“You’ve got a shadow.” Kyle nodded at Jet, moving along closely at Skylar’s side.
“I guess he couldn’t sleep either.” She glanced down at the dog and chuckled. “They do toss and turn, don’t they?” she asked Jet, his tail wagging in answer.
Brynn and Mya had patted the middle of the double bed they were sharing until he’d jumped up. But her girls were full of wriggles and squeaks and, after they’d dozed off, he’d jumped down to sprawl on the floor between the two beds.
“I’d hoped Greer would fuss herself out,” Skylar said. “But I rolled over to see Jet staring, eyes fixed on me, until I got up. Once I was up, he followed me to the crib and hasn’t left my side since.”
“Guess he’s figured out who his people are and how to take care of them.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking rather pleased. “He’s a smart dog.”
Skylar nodded.
“I remember the day Chad and I spotted him.” Kyle squatted, clapping his hands until Jet came to him. “He was skin and bones—covered in sand fleas and limping something horrible. But Chad broke off a piece of jerky for him and that was that—Jet never left his side.” He gave Jet a good scratch behind the ear. “He’s true-blue. Like Chad.” His voice grew gruff, the slight shake of his head making Skylar pause.
What was he thinking?
Greer chose that moment to yawn, wriggle, squawk, and stare up at her with wide, startled eyes.
“Did you scare yourself?” Skylar asked, laughing softly as Greer’s little eyes closed. She adjusted her daughter, her tiny head resting against Skylar’s shoulder. “You can sleep now, sweet girl. Momma and Jet...and Kyle are all here to watch over you.” She instantly regretted including Kyle. That, this, had to stop. For now, they’d be roommates, of sort. But once she found someplace else, they’d go. A place to live and a car. And Mya’s surgery? She didn’t want to wait on that...
“There’s that face again.” Kyle was watching her closely.
“My brain doesn’t want to turn off.” She hedged. “All the things I need to do. All the things I want to do—for the girls.”
“And yourself?” he asked. “You’re allowed to do a little something for yourself, too.”
“I don’t need or want anything.” She shrugged. “When do I start my job?”
“You need to call Buzz Lafferty first thing in the morning. Good guy. We went to high school together.”
“Buzz?” Skylar asked. “Military?”
He shook his head. “He came to school start of junior high after spending the summer with his grandmother. He said she was on his case about taking care of himself and got sick of his messy hair so she gave him a buzz cut—so close, it was Christmas before he had any real hair back on his head.”
Skylar smiled, shaking her head. “Poor kid.”
“Nah, he’s got a great sense of humor. You’ll like him.” His gaze shifted to Greer. “She out?”
“Like a light.” Skylar nodded. “Finally.” She sighed—then jumped at the press of Kyle’s warm hand against her back.
“Guess she needed some fresh air.” Kyle’s voice was pitched low, his gaze fixed on Greer.
But Skylar couldn’t get past his nearness. When they were close this way, it was almost like Kyle had cast some invisible net—one she couldn’t escape from. Not that she wanted to. If anything, she wanted him to pull her in, closer and closer...
She hadn’t realized she was staring at him until he was staring back, eyes blazing and jaw locked. His hand remained against her back but his touch was tense now—more braced than supporting.
She’d pondered their almost kiss more than once. What would have happened if Brynn hadn’t called out? She would most definitely have kissed him...that much, she knew. But would he have kissed her back? There’d been a conflicted look on his face—like there was now—that made her uncertain.
Of course, he was uncertain. She swallowed. Their situation couldn’t be any more complicated. Well, it could. If she kissed him. If she kissed him, a line would be crossed and then...then what? There was no going back.
Now that he was out of the military, he had a new life to start—rebuilding relationships with his brothers and doing his part on his family’s huge ranch. This couldn’t have been what he’d imagined. Being saddled with Chad’s widow and three little girls. Moves and hospital visits and long car trips and screaming babies... Not the more promising way to spend the first month of his new life.
He’d honored his word—and then some. She would be forever grateful to him. Her gaze swept over his face. Even in the dim light, his features were strong and manly. His thick brows, angular jaw, and full lips...
“I’m not sure what’s going on in that head of yours, but it doesn’t look good.” His voice remained low, a gruff whisper on the night air.
“I’m...I’m tired.” She stepped away.
“And?” he pushed, one eyebrow rising high. “I get the feeling there’s more to it than that.”
She shrugged.
“Don’t want to talk about it?” he asked.
“No.” She sighed.
“You don’t think it would help?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned.
Admitting that she was weighing the pros and cons of kissing him probably wouldn’t help. Not in the least. She pressed her face to the top of Greer’s head, covering her smile. “I don’t think so.”
His eyes were intently searching—so much that, for a moment, Skylar worried he might actually be able to figure out what she’d been thinking. Don’t be ridiculous.
And yet...the longer his gaze held hers, the thinner the air between them became. She was acutely aware of each breath she took—of each breath he took. The warmth of his hand against her back radiated across her skin and caused the slightest shudder.
With a slight shake of his head, his other hand came up to cradle her cheek.
The urge to lean into his touch rolled over her, building and rising until there was no other choice.
