A Kiss Is Just a Kiss

by Melinda Curtis

  Kitty refrained from rolling her eyes. “It was–”

  “He stopped when the policeman said to go.” Grandma Dotty was nothing if not truthful. “How was I not supposed to hit him?”

  Beck’s jaw dropped.

  Kitty couldn’t contain her smile. This was where Beck would lose his cool and ditch them. Kitty would be vindicated if he left them stranded in Florida. And since he’d delivered them to the cradle of Grandma Dotty’s family, they wouldn’t be without resources to get to Tybee Island.

  “Can I help you?” The blue shirt and navy pants would’ve given the young man away as a mechanic if his greasy hands holding a greasy blue rag hadn’t. His red and white name tag said Vic.

  Beck gave Kitty a look that said they’d discuss Grandma driving his precious truck later. “We have a problem.” Beck pointed toward the hood. “If I had to guess, I’d say radiator.”

  Vic puckered his mouth the way people did when they didn’t want to deliver bad news. “Here’s the thing. We close early on Saturdays. And we’re not open on Sundays. I can’t help you.”

  “You can’t…” Grandma jerked back into her high society persona. “Young man, do you know who I am?”

  His glance catalogued the granny-granddaughter twinsies with their matching board shorts, pink flamingos and pink heart sunglasses. He shook his head.

  Kitty tossed her sunglasses on the dashboard.

  Grandma released the belt buckle and scooted across the seat toward the door. “Vic? Is that your name? I’m Dorothy Robertson Summer and you will fix this vehicle A.S.A.P.”

  Vic didn’t back down. As a south Florida resident, seeing the elderly throw a tantrum was probably nothing new to him. “Nice to meet you, ma’am, but–”

  With the agility of a cautious toddler on an unfamiliar jungle gym, Grandma climbed slowly off the seat, onto the running board, and then to the ground. She settled her pink hat on her white hair and pushed her sunglasses up her nose. “Vic, I’m part owner of this dealership. My photograph hangs inside this building.” Her words echoed into the empty service bays.

  Go, Grandma.

  Vic and Beck looked taken aback. It was worth saving Beck’s truck to see her grandmother clear-headed and in control.

  “Do not…” Dotty was saying, propping her fists on her hips. “I repeat, do not make me call my brother Winthrop.”

  Uh-oh. Dotty went from concrete to crazy so fast it made Kitty’s head spin.

  “Winthrop Robertson?” Vic released a breath and actually smiled a little.

  “Um, Grandma.”

  “I see it’s still hard to find good help.” Dotty waved Kitty off. “Yes, Winthrop Robertson. My brother. Your boss.”

  “Grandma…”

  But Vic was quicker than Kitty and far less sensitive. “Look, lady. Winthrop died, like, two years ago.”

  Kitty scrambled out of the truck, put her arm around her grandmother and glared at Vic. “She really is Winthrop’s sister. She’s just tired and forgot he was…gone.”

  “Gone…” Dotty blinked at her surroundings. “As in dead gone?”

  “Apparently,” said Beck, sans sensitivity. He turned to Vic. “Don’t you have someone who can take a look at my truck? I’ll pay double.”

  “You will not.” Dotty got her second wind. She shook off Kitty’s arm and shook her finger at Vic. “I want to speak to your manager.”

  “Sure.” Vic shrugged and disappeared into a service bay.

  “You need to get out of this heat.” Kitty pointed toward the service manager’s desk, which was housed behind a wall of glass and might be air conditioned.

  “Winthrop is dead?” Dotty walked slowly toward the door.

  Kitty began to follow, but then heard Beck murmur, “I loved this truck.”

  She whirled on him. “It’s not dead.” And geez, Beck was supposed to love her sister, but he looked more morose over a little dent than he’d been over his bride running away.

  Beck stared at the diminishing steam and mangled chrome. “This will take days to fix and even then, it’ll never be the same. I should rent a car.”

  I, not we. Something inside Kitty panged. “A car? You wouldn’t be able to pick up Mags,” she reminded him, in a carefully neutral voice.

  His eyes returned to her with a heat that rivaled the day’s temperature. “You think I care about that filly more than my fiancée?”

  “Yes.” In reality, she didn’t know who or what he cared about, or how much. And that was the problem. She’d shirked her duty to her sisters, and now guilt tumbled in her stomach like storm surge hitting the shore.

  Kitty turned away. Her grandmother was wandering around the dealership unchaperoned and sometimes it was best to leave a man to his thoughts.

  She caught up to Dotty inside.

