More Than A Feeling (The Boston Five Series #3)

by Poppy J. Anderson

  “Why do you insist on thwarting all my attempts at finding you a nice man?”

  Her mother’s question really did sound desperate, so Kayleigh groaned. “Why do you insist on trying to find me a nice man?”

  “Honey, you’re thirty years old. You ought to think about settling down with a man and then plan on having babies.”

  Kayleigh had heard that tune a million times before, so she merely replied the only way she knew how. “Oh, Mom, that sounds like a lot of work. I’d rather settle down with the perfect grill for my backyard and then plan my next barbecue party. Believe me—that would make me happier than your suggestion.”

  “No need to make fun of it.” Her mom dropped the rag and studied her with so much concern that one might have thought Kayleigh had just declared that she intended to give up her job to work as a mime in a home for the blind. “I’m just worried about you, love.”

  “But you don’t need to be,” Kayleigh assured her, wrapping up the rest of her sandwich. She wanted to leave before her mom suggested she set up a profile on an online dating site. “I’m doing fine, and I don’t think I’d be any happier if I had a man at home. He’d only expect me to make him a sandwich. Oh, horror of horrors!”

  “Your dad wasn’t like that,” her mom countered. “There are men who don’t laze on the couch as soon as they’re home from work, expect dinner to be served, and refuse to take out the trash, you know.”

  Kayleigh thought of her neat roommate, but she didn’t say anything, lest her mother get her hopes up. She took her leave quickly, for when a mother was this bent on pairing off her daughter, that daughter had better duck for cover.

  She finished her sandwich on the way home and stepped into her house with a big yawn. It was immediately verified that her roommate didn’t behave like a pig even when he had the place to himself—instead of lounging on the couch like she tended to do, feet propped up on the coffee table, he was sitting relaxed but upright on the sofa, watching something on TV.

  When she closed the front door behind her and greeted him with a nod, he immediately sat straighter and muted the TV.

  Kayleigh’s glance fell on his glass, which was placed on a coaster. She hadn’t even known she possessed coasters!

  “Hi,” she said as she slipped out of her jacket, dropping her keys on the hallway cabinet. “How are you?”

  “Good,” he replied, moving to get up. “I just wanted to watch the news real quick—”

  Kayleigh raised a hand as she stepped into the living room. “Don’t let me get in the way. The TV is all yours.”

  Instead of answering, he merely fixed her with those baby blues, his expression thoughtful and appraising. Kayleigh admitted to herself that she would have given more than a penny for his thoughts right then.

  When he lifted his right arm and pointed over his shoulder, she noticed the small cross tattoo on the inside of his bicep, which was normally hidden in the sleeve of his grey t-shirt. And then she remembered how she’d traced that cross with the tips of her fingers when they’d lain in bed together.

  “I made some chili,” he said. “There’s a bowl in the fridge for you.”

  “Wow,” she said, struggling not to stare too openly at the tattoo or his strong arms. Then she leaned against the empty wingback chair next to her. “You make an amazing roommate.”

  “I do?” he asked, a spark of amusement glinting in his eyes.

  “Very much so,” she confirmed, wrapping her arms around the high wingback of the armchair. “No more dirty laundry in the bathroom, the fridge is always full, and now you even cooked dinner. When Shane lived with me once for three weeks when his apartment had a major water leak, I thought I was gonna go berserk. Believe me, if he hasn’t miraculously changed into a cleaning maniac, your sister is in for some handwringing.”

  She had expected his expression to turn sour at the mention of her brother, since you didn’t have to be a genius to notice the tension between Shane and Aidan, but to her surprise, he burst into laughter instead.

  “What’s so funny about that?”

  “Nothing,” he said, throwing his head back. “It’s just the ultimate proof that my sister must be blinded by love, since she keeps banging on about Shane being faultless.”

  “Shane faultless?” Kayleigh snorted derisively. “Blinded and gagged by love, surely.”

  He shrugged and gave her a friendly look. “So how was work?”

  Now it was her turn to shrug. “Business as usual. Vomiting kids, whining men, and wasted homeless people. And we finally had another Hulk today. Oh, how I missed the show. Not.”