“I want to kiss you, Skylar,” he whispered. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything so much.”
She swallowed.
He continued, “But I—”
She pressed her lips against his, silencing whatever reason, likely a good one, that they shouldn’t do this. She knew they shouldn’t but... He wanted to kiss her. More than anything.
And if she wasn’t so caught up in the feel of his lips on hers, the brush of his breath on her cheek, and his soft groan when the kiss deepened, she’d have told him that she knew exactly how he felt. If there was one thing she’d wish for, it was this: kissing Kyle Mitchell until she couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea.
* * *
Kyle was overcome. This was wrong.
This was Skylar.
Chad’s wife.
Chad’s widow—thanks to him.
She’d never want him—not once she knew he’d abandoned Chad on the day he died. She’d hate him... She’d hate him even more for this.
The realization was as effective as a kick to the gut. Coldness seeped in, warring with the throb of want his body refused to turn away from. With a shudder, he ended the kiss and stepped back. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he managed.
“You didn’t do anything.” She blinked, looking as stunned he felt. “I did.”
He ran a hand over his face, doing his damnedest not to note the flush on her cheeks and the fire in her eyes. Not to reach out and stroke the softness of her lips...
Skylar blinked rapidly, the rise and fall of her chest slowing the longer they stood staring at one another, lost in their own thoughts.
He was a fool. A damn fool. “Still, it shouldn’t have happened. The last couple of days have been one thing after another...” He paused, searching for the right words—any excuse really—to ensure this never happened again. No matter
how much he might want it. Or want her. “We’re both tired and not thinking clearly... Or this wouldn’t have happened.” He could only wish that was true.
“You’re right.” She nodded, her gaze falling from his. “This... I’m so sorry. I was just... Well...” She shook her head, her gaze falling from his. “But I’m sorry.”
“No.” He held up his hand. “How about we both agree to forget this ever happened? Pick up tomorrow morning and chalk this up as a dream or something...” As if that was remotely possible.
She nodded.
“Good.” Not good. How was he ever going to look at her without thinking about how soft her lips were and how sweet they felt pressed against his.
“I should... Greer’s finally sleeping.” She headed toward her door, Jet following along closely. “I’ll say good-night.”
“Get some sleep.” He forced himself to smile, forced himself to act like his whole world hadn’t just been tilted on its axis.
But once the door closed behind her, he leaned forward to grip the handrail of the porch.
What am I doing?
Then again, it was not like he had a choice. No, damn it, that’s not true.
He might not be able to stop the pounding of his heart or the tenderness she stirred but he could damn well stop himself from doing anything about it.
He stared out into the blackness, knowing sleep was more impossible than ever. Sleep, for him, was a rarity anyway. Normally, his nightmares woke him. Not a nightmare so much as memories. Hellish and inescapable and all the worse because they were real and there was no changing the outcome.
And every damn night he was stuck right back in the middle of it all.
The day Chad died.
Waking up in the infirmary with Jet at his side and knowing something was wrong. Running down the hall—an endless hall—and out under the cloudless sky and blistering sun just in time to see the Humvees roll in. Things slowed then, magnifying every detail until he could taste the dust from the spray of the tires and feel the triple-digit heat searing his skin. The urgency with which everyone was moving slowed more and more... By the time Chad was pulled from the rear of the vehicle, everyone around Kyle was almost at a standstill. He moved normally, pleaded for them to hurry—to do something while Chad was still breathing.
Kyle pushed off the railing, the fury and self-loathing all but crushing his chest.
He’d left Chad alone, made Skylar a widow, and now he thought it was okay to kiss her? He had no right. None. It wasn’t okay. It was anything but okay. What he was thinking and feeling was wrong. He’d promised Chad he’d take care of Skylar and the girls—not try to take his place.
He ran a hand over his face, headed inside, and turned on the ancient laptop he’d left behind.
Taking care of the girls meant taking care of Mya. Skylar was eager to get her in to a hearing specialist—someone who could assess whether or not Mya was a candidate for a cochlear implant.
I can do that.
He opened the internet, the connection slow going, and started researching options. Around three in the morning, his eyelids closed on him.
He woke three hours later, to the tug of a little hand on his sleeve.
“Kyle,” Brynn whispered.
Kyle sat up, the crick in his neck and dull throb in his back from sleeping hunched over the table instantly eased at the sight of Brynn’s sweet smile. “Morning, Brynn.”
Brynn smiled. “Morning. Momma made pancakes.”
“She did?” He yawned, rolling his head.
“Want some?” she asked, stepping back and waving him toward her. “Momma said come on.”
Kyle repeated, smiling, “She did?”
“Hurry hurry.” Brynn nodded, grabbing his hand and tugging until he’d stood and followed her down the open airway, to the add-on kitchen and eat-in dining room.
Sure enough, there was Skylar flipping pancakes on an electric hot plate.
Greer sat in her infant car seat, braced securely on top of the table, while Mya stood on a stool beside Skylar, watching everything her mother did closely.
“He’s here, Momma,” Brynn announced.
“You didn’t wake him up?” Skylar asked, turning. But she took one look at him and sighed. “Brynn, honey, did you wake him up? Poor Kyle needs his sleep.”
