I thought.”
He nodded. “Probably Evan. He’s more the face of the company. Ty’s all about the grapes and the production process.”
“I admire that entrepreneurial spirit. I don’t even have the courage to open my own practice, let alone start a company from scratch.”
Kyle furrowed his brow. “You’re too hard on yourself, Laney. You have plenty of courage. You’ve moved to how many new places, all on your own?”
“It’s not the same thing.” She shook her head. “I’m talking about taking big risks, laying it all on the line. It’s just not in me to do that.”
A timer dinged in the kitchen, and Kyle stood up, but before he walked away he pinned her with a hard look. “It’s not such a big risk when you know it’s the real deal.”
Was he still talking about the winery? Her stomach clenched, and she didn’t know if she wanted him to be talking about her or not. Not. She pushed her hand flat against her abdomen and gave herself a mental shake.
“I’ve worked at the winery every summer since they bought the place, and never once did I doubt it would be a success.” Kyle continued talking as he moved around the kitchen, pulling a covered casserole dish from the oven and setting out plates and cutlery. “At one point they couldn’t make their mortgage payments, and helping them out was a dead easy decision.”
So he was still talking about the winery. Laney turned around on the couch to better watch Kyle. He was mashing potatoes now, his light blue dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. She watched the muscles in his forearm flex and release as he worked butter and green onions into the mix in a stainless steel bowl. “You gave them a loan?”
“More like, I made a small investment in the company. I own two percent of the winery. So even if the wine wasn’t any good, I’d still buy it.” He winked at her, and that clenching started again.
“You continue to surprise me.”
“Mmmm? How else have I surprised you?” He tasted the potatoes, and reached for the pepper.
She pursed her lips, not sure what to say. “You’re still you, but…complicated isn’t the right word. Busy, I guess. You’re much busier than I would have thought. Helping neighbours, investing in a business, renovating your own place. The Kyle I knew would have wanted to spend his summers at the beach and his evenings watching TV or playing video games.”
He put down the bowl of potatoes and leaned against the island. His face had that carefully neutral facade in place, but she knew the jaw twitch would make an appearance in three, two, one—“That Kyle was twenty two. He was an idiotic kid. I should hope that I’m a somewhat improved model. I’m a man. I don’t shy away from hard work and I like to keep busy.” He turned away from her and filled a small pot with water. “I have goals in life, Laney. I’m not sitting around.”
She leapt to her feet, her heart in her throat. “I didn’t mean…Kyle, you had goals back then. Big goals. I’m sorry. I’ve offended you.”
He shook his head. “Now my goals are for myself.”
She moved around the island, cl
osing the gap between them, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her face fit neatly between his shoulder blades. While it was an unusual way to assess vital signs, the doctor in her couldn’t help but notice that while his respiration rate was normal, his heart rate was elevated. “I get it. I really do. I said something quite similar to my mom this morning, about me, I mean.”
Kyle twisted to look at her and Laney eased her grip, allowing him to turn completely in her arms. His gaze was dark and searching, and she apologized again for ruining the mood. He shook his head and traced over her lips with his thumb.
“You didn’t ruin anything. This isn’t a date, not really. There’s a lot of shit between us, Delaney, and we shouldn’t pretend that there isn’t. I don’t need tonight to be light and breezy, I just need it to be real.” And he lowered his mouth to brush hers, soft and light at first, then hard and demanding, but with restraint. He dragged at her lower lip with his teeth, then smoothed over the swollen crest with the tip of his tongue before pulling back. “I have to put the beans on, can you refill our glasses?”
She nodded, too stunned to speak, and went to fetch the bottle from the living room.
Dinner was a gastronomic delight. Braised thick pork chops in an orange and balsamic sauce with chunks of apples and onions, extra-buttery mashed potatoes and green beans on the side. Laney dug in, pausing every few bites to extol the awesomeness of his cooking and butter in general.
“I took a guess that you’d probably had enough quinoa and tofu over at the farm,” Kyle chuckled as she swallowed more potatoes with a happy groan. “You haven’t turned into a health food nut, have you?”
Laney shook her head. “I eat salad regularly, I’m not a glutton, but I couldn’t live like my sister does. I’m happy with my padding.”
Kyle couldn’t see any extra weight, but he knew better than to say anything. He’d seen Evie in her workout clothes, and he knew what Laney meant. They were both slim, but Laney had a softness to her curves while her sister’s beauty was more about strength and definition—she looked like a professional dancer. Laney was the classic portrait of a ballerina, delicate and ethereal.
“Where did you learn to cook like that?” She set her fork and knife on her empty plate and turned toward Kyle. “That was amazing.”
“Took lessons, watched the Food Network, practiced a lot.” He shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“Uh, yes, it is. I live on takeout and leftovers brought in by my secretary. I wish I could cook like this. Where did you take lessons? I need to look into something like that.”
“It was something through the city recreation catalogue.” That Crystal had signed them up for. “I’m sure there would be a lot of options in Chicago.”
Laney tilted her head to the side, as if she was trying to figure something out. “Ohhhhh. I get it. You took them with a girl.” She nodded, like that made sense, which he didn’t understand. Why wouldn’t he take cooking classes on his own? “You’ve never liked the city rec programs. You always said they were—”
“—social, not educational. I can’t believe you remember.” That went back to his coaching days. He’d said the same thing to Crystal, but she just wanted to do something ‘couple-y’, she didn’t care about how in-depth the course might be. “I was a bit harsh. It wasn’t a bad class.”
