“I’m happy you could make it. I was scared you’d stand me up,” he said after they reached his spot and sat down on the blanket. Kyla frowned, and he realized he must sound pathetic. “It’s taken me ten years to ask you out, so I was a little nervous you wouldn’t show up and—” He winced. How had those words come out? He’d only meant to think them, let them swirl in his head while he made some dull small-talk about the movie or the town. She really turned him into an idiot.
Kyla chuckled and tilted her head to the side, staring at him from underneath those long, dark lashes, her blue eyes twinkling with something akin to mischief. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t take you another ten years to kiss me, then.”
He was too stunned to even think of something to say, let alone say it out loud. He just stared at her with what had to be the silliest expression on his face. A moment later, she rolled her eyes, then grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him to her. Her lips were softer than he’d imagined all these years, as they brushed his with more force than he’d expected. Although he was shocked by the turn of events, he knew he couldn’t waste this chance he’d waited for so long. He angled his head and her lips parted, making all kinds of fireworks go off in his chest. It was all he’d imagined it would be, and so much more. It was the perfect kiss.
Kyla’s hands released his shirt and went up to loop around his neck, leaning closer to him. One of his hands went up to tangle in her hair, that was just as silky as he’d imagined, and she sighed against his lips. He was in seventh heaven.
The movie started playing, reminding him they weren’t alone, and he reluctantly pulled back. Kyla opened her eyes and grinned.
“I really couldn’t wait another ten years,” she said with a wink. Then she reached for the bag of popcorn he’d placed on the blanket and pulled out a fistful. “It wasn’t just you who’s waited ten years. You know, I still haven’t forgiven you for not asking me to prom.”
What?
Kyla laughed and leaned closer to his face when the couple nearby turned their heads toward her. “Don’t look so shocked. I can’t believe you never noticed I had a crush on you in high school,” she whispered.
His heart did a triple somersault and got stuck in his throat. She had a crush on him? The beautiful Irish girl everyone loved had actually had a crush on the outcast?
“I…no, I had no idea.” The words squeezed past his tight throat somehow, and he thought he might as well lay out all the cards, since she’d confessed her feelings. “I had a crush on you too, but I thought you were out of my league.”
She stopped munching on the popcorn and her eyes widened. Had he said too much? But before he could apologize or take the words back, she smiled and leaned into him.
“That’s good to know,” she whispered, just before brushing his lips with a quick peck. Then she snuggled closer and rested her head against his chest. And his world shifted completely off its axis.
“What were you thinking, kissing Morgan in the park?” Conor all but growled when Kyla walked into his kitchen the next morning. She was still riding the wave of excitement after the date of her dreams, so his harsh comment, before she’d even had her coffee, annoyed her big time.
“I wasn’t thinking about anything. I just enjoyed the moment. Very much, actually.” She didn’t bother asking how he knew, since she was well-used to the gossip mill, although she was curious to know who’d spilled the beans. It was barely eight-thirty—she would have expected someone to only show up at the pub around lunchtime and inform Conor about what his little sister had been up to with the town’s outcast.
Not that she cared what anyone thought, though. She’d waited ten years for a date with Caleb, and last night had been the coronation of that dream.
After she’d taken matters into her own hands and kissed him, they’d watched the movie and shared popcorn like a normal couple. She’d instinctively snuggled into him and even though at first he’d stiffened, he’d soon recovered and wrapped an arm around her as he leaned back against the trunk of the huge sycamore tree.
It had been the most wonderful night of her life. After the movie, he drove her home, since she’d walked to the park hoping for him to offer her a ride home. Then he’d kissed her goodnight before she unwillingly got out. She’d been happy Conor was working when she walked into his house, as she wanted to hold on to the thrill a bit longer. She wanted to replay the night in her mind, to close her eyes and remember the feel of Caleb’s lips, the warmth of his body as they sat on that blanket, the tingles that ran up and down her arm when they walked back to his car hand in hand. He’d waited ten years to ask her on a date but he’d made up for it.
