Kane lowered his chin. “I’m a mystery?”
“Not in a bad way. I meant you’re interesting. You’re not what I’m used to.”
“What are you used to?”
“Obviously I’m not used to any of this.” She waved her hand around the house. “Living on my own, finding a date for the hospital fund-raiser, dealing with my well-meaning aunt, who keeps buying me tacky makeup by the way, and her socialite friend.” Lusting after my sexy contractor.
“Just tell them you’re not bringing a plus-one.”
“But Aunt Freckles will be disappointed.”
“She’ll get over it. You need to start standing up for yourself, Jules.”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe. Yes. So that problem’s solved. What else aren’t you used to?”
“I’m not used to taking care of someone else’s dog...”
“Mr. Donut isn’t mine.”
“Well, you named him,” he chuckled. “And he certainly follows you around like he’s yours.”
“That’s only because I feed him human food. He sleeps in your bed.”
“You mean the bed with the comforter on it that you bought me?”
She’d meant to say the words jokingly, but suddenly the teasing glint in Kane’s eye was gone. It’d been replaced with something she couldn’t quite name, but whatever it was had his pupils dilated and made his voice grow quiet when he said, “Speaking of your bed, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be working here so late anymore.”
Her heart dropped. “Why not?”
“Because every time you’re around, I can’t focus on what I’m working on.”
He took a step closer, and she had to angle her chin to look up at him. “Do you think that has something to do with your ADHD?”
“No. I think it has something to do with your bow-shaped lip,” he said before closing the distance between them.
His kiss took her by surprise. She gasped and he pushed against her open mouth with his tongue as she let him inside, allowing herself to grow accustomed to the feel of him before tentatively kissing him back.
When she responded, he groaned and slid his hands inside her cashmere cardigan, planting his palms on either side of her waist. Her breasts pressed against him and the rest of her followed suit, molding itself along each contour of his body.
She’d once had to administer a dose of epinephrine when one of her patients had suffered an allergic reaction. She imagined the shock of having the adrenaline hit one’s bloodstream felt exactly like this. A burst of pure energy raced through her veins, and she had to have more. Gripping his shoulders to steady herself, Julia tilted her head to get a better angle, a better taste.
Kane must have maneuvered her against the kitchen counter, because she felt the cool granite against the back of her waist, where her shirt and sweater had lifted. He groaned again, and she heard a soft thud of something hitting the floor. But it was too difficult to think about the sounds around her when her heart was pounding so thoroughly in her ears.
Julia felt something brush against her shin, and Kane stumbled back. She looked down to see Mr. Donut wedging his thick body between them and using his nose to root around inside a to-go container that had fallen off the counter. The dog successfully slurped up the lo mein noodles, seemingly having no concern for what he’d just interrupted.
She exhaled, then immediately closed her lips to keep Kane from seeing how desperately she wanted him to return to them. But there was no need to concern herself with Kane even glancing in her direction. His eyes briefly passed over the dog before lifting to the ceiling and finally landing on the emptiness outside her kitchen window. “I, uh, better go,” he said to the darkened glass behind her.
It took a second to find her voice. When she finally did, she was barely able to rasp out the word, “Okay.”
He turned and walked toward the front door, giving no excuse and making no apology. And surprisingly, she didn’t want to hear either. For a woman who prided herself on finding a logical reason for everything, Julia didn’t think she could bear hearing his contrite explanation or facing the realization that when it came to men, she’d once again failed to see the signs and had made another mistake.
* * *
Kane would voluntarily have undergone surgery on his good shoulder if it would’ve meant tuning out Cessy and Freckles talking about the Sugar and Shadow Shindig at the nearby table inside the Cowgirl Up Café. Especially because he knew it was just a matter of time before they brought up Julia and who she’d be bringing to the dinner dance as her date.
Jealousy spread over his skin just as easily as Freckles’s homemade huckleberry jam over the hot biscuit on his plate. And hearing the chorus for Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer chirping out of the overhead speakers was making him feel anything but jolly.
Kane knew last night’s kiss was a bad idea five seconds before he’d moved in for it. But as usual, his actions beat his brain to the punch. Then, instead of apologizing like a rational person would have done, he’d flown out of her house like a runner stealing second base when the catcher already had the ball. He drove home the same way he’d lived out his twenties—with reckless abandon. Nothing had been able to slow his racing pulse, his racing mind. Then, refusing to imagine how much more would’ve happened if the dog hadn’t interrupted them, he’d gone straight to his garage and stayed up most of the night busting his knuckles installing a high-performance camshaft and valve train on the Bronco. He forced himself to do mental calculations of cubic inch displacement and to read long-winded owner’s manuals rather than think of how perfectly Julia’s compact body had felt against his. Or how hot her tongue had been when she’d met his demanding rhythm.
And now, twelve hours later, he couldn’t forget a single sensation, a single spark.
Dr. Smarty-Pants had been warm and passionate in his arms, her hands curious, her mouth exploring his. Those lips of hers feeling as if they’d been made for kissing him...