“I’ll say, if it taught you how to cook like that. So, who did you go with? The ex?”
He shifted on his seat. “Yes, with Crystal.”
“Awww, cute.”
Kyle didn’t like the edge to Laney’s voice. He nudged her with his foot and nodded toward the sink. “Stick the plates over there, I’ll get dessert out.”
“You don’t want to talk about her.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You do?”
“Sure. We’re friends, right? Friends can talk about anything.”
He barked out a laugh. “Okay. Let’s talk about your last boyfriend.”
She pretended not to hear him as she started to rinse off the dinner plates. He stalked over and placed his hands against the counter on either side of her, trapping her next to the sink. He flicked off the tap and nudged his head against hers.
“I thought you wanted tonight to be honest.” Laney’s voice was quiet, but the hurt rang loud and clear.
“There’s honest and then there’s too much. Getting into twelve years of sexual history falls into the latter category. “
“I don’t want to know about your sex life,” she whispered. “I just…we didn’t do anything like that. Couple stuff. I’ve never done that, with anyone. I’m curious.”
“I’m not a great example of relationship success.” That was an understatement. He didn’t know how they’d ended up on this topic, and he couldn’t see a way to navigate past it. Every muscle in his body was taut with tension, and he felt like a fight was just around the corner.
“Humour me.” She pressed against him, making a pocket of space in which to turn, and then she was sliding her hands under his shirt. “Let’s go sit by the fire and talk.”
“I have a better idea. Let’s go lie down by the fire, and I’ll convince you that talking is overrated.”
“That’s been my line, hasn’t it?” She laughed and twisted away from him, swaying her hips in the process. He groaned, wanting to grab those hips and slide her beneath him, kiss her until they both forgot how much was still left unsaid between them. He felt restless, like a boxer before a match, and he followed her, wondering if that feeling of discordance maybe couldn’t be separated from the passion sparking between them. That this fling was actually makeup sex, delayed a decade.
Laney knelt on the rug and pulled off her top. He stood in front of her, taking in the glorious sight in front of him. Her blonde hair flowed loose down her back in gentle waves, cascading over the delicate curve of her shoulders. She wore a black pushup bra, her pale skin glowing in stark contrast despite the dim light in the room. She looked up at him with a gentle smile, but there was a faint tremble to her bottom lip. He stroked her cheek, and she rubbed her face back against his hand.
“Come down here,” she whispered, tugging on his hand.
He pulled off his own shirt and joined her, pressing their bare torsos together, warming her on both sides as he dragged his hands up and down her spine. He dipped his head to capture her mouth and she pulled away. “Not yet. Let’s talk.”
Kyle groaned and ground his pelvis against her. “Feel that? He doesn’t want to talk.”
She grinned. “We have all night, remember?”
That earned her another groan, and he tucked his thumbs inside the waistband of her jeans. “Then why did we start to get naked?”
She tilted her head to the side and blinked as if just thinking about that question for the first time. “It seemed like a good idea. Like taking off armor. Plus I like it when you touch my breasts.”
He stroked his thumbs around her hips, sending a shiver across her tummy, and then swept his hands north, mimicking the shape of her bra, his fingertips stroking the bare skin swelling over top of the cups. “Mmmm. I like that too.”
“So you keep doing that, and let’s talk.”
“About what? It’s a challenge to think when you’re this close to me.”
“I want to have healthy relationships.”
“Do I look like Dr. Phil?” He slipped one bra strap off her shoulder, then the other. He left a trail of little kisses across her collarbone as he reached around behind her to do away with the undergarment completely. She gave a hitching little sigh when he sat back on his heels and pulled her up to straddle his lap. “Do you think I’m going to help you figure out how best to date other guys?” He thrust his hips hard against her and strummed across her nipples with his thumbs.
She swallowed hard. Two pink spots decorated her porcelain cheeks and her eyes dilated wide. “Why wouldn’t you?” she gasped, arching her breasts toward his mouth.
He growled and flipped her over, his body pressing between her legs. He re
ached between them and undid the button of her jeans. “That’s a good question,” he said, sliding the zipper open. “Why don’t you answer it while I make you come.”
She gasped and pushed on Kyle’s shoulders, wriggling out from underneath him. She held out a hand, as if to stop him from advancing again. “Wait,” she panted. “Just … stop for a second. This feels angry. Why does this feel angry?”
Kyle pushed himself to a stand and exhaled hard. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Dammit, I’m sorry, Laney. Here, come here.” He pulled her up to join him. He grabbed a throw blanket from the chair and wrapped it around her. He stalked into the kitchen to grab another bottle of wine.
Laney shivered under the blanket. She didn’t know why she couldn’t just shut up. Kyle returned, with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. She gave him a small smile and was relieved when it was returned. He looked embarrassed, and she wanted to make it right.
“I’m not very good at this talking thing, clearly.”
“We’re both a bit out of practice.” He took a big gulp of wine. “Two years, remember?”
“Try twelve.” She grimaced.
“So you really haven’t had a real relationship since we broke up?” He looked incredulous. “How did you fend them off?”