“Kyla, are you listening to me?” Conor’s voice pulled her out of the memories. She walked up to the counter and reached for the carafe of fresh coffee. Conor handed her a mug, then leaned with his hip against the sink. She avoided his gaze and filled the mug, bringing it to her lips.
“Are you going to explain what happened last night?”
Kyla lifted a shoulder and reached for a slice of toast on a plate. “Do you have any jam?”
Conor groaned as he opened the fridge and handed her a jar. “Seriously, you’re back in town for a week, then you’re going back to New York. Did you have to make out with a guy in front of everyone? With Morgan, on top of it all?”
“His name is Caleb, and he’s a great guy,” she said, slightly annoyed at the way he referred to him by his last name. She took a bite of the toast and shrugged. “I’m old enough to make out with whomever I want and have a vacation fling if I wish to. I don’t need your permission.”
Conor had been an ultra-protective big brother ever since her birth, and she’d always loved it. Now she was old enough to make her own decisions, and as much as she loved him, she wasn’t going to let him meddle in her love life. Not that going on a date with Caleb Morgan could be considered love, although she wished she didn’t have to go back to New York and leave him behind now that she’d finally had the chance of getting close to him.
“You’re leaving in a few days, but I live here. People will talk.”
She rolled her eyes. “Gee, Conor! It was just a kiss. It’s not like we were rolling naked in the grass.”
Her brother choked on the coffee he was drinking, and she smiled. She’d hoped that, if she managed to embarrass him, he’d stop annoying her and she’d be free to have breakfast in peace.
“Fine, I get what you’re doing. No more talking about last night.” He placed the mug in the sink and spun around to face her. “But promise me you’ll stay away from Morgan. I don’t trust him.”
“You don’t even know him. Nobody ever gave him a chance, just because you all believe in a stupid legend that’s not even the truth.” She placed the mug on the counter with a little too much force, and he flinched. She was tired of these narrow-minded people and all the silly legends they believed in. She’d thought her brother would be smarter than that— apparently there was a side of Conor she didn’t know. “He’s a great guy, and all that nonsense about the curse is just that: nonsense. Having money and sharing a family name with the alleged founder of Fortune’s Bay doesn’t make him a delinquent.”
“You’ve been back for two days and you already know him so well? Come on, Kyla. Can’t you see he’s just playing with you?”
Her blood boiled in her veins at the innuendo in his voice. How could he be so mean about someone he didn’t even know? She bit her bottom lip, struggling to keep in the nasty words she wanted to say to him. She loved her brother—he was the one person who’d always supported her—and the last thing she wanted was to have a fight with him over a guy she didn’t know if she’d ever see again after this week was over. Caleb wasn’t playing. She’d been the one to kiss him first, and he’d been nothing but a gentleman until he dropped her off and drove away.
She glared at Conor, who stood by the counter with his arms crossed and the smug, lopsided grin he used to put on when they were kids and he knew he’
d won an argument. It had always annoyed her and it did even more now.
“Have a nice day,” she said, as she spun and stomped out of the room. She was going to get dressed and have a proper breakfast in town, then she’d e-mail the pictures she’d taken of Caleb’s paintings to her boss and, if luck was on her side, she’d get the promotion she was after. She couldn’t wait to see Caleb’s face when she told him his paintings would be shown at the gallery in New York—because she was sure her boss would love them. Once they organized the exhibit, he’d have to come to New York and they’d spend time together, away from prying eyes, town gossip, and silly legends. She was going to live her fairytale with her prince.
Caleb’s attention was focused on the book cover he’d been working on for the past couple of hours. To say the author, a thriller writer from Tennessee, was indecisive, was putting it mildly. Caleb had already submitted three versions, with different color palettes and different fonts, and they didn’t seem to be any closer to a final decision. He’d taken up book covers as an extra gig, just because he enjoyed the challenge, although he much preferred other kinds of graphic stuff, especially those that gave him complete control and allowed him to use his creativity at its full potential.