Sleigh bells tinkled behind him, and he turned toward the doors, which were actually covered with wrapping paper and decorated with bows to resemble Christmas presents. Marcus Weston stepped inside, and most of the customers in the Cowgirl Up Café turned to look at the former point guard for the men’s basketball team at a Division I college. The one scouts expected to be a first-round pro-draft pick, until he enlisted in the Marine Corps halfway through his senior year. Marcus still walked with a limp, not quite used to his new prosthetic foot.
“’Sup, Legend,” the man said when he reached Kane’s table.
Kane stood up to shake Marcus’s hand. “Don’t call me that. Not here.”
“Because none of these local town folks know who you are?” Only the lower half of Marcus’s body had been engulfed in flames after his fighter jet had crash-landed and exploded in a training exercise over a year ago—which meant the man’s black eyebrows could still be easily raised with sarcasm. “Anyway, where’s this wilderness guide we’re supposed to meet?”
“Alex should be here soon.” Kane took a gulp of his decaf coffee, wishing he hadn’t arranged to meet some of the guys from the PTSD group at Julia’s aunt’s restaurant before the mountain biking trip. But then, how was he supposed to know he’d go and ruin everything by pushing their relationship way past the friendship zone?
The bitter aftertaste of the brew burned its way down his throat, and he slid the complimentary basket of buttermilk biscuits away from him, deciding he wasn’t in the mood to eat, after all. He couldn’t even enjoy his breakfast anymore, knowing that the café owner talking to her friend a few tables down was only one phone call away from finding out that he’d put the moves on her niece last night.
“You’re going riding with us, right?” Marcus took a seat opposite him in the booth and opened the laminated menu.
“Act
ually, I’m not operating on much sleep today and might skip out after Alex gets everyone set up on bikes.” God, not only was his morning meal ruined, but also he couldn’t even think of bicycles without thinking of Julia now.
“C’mon, man. Dr. Gregson says one of the best things for our recovery is to get outside in nature.”
“And he’s probably right.” However, Kane didn’t have PTSD, and no amount of nature would cure him from thinking about how Julia’s narrow, firm body fit so well against his. In fact, he’d probably think about it so much, he’d end up riding his bike off a big rock. “But it’s not like you actually need me today.”
“I’m from Miami, Legend. We don’t do mountains in Florida. In fact, most of the guys coming on the trip today are from the big cities and think they’ll end up suffocating in this fresh air. The only reason they agreed to come is that they like hanging out with you.” Marcus pointed a long brown finger at him. “Don’t blow them off, man.”
Kane cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the knot of guilt that had wedged itself inside him. “You said they like hanging out with me.”
“Personally, I think you can be a real downer, and it probably wouldn’t hurt for you to get laid.” Marcus smiled, and Kane pulled a muscle in his neck trying to look over to see if Freckles or any of the other customers had heard what the man just said. “I only stay in the group so I can tell people that I bench-press more than Legend Chatterson.”
“That’s because I have a bad shoulder,” Kane grumbled.
“At least you still have a shoulder.” Marcus reached into the basket and pulled out a biscuit. “I’m missing a foot and still outran you last week on the track.”
This was why his brother-in-law Drew had convinced Kane to come to his therapy group. He knew his patients needed motivation to regain their physical fitness. But Drew also knew that Kane needed to rise to a challenge once in a while.
“You’re not going to beat me today,” Kane shot back, recognizing the competitive glint in Marcus’s determined eyes.
Just as Monica stopped by to take their order, the bells tinkled over the door again, and Kane gulped when he saw Julia walk into the café. Actually, she blasted in, still wearing her headphones, which obviously weren’t completely plugged in, judging by the way the saxophone riffs spewed out of the tiny speaker on the iPod strapped to her arm. Kane had to give her credit for her improved taste in music, but a sudden jolt of energy crackled through his already restless muscles, and he had to force himself not to run out the door. Or worse, run straight toward her and kiss her all over again.
“Sug,” Freckles hollered over the sound, making even Scooter Deets, who was hard of hearing, take notice of Julia’s arrival. “Turn that dang thing off and come meet Cessy Walker.”
He saw her take a step back, her eyes darting around at the audience now looking her way. Kane shot to his feet and made it to her side in under five steps. His hand reached for her arm to hold the iPod steady as he shoved the earplug cord home. Julia’s arm didn’t jerk back at his touch—which was a relief—but her green eyes rounded as the music screamed its way into her ears.
She pulled the headphones off and made several attempts to swipe at the device’s screen before finally getting the thing powered down.
“Thanks,” she said. He wasn’t sure if the flush on her cheeks was from embarrassment at everyone watching them or if it was leftover from how he’d behaved last night.
Or maybe it was because she’d obviously been out running, as her workout clothes and sneakers suggested.
“No problem.” He tried to smile, but it felt too forced. Too awkward. Like everyone in this restaurant would know what they’d done last night.
Well, what he’d done.
Before he could stop them, his eyes moved of their own accord to her lips, and he remembered exactly how active a participant Just Julia had been last night. He corrected himself again. What he’d started, but what they’d done. Both of them. Together.