Brynn’s lower lip flipped out.
“No, I was waking up.” Kyle jumped in, that lip flip reaching right inside his chest and giving his heart a hard and fast tug. “She didn’t wake me.” He winked at Brynn.
Brynn grinned.
“Uh-huh.” Skylar didn’t buy it, but she didn’t argue. She turned back to the pancakes. “The kitchen is stocked with enough for a nice breakfast and lunch but I should probably head into town for groceries before too long.” She paused. “Or we...since I don’t have a vehicle. Yet.”
He liked the determination in her voice. He liked the way Greer lit up and cooed, more like squealed, when he took her little foot and wiggled it. He liked the way Mya waved and Brynn took his hand to lead him to a chair at the table.
He liked all of it.
Being here, with them. It felt like home.
And that was the problem.
“I did some research last night,” he said, wishing he’d shaved or changed his shirt or generally cleaned himself up a bit. “On doctors—for Mya.”
Skylar turned, spatula upright, to look at him with those big brown eyes. “You did?”
“Figured I should do something productive with my time and since this was something that needed to be done... I hope you don’t mind.” He wasn’t sure what else he’d been planning to say. Once Skylar started smiling at him that way, her smile was pretty much all he registered.
“Momma’s pretty,” Brynn said. “Her smile.”
“She sure is,” Kyle agreed. “How do you say pretty?”
Brynn shrugged and both he and Brynn turned to look at Skylar, expectant.
“I’m not sure.” Skylar turned back to the pancakes, sliding a stack from the hot plate onto one of the plates waiting on the counter.
“Sounds like we need to find out.” Kyle stood. “Can I help?”
“No.” Skylar handed him a plate. “Thank you. We’ve got this.” She smiled at Mya. “Mya likes cooking.”
“These look good.” He made a big production out of rubbing his stomach until Mya was laughing. “Thank you,” he said, signing for Mya.
Mya nodded.
A pancake breakfast meant puddles of syrup, laughter, and Jet cleaning up dropped bits of food within seconds of it hitting the floor. Thanks to the girls, the dog had plenty to eat.
Afterward, Kyle cleaned up—insisting Skylar sit still while he and Brynn hand washed the few dishes they’d used.
“We’re taking turns, Momma,” Brynn said.
It was hard for Skylar to sit—he could tell. But all the more reason for her to do just that. When was the last time someone had cleaned up? Or cooked for her? Frank didn’t look like the sort to pitch in and take turns. Frank Kline was a selfish bastard...and not worth wasting energy on. Besides, Kyle wanted to enjoy this morning—enjoy the girls and Skylar and the simple pleasure of one another’s company.
“Done?” Brynn asked, bringing him back to the present. His kitchen—full of laughter and busyness.
“What do you think?” Kyle asked, looking at Brynn.
Brynn stood on the stool, her wide eyes sweeping the kitchen for anything they might have missed.
“Your cup?” she asked, grabbing on to his arm to step down.
“I think Kyle might need more coffee,” Skylar said, her gaze fixed on him.
“I think Kyle does need more coffee,” he agreed.
“I’ll get it,” Brynn offered.
Kyle scooped her up, off her feet, and spun her around. “I appreciat
e that, Brynn, but if you got burned by my old coffee, I’d never forgive myself.”
Brynn was giggling and breathless. “Okay.”
He set her down and headed for the coffeepot. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mya flipping through the pages of a colorful illustrated book titled Basic Sign Language for Communication.
He poured himself another cup of coffee and sat beside Mya, reading over her shoulder.
It was straightforward enough stuff. A picture, the word, then the sign. As bright as Mya was, he was pretty sure she wasn’t reading. But, for the most part, the pictures did the job.
“This is from her old audiologist,” Skylar said, Greer propped in her lap. “It’s well-read.”
“Nice doctor,” Brynn said from the floor. She lay on her stomach, face-to-face with Jet—whispering to the dog. “Aw-di-owl-o-gist.”
Kyle nodded. “Sounds about right to me.”
“He had lollipops,” Brynn said, smiling.
“That was a treat.” Skylar nodded.
“Lollipops, huh?” he asked. “Your daddy loved lollipops, too. Did you know that?”
Brynn sat up, shaking her head.
“He always had a little bag of them—the little ones that tasted real sweet. Pineapple, root beer, cherry, all sorts.”
Skylar nodded. “We mailed a bag with every care package. Do you remember?” She waited, her smile almost slipping when Brynn shook her head. “Well, we did. And he loved getting the care packages we sent him.”
“Can we send one to Daddy in Heaven?” Brynn asked.
Kyle stared into his coffee cup, feeling like an ass for bringing up Chad. If he’d stopped and thought things through, he’d have realized she was too young for this. At the very least, he should have asked Skylar for permission.
“Sorry,” he murmured, his gaze meeting Skylar’s.
Skylar placed her hand on his. “Don’t be. I want them to know their father. You spent more time with him than...than anyone. Me, included.” There was no bitterness in her voice. Only sadness.
“Can we, Momma?” Brynn repeated, stroking Jet’s head—who’d moved closer for that very purpose.
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