When Bear let out a bark and stood up on all fours, he blinked and looked away from the computer screen. He didn’t dare hope Kyla had come to visit again, so he assumed it was either the mailman or some animal outside in the garden that had caught the dog’s attention. He stretched his arms over his head and pushed the chair back. He was lucky he could move his office anywhere in the house or outside, according to how he was feeling that day. Today he was in the room with the big French doors facing the woods. It was the room he picked whenever he was feeling restless or stressed; the view of the lush trees, the green grass, and the sound of the stream in the distance helped him concentrate on the task at hand, especially if it was something he wasn’t exactly fond of. Like the book cover.
Bear let out another bark and left the room through the open French doors, trotting at full speed. When the high-pitched barks reached his ears, his heart leapt.
She’s here.
He raked his fingers through his hair, which probably needed a cut, and looked down at his outfit: a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a burgundy T-shirt. Not exactly fit for a date, but at least he wasn’t wearing old rags or paint-stained clothes.
He walked out and his lips curved into a smile when Kyla appeared, wearing another beautiful summer dress. This time it was similar to the sixties-style kind of dresses he’d seen on the Grease movie. The top had thin straps and hugged her breasts and torso, and the skirt flowed around her waist, reaching just below her knees. Splashes of fuchsia, orange, and green, on a white background, made her look like she’d just walked out of an Impressionist painting. Her black hair was tucked behind her ears, from which cute cherry-shaped earrings dangled.
“Hi,” she said, as she approached him. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at him, probably unsure as to how she should greet him. He had no idea, either. A part of him wanted to reach out for her and hold her in his arms, before kissing her until they were both breathless. Another part of him, the one he liked the least, reminded him she was going back to New York in a few days, and he knew from experience that long distance didn’t work.
She stopped right in front of him and crossed her arms on her chest, biting her bottom lip as her eyes bore into his.
“Hey, um…hi.” Gee, you’re so smooth, Caleb!
She smiled, then took a step closer. “Do you always make women beg for a kiss from you?”
He laughed and shook his head. Who cared if she was leaving? She was here now, and she was expecting a kiss from him. He wasn’t going to disappoint her.
He closed the distance and briefly touched her lips with his. A second later, her arms wrapped around his neck and she deepened the kiss—okay, so she didn’t regret last night. Not that he did; he just wasn’t sure where they stood.
“Hi,” he said, when she pulled back. It was dumb, but his brain cells weren’t exactly working at the moment.
She laughed and took a step back. “Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away. Since you’ve made me wait for ten years and all that.”
He rolled his eyes. “How long are you going to keep teasing me for that? It’s not like you ever gave me a hint you wouldn’t laugh at my face if I asked you out.”
She took his hand and squeezed it. Warmth traveled up the length of his arm and reached all the way to his heart. He had no idea what she was doing to him or why he was feeling this way. It was as if he was a teenager all over again. It was insane, but he’d never felt so good, so happy, like he felt when she was around.
“I have news,” she said, her voice nearly a squeal. He frowned, and her face broke into a wide smile. “My boss loved your paintings and, wait for it”—she tugged on his hand and jumped like a little girl—“he wants to organize an event, a special exhibit of your works to introduce you to the New York world of art lovers.”
His jaw dropped, as if it had suddenly become unhinged. His heart started an erratic dance, and he wasn’t sure whether he was more surprised or more annoyed. It was probably a bit of both, although annoyance prevailed by a few points.
“I’m sure our best clients will love your paintings. The press will be there too, so you’ll get great exposure. You’re going to be famous!”
“Hold on.” He lifted his free hand in front of her face as he freed the other from hers. “What are you talking about? How does your boss know about me?”