“Sug.” Freckles stood, a perfectly coiffed Cessy Walker trailing behind her, and walked toward them. Kane took a couple steps back, retreating to his table while he still had the chance. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until after he sat down in the safe confines of his booth that he realized he was now trapped only a few feet away from them as Freckles stood there with her socialite best friend, making introductions and talking about formal wear and hairstyles and beauty shop appointments.
Some of the confidence had even drizzled out of Marcus’s smirk when it didn’t appear that the three women would be moving anytime soon, thereby allowing the new waitress to take their breakfast order.
With nothing to do but wait this out, Kane settled back in his seat and allowed his eyes to roam over Julia’s body. She was wearing black spandex pants that hugged every inch of her toned legs. Her long-sleeved white T-shirt with NAVY stamped across her breasts wasn’t quite long enough to cover her rear end, and Kane’s right knee bounced in double-time thinking about how close his hands had been to those sweet curves last night.
“Julia, honey, we’re putting you and your date at the head table,” Cessy said, the word date hurled its way into Kane’s inappropriate thoughts and snapped him back to the present.
“That’s the thing I actually wanted to speak to you both about,” Julia replied, but instead of looking at the two women, she was staring at Kane. Was she going to stand up to them? He nodded at her and gave his fist a small pump in solidarity. Julia took a breath and continued. “I’ve decided not to bring a date to the gala.”
“I had a feeling it was going to come down to this.” But instead of looking annoyed, Cessy’s bright red lips were spread in a satisfied grin. Julia’s eyes grew wide, her smile tentative as though she was surprised at how quickly she’d accomplished her goal.
But before Kane could lift his fist again in support of her victory, Cessy continued. “Your Aunt Freckles and I have been putting together a list of some single gentlemen that you can bring.”
Kane braced his forearms on the table and Julia crossed her arms in front of her chest, her defensive stance actually drawing more attention to her chest. Or at least, Kane’s attention. “Like who?”
“How about Carla Patrelli’s brother?” Freckles asked. “He just moved here recently from Chicago.”
“Isn’t that the guy who got drunk at karaoke night at the VFW and asked every woman in the place to sing a Bee Gees duet with him?” Kane shook his head at Julia. “You’re not going with him. He’s obviously a player.”
Freckles and Cessy whispered to each other before the waitress began reading off her notepad. “There’s Jake Marconi’s friend who has that nice animal shelter out off Highway 18?”
“Carmen arrested him last month for running a dog fighting ring,” Kane responded. “Next.”
“Jeffrey what’s-his-name, that Navy corpsman who was one of Chief Cooper’s groomsmen?”
“Ran into him at the hospital a few months ago and he got married to his longtime girlfriend.”
“Alex Russell?” Cessy suggested a bit too smugly. Kane should have known it was only a matter of time before the women suggested one of Sugar Fall’s most sought-after bachelors. “He’s single and you certainly can’t object to one of your own poker buddies.”
“Julia’s too pretty for Alex,” Kane said way too quickly, causing Freckles to arch one of her unnatural-looking eyebrows. “I mean, Alex likes his women more...plain and not so feminine.”
“Then how about Vic Russell, his dad?” Freckles asked, her dreamy expression matching Cessy’s. “He looks like Hugh Jackman’s older brother.”
Kane scrunched his nose. “He’s twice her age, Freckles.”
“Then I guess that takes us out of the running,” Scooter said to Jonesy, reminding Kane that everyone in the café was listening to this absurd conversation. Julia’s
mouth opened and closed as if she were looking for the opportunity and the right words to tell them all to butt out of her life. Yet her eyes pleaded with him to make this fiasco go away and he wanted to say, See! I told you this is what they do when they get together. Steam. Roller.
She’d laughed him off last night, but she certainly wasn’t laughing now. He needed to do something to stop this runaway train from going completely off the rails. But before he could, the man across the table spoke up.
“I’ll go with the hot doc.” Marcus’s smile widened even more than it had when they’d gone to the batting cages in Boise a couple of weeks ago and Kane had to remind the man that he couldn’t be expected to hit all twelve of the balls because he used to be a pitcher, not a designated hitter.
“Hot doc?” Kane whipped his head back to the former basketball player. “Who calls her that?”
“Everyone in the physical rehab wing at the hospital,” Marcus said as Freckles and Cessy began nodding in earnest and whipped out their seating chart. Then Marcus leaned across the table and put his hand up to his mouth before whispering, “Have you ever seen her in workout clothes?”
A green, jealous haze closed in around Kane and before he could ask Julia her opinion or stop the words from shooting out of his mouth, he all but shouted, “That’s it. I’m going to take her my damn self.”
Chapter Eleven
For a few days, Kane tried everything he could imagine to reconcile his desire to avoid both public events and complications with his building excitement that he was going to be taking Julia on an actual date. Of course, after he’d shot off his mouth in the Cowgirl Up Café that morning, he’d stormed out of the restaurant before the “hot doc” or her overprotective aunt could object—with Marcus Weston’s laughter still ringing in his ears. Then he’d waited for a phone call, a text, a note taped to her front door or tied to Mr. Donut’s new collar telling him that there was no way in hell she would be willing to attend the hospital gala with him. But no such message ever came, and he found his spirits lift each day that he’d successfully avoided her potential rejection.
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