  Grandma stared at a row of black and white pictures on the wall. “That’s me.” She pointed to a row of women in bathing suits with sashes across their waists. She was the only one wearing a tiara. “I won Miss Florida. My father drove me to New York for the Miss U.S.A. pageant, and that’s where I met your grandfather. He was a pageant judge.” She sighed and then stared at the martini drinking flamingo on her shirt. “I had it going on once, didn’t I?”

  “More than once.” Kitty rested her head on Dotty’s shoulder.

  Vic approached with an older, heavier man wearing the same navy mechanic’s uniform.

  He introduced himself as the service manager. “Are you the one claiming to be a Robertson?” The man may have been older than Vic, but he wasn’t much wiser or any better at customer service.

  Grandma drew herself up and pointed to a photo of her sitting on the hood of a race car wearing white coveralls and a grin as big as the moon. “That’s me, you fool. Can’t you see the resemblance?”

  Everyone peered at the photo, in which Grandma looked like she was barely old enough to drive. She’d been a babe back then, but she was just another old lady in Florida now.

  Kitty removed Grandma’s heart-shaped sunglasses before facing the mechanics. “I’m her granddaughter, Dr. Kathryn Summer.” Beck would probably argue they’d also lost their minds, too. “My grandmother is a Robertson. We can call someone in the family if you like.” Kitty flipped through her mental contact list. “Uncle Lyle. Or my cousin Philippa or Creighton.” She hoped she didn’t have to deal with Creighton. “We’re taking my grandmother to Atlanta and we need reliable transportation.”

  “You’d be out of here quicker if you bought a new truck.” Vic was apparently über sensitive (not) and über concerned for his fellow man (not). “Especially if something other than the radiator needs to be replaced.”

  A man in his thirties with the pert Robertson nose entered through a side door. He wore a white shirt, blue tie, diamond-crusted rings, and a salesman’s smile. “Great Aunt Dotty.” He swept Grandma into a hug that knocked her pink hat off. “Was there an accident? Are you okay?”

  Grandma bent to pick up the pink ball cap, looking a little lost. Most likely, she didn’t recognize her nephew now that he was a grown man.

  “Creighton.” Kitty stepped into her second-cousin’s arms for a brisk hug. He was her least favorite Robinson relative, but she’d take any family over Vic right now. “I haven’t seen you in eight or ten years.” Thankfully.

  “Not since I beat you at the family summer games in Tybee.” And there it was. That triumphant grin that set Kitty’s teeth on edge. His gaze flicked to her ensemble. “Did you lose another bet in a boat race?”

  “We lost our luggage,” Kitty said quickly before Creighton asked if she was on a bender. “Did I miss you at the wedding today?”

  “Didn’t go. Big sale. Dad and Philippa are in Detroit for a conference. I couldn’t get away.” Creighton turned his attention Beck’s way, giving him a once-over. His smile broadened the way a car salesman’s smile did when he saw desperation and dollar signs. “I hear you’ve got transportation issues.”

  “We rear-ended a hotel shuttle bus,”
Beck said, suddenly inclusive of Kitty and Dotty. “We need to get to Tybee Island as soon as possible. If you’ve got a streamlined purchase process and a dually, I can buy a new truck.”

  He was breaking off his love affair with his black beast? Kitty’s life would be so much easier if Beck gave up on Maggie, too. But she had to admit, she’d be disappointed in him if he did.

  “New truck. Pashaw.” Grandma waved that idea aside. “Creighton will fix yours in a jiffy. Why, you’re practically family.” She turned faded, uncertain brown eyes to Kitty. “Isn’t he?”

  “He’s as close to being in the family as a person can get,” Kitty confirmed with a nod.

  Creighton tilted his head, considering Beck’s truck. “Can you give me a minute to discuss this with my service manager?”

  “Of course.” Kitty drew Dotty toward the windows and a view of row upon row of new trucks, none of them the kind with dual wheels in the back. When Beck joined them, she whispered, “I can’t believe you’d just give up on your truck. How disloyal.”

  Beck’s eyes flashed back to vengeful mode. “Don’t go thinking I get rid of things at the first sign of trouble. It’s just…It’ll never be the same. The frame might be damaged. I need things in my life I can trust.”

  That would never be Kitty.

  “Good news!” Creighton’s voice was back-slapping happy. His grin was just as slick. “Give us until tomorrow morning and your truck will be as good as new.”

  “Drivable,” Vic muttered with a shake of his head.

  “See?” Dotty beamed. “Family always takes care of family.”

  “Always,” Creighton agreed, with a dismissive nod to the service crew. “Now, I’m afraid I can’t offer you dinner tonight. My wife called earlier. She’s having contractions. Not to worry,” he said quickly at Kitty’s sharp intake of breath. “This is our fourth kid and I know I’ve got a few more hours until things get serious.”

  Creighton knew nothing. Every