  “A Hulk?” Curiosity brought his eyes to life. “What’s a Hulk in a hospital?”

  Kayleigh slipped across the armrest of the wingback chair, placing her head on the opposite armrest and letting her legs dangle over the side. When she was comfortably draped across the chair, she explained, “A Hulk is a guy with a very big mouth, who raises a fuss as soon as he sees a syringe, turns all green, and has to be restrained before he attacks the nurse with the needle. It happens every other week. There’s a big health club not far from the hospital. Some of the guys that work out there overestimate themselves, and then they’re brought into the ER for pulled muscles or weights dropped on various parts of the body. Those bodybuilders are mostly full of steroids, and big pussies at the same time. Makes for an amazing combo,” she ended with an annoyed expression.

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “Not really.” She shook her head, amused once again. “They may think they’re dangerous all right, but once you’ve seen one of them cry like a baby when you give them a shot in their butt, they’re not that intimidating anymore.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you enjoy stabbing crying bodybuilders with as many needles as you can possibly justify?”

  Kayleigh crossed her arms under her breasts and looked at him with a mixture of mirth and annoyance. “Who said I don’t enjoy it? It’s better than vomiting kids or wasted homeless people.”

  Her guest made a face and then sighed heavily. “Please remind me to never allow myself to be treated by you, Kayleigh. You sound like a loose cannon.”

  She nodded, not taking it as an insult at all. “You do what you can.” She didn’t want the conversation to end on that note, however, because she was enjoying the fact that it wasn’t embarrassing to sit here with Aidan, for a change. “So, how did you spend your day?”

  He switched off the TV. “Don’t laugh. I went shopping.”

  Kayleigh was unable to leave it at that. “Shopping? I can think of a truckload of jokes to follow up on that, and even Adam Sandler would seem like a party pooper next to me. But I care about your sensitive soul, so I’m going to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Thank you very much,” he grumbled. “I appreciate your kindness.”

  She giggled and cocked her head. “So what did you buy, you fashion victim?”

  Aidan squeezed his blue eyes shut and then rubbed his stubbly cheek. “If my sister goes through with marrying your brother, I’ll need a suit. So I went and got myself a damn suit.”

  Kayleigh wasn’t sure whether he was joking. “If she goes through with it?” she repeated suspiciously. “Do you think Thorne still might reconsider?”

  “Jesus, no.” He shook his head and added with surprising sincerity, “Wild horses couldn’t stop her from marrying him, and as long as your brother makes her happy, I won’t get in their way.”

  Kayleigh liked the sentiment and winked at him. “All right then. Hit the catwalk, baby. It sounds like you spent a lot of time and effort finding the perfect outfit for the occasion. Show me.”

  “While I’d love to parade my new suit for you,” he said with mock contrition, “I really need to hit the hay now.”

  “Aww …” Kayleigh pouted. “That’s too bad.”

  “It is,” he agreed as he rose. “But I need to get up early tomorrow,” he added before carrying his glass and coaster back into the kitchen.

  Th
anks to the upbeat mood she suddenly found herself in, her gaze traveled south of its own accord, taking in his firm butt as he walked into the kitchen. Staring at his broad back, the bulging muscles under his shirt, and his backside under the faded denim of his jeans, she called after him, “And what are your early-morning plans for tomorrow then?”

  He stepped to the sink, drained his glass, and then washed it, dried it, and put it back in the cabinet. Only when he’d done all this did he turn and reply, “I’m meeting a realtor at eight thirty, and then I’m gonna pick up Brady and spend the day with him.”

  “A realtor?” Kayleigh frowned, puzzled. “What happened to all the for-rent ads you found in the paper?”

  He shrugged, telling her things hadn’t gone so well in that respect. His words confirmed what dawned on her just then. “Former inmates are obviously not the kind of tenants most landlords are looking for. But don’t let that worry you. I’m gonna find something and clear out of your guest room in no time,” he tried to reassure her—or himself.

  “Hey, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” Kayleigh offered. And she meant it. “And if you want me to, I could ask around.”