She lifted a shoulder, smiling naughtily like a little girl who got caught stealing cookies from the jar. “I may have taken a few pictures and e-mailed them to him. I needed his approval first, as he’s the one who has the final say on the organization of events. Plus, I wanted to surprise you.”
“I told you I wasn’t interested in showing my paintings. I told you they were personal. Didn’t you listen to me?”
She winced a little at his harsh tone. Surprise had completely given way to annoyance now. She had no right to share his private stuff without his permission, especially after he’d clearly told her his paintings were personal.
“I thought you were just being humble. I wanted everyone to see your beautiful paintings.” Her voice trembled a little, and he felt awful. She’d been happy and excited only five minutes ago, and he’d ruined it. Although it wasn’t all his fault, to be honest.
“I don’t want people to see them. I told you I don’t care about the money. You had no right to send those pictures to your boss.” He took a step back and crossed his arms on his chest. “You’ll have to tell him I’m not interested, before he starts organizing anything. I’m not going to change my mind.”
He knew he was probably overreacting, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d always considered his art the only remaining connection with his mother. After he left for college and was finally free to paint, without his father getting upset, he’d made the most of it, but was still reticent to share it with other people. It was something he thought of as a private part of his life, something he did to unwind but that he didn’t want other people to see. Because, in a way, he felt that if they looked at his paintings, it would give other people access to his mind and his soul—and he wasn’t comfortable having anyone getting to see that part of him.
“But…” She looked up at him. Her eyes were veiled with disappointment and she bit her trembling bottom lip. Even though he was mad at her, he wanted to kick himself for hurting her.
“Listen, I’m sorry I overreacted. You took me by surprise. I don’t like being ambushed.” He stepped closer to her and took her hand again. She resisted at first, so he gave a tug and pulled her to him, and she gave up the fight. He wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her cheek against his chest. And just like that, any traces of bad feelings were replaced by the feel-good warmth that enveloped his heart. He didn’t know how to label that emotion but he knew he reall
y liked it.
“I didn’t mean to ambush you.” Even though she spoke against his chest, he didn’t miss the indignant tone. “I probably should have asked for your permission before sending the pictures to my boss.” She pulled back and looked up at him. “I’m sorry. Although…I really think you should consider—”
“Kyla.” His tone was stern, but he couldn’t stop a corner of his lips from tilting up. The woman was persistent, he’d give her that. Then she smiled, and he forgot the reason why he was mad at her.
“Are you going to kick me off your land now?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow and a cute, mischievous smile. “Because Sugarpuff has been waiting all morning to see her friend. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her. She’s a very sensitive dog; she might never get over the hurt.”
He couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped his lips. She was just everything he looked for in a girl: smart, independent, easygoing, and funny. The fact she was gorgeous too was a bonus he wouldn’t complain about.
“I could never hurt such a cute dog. What kind of monster would do that?” He pulled her back against him and squeezed her. If it were up to him, he’d never let her leave.
Dude, get a grip!
“Thank you. Sugarpuff appreciates that.”
“And what about her roommate?” He released his hold just enough that he could look at her and still have her in his arms.
She smiled. “She does too. And she’d like to show you just how much.”
Her lips on his, a moment later, erased the stupid argument, and he knew right there and then that the moment Kyla Callaghan left town, his life would never be the same.
Chapter 4
Kyla put the empty crystal goblet on the table and pondered reaching for the bottle of sparkling white wine for a refill. It wasn’t that she didn’t like spending time with her family, when they weren’t criticizing her career choice or the fact she lived in New York and didn’t come home often enough. But as if watching her parents acting all lovey-dovey and acting like teenagers in love wasn’t enough to test her frazzled nerves, witnessing the change in her brother, who had turned into a lovesick puppy, who couldn’t seem to be able to be more than two feet away from his girlfriend without looking like a lost soul, had given her heart the last blow.
A Brush With Love In Fortune's Bay Page 5