  “Thanks”—he shook his head—“but I’ll be fine. You want me to reheat the chili for you?”

  She followed his gaze in the direction of the fridge and shook her head now, too. “No, I’ll save that for breakfast.”

  “For breakfast?” He sounded shocked, which made her laugh.

  “Of course! How else do you think I tame those Hulks?”

  Chapter 7

  Aidan steered Brady toward the hot dog stand, but his nephew started to hop up and down and screamed like a madman across the street. “Aunt Kayleigh! We’re here!”

  Confused, Aidan scanned the opposite side of the street for the short-haired woman with dimples, and she entered his field of vision—running across the street and waving at them, ignoring the bike messenger who yelled at her to get her damn ass off the road. She stepped up onto the curb, somehow in one piece, and stopped in front of them.

  “Hey, you guys!” She grinned and threw Aidan a questioning look through her sunglasses. Befitting the warm weather, the woman who had indeed eaten his chili for breakfast was wearing short denim shorts, a sleeveless t-shirt, and worn-down sneakers. She’d tied a faded shirt around her hips and slung a leather bag across a shoulder. Like cool incarnate, she pushed the sunglasses up into her hair. “What brought you two into town?”

  “Hot dogs and baseball!” Brady exclaimed and let go of Aidan’s hand so he could wrap both arms around his aunt’s hips and hug her close. “Uncle Aidan is gonna show me how to throw a curveball.”

  “Ha!” she yelled, ruffling her nephew’s hair, before hitting him lightly. “I hope you told your uncle who taught you how to throw a strike, because I’m sure he doesn’t stand a chance against you.”

  She gave Aidan a conspiratorial wink, letting go of Brady and burying one hand in the pocket of her too-short shorts. Normally Aidan wasn’t averse to this kind of clothing on a woman with shapely legs, but he could remember all too well how this specific pair of legs had felt wrapped around his thighs. That was the problem. It was one thing to sleep under Kayleigh Fitzpatrick’s roof, but another to notice and admire her bare legs, to stare at her generous smile, or to find her tiny panties in the laundry basket and have to remind himself that he needed to keep his hands to himself.

  Unfortunately, the woman in front of him was out of his league. He’d been good enough for a one-night stand, but Aidan knew Kayleigh could do better than an ex-con, and that she also deserved better.

  “Aunt Kayleigh taught me to throw strikes,” Brady now explained superfluously, showing a new gap in his toothy grin. “Because Dad’s a loser at baseball, but I’m not supposed to tell him that.” He had obviously memorized that last sentence.

  “Exactly,” Kayleigh agreed. “And why aren’t you supposed to mention it? Because your dad doesn’t like to be reminded of how bad he really is at baseball. He wouldn’t be angry with you if you told him, but there’s no telling what he’d do to your poor old auntie, right?”

  Brady giggled and put a hand over his mouth, which elicited a broad smile from Aidan. He loved spending time with the six-year-old. Too bad he also loved to look at the bare legs of the woman standing so close right now he could have counted her thick lashes.

  And who seemed about ready to leave them again. She glanced at her watch.

  “All right, guys. I’ll let you order your hot dogs and play some ball now.”

  Brady pouted and shook his head in disappointment, grabbing his aunt’s hand. “No, Aunt Kayleigh! You need to come with us!”

  “No, Brady,” she replied good-naturedly. “You’re having a boys’ day.”

  Before Aidan knew what he was doing, he interfered. “First you make my nephew brag about what a great baseball player you are, and then you want to beat it? That’s not how it works. Now I’m curious to see your pitching.”

  She looked dumbfounded, blinking in an irritated manner, but then she chewed her lower lip and sighed. Her voice was more earnest than he’d ever remembered hearing it as she said, “I don’t want to take over your day with Brady.”

  “You aren’t,” he assured her and placed a hand on his nephew’s hair. “I haven’t played baseball in ages, so I’m sure I could use some pointers anyway.”

  She wrinkled her nose and looked from one guy to the other, still not convinced. Then she threw up her hands as if resigning herself to some fate. “Okay, fine. I’ll tag along.”

  Aidan steered Brady toward the hot dog stand. “What changed your mind?” he asked Kayleigh with genuine interest. “The thought of a hot dog or seeing me play awful baseball?”

  She covered Brady’s ears and gave him an appraising look, then said so loudly that the hot dog man could hear, “Disregarding the fact that you might spoil my nephew’s technique when you attempt to teach him how to throw a curveball, it was the prospect of staring at your ass while you pitch.”

  It took almost a full second before Aidan could swallow his surprise and react with nonchalance. “You don’t say.”

  Her mirth made it impossible to judge whether she was kidding or not.

  The hot dog seller was looking at them indecisively and holding up his tongs with a dripping hot dog between them. Kayleigh leaned toward to him. “Oh, I’m sure your hot dogs are delicious, but so is his butt, you know. By the way, I’d like mine without sauerkraut.”

  The man didn’t seem to think that was funny, because he scowled at her. But maybe his grim expression was simply due to the inappropriate topic of their conversation in front of his stand. Aidan felt uncomfortable, caught between Kayleigh’s praise for his derriere, Brady’s wiggling to get rid of her hands—which still covered his ears—and the hot dog man’s sinister frown. It didn’t help that the man was still holding up the piece of meat that looked like a certain part of the male anatomy, squeezing it between his tongs.

  “Kayleigh,” he murmured urgently, “are you, for the love of God, telling the hot dog guy about us having sex?”

  “Of course not,” she replied, freeing Brady’s ears. “I would only do that if he gave us the hot dogs free.”

  “We get the hot dogs for free?” Brady repeated eagerly.

  “Nope,” his aunt cut him short and then asked him, “What do you want on yours?”

  When it was Aidan’s turn to order, he had all but lost his appetite. But he pulled out his wallet, ordered a hot dog with sauerkraut and onions for himself, and met the seller’s disapproving gaze before turning to Kayleigh and Brady, who were both already biting into their hot dogs, catching any dripping mustard or ketchup with their tongues. In the presence of the grumpy salesman and the six-year-old boy, Aidan felt like a sex offender—all he wanted to do was stare at the way Kayleigh was eating her hot dog, closing her eyes appreciatively and licking the mustard from her fingers. It made him nervous. After seven years in prison, one amazing night
with this woman, and six months on a lonely oil rig, her indulgent enjoyment of this suggestively shaped food seemed lascivious to him, and it was entirely too much for his peace of mind.

  He devoured his own snack quickly and almost without chewing, which made it sit heavy as a brick in his stomach. Cursing inwardly, he herded the others over to the nearby baseball diamond, where he pulled out his wallet again and handed Brady a bill before his aunt could do so. She frowned at him in protest.

  When Brady had run off to get bats, balls, and helmets, Aidan stuffed his wallet back in his pocket and met Kayleigh’s frustrated glance. “What?”

  “You already paid for the hot dogs,” she complained, shaking out her short hair. “It was my turn to pay for the gear, Aidan.”

  He shrugged. “I may be slightly out of practice with the rules of dating, but I have a good excuse, and if I’m not completely mistaken, it’s the men who are expected to pay for stuff.”

  “Ha! Who said this was a date?”

  He snorted. Brady was out of earshot now, so he could risk saying, “It wasn’t me who started this talk about cute asses and sex stories. That was you, Kayleigh.”

  “Guilty as charged.” She raised a placatory hand and then feigned a move as if to trip him. “I tend to get a little awkward come mating season.”

  “Mating season?” Aidan guffawed and sidestepped her.

  “Of course!” she answered emphatically. “The weather’s getting warmer, the days are getting longer, and there’s a virtual flood of wedding invitations. If you knew how many children are sired in this season out of sheer frustration, you needn’t ask.”

  “Interesting.” Aidan crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So do you happen to know the reason and season you were ‘sired,’ too?”

  Her dimples got deeper. “My parents didn’t have cable. What about you?”

  He blinked at her. “I have no idea, and I’m glad I don’t. Did you actually ask your parents why you were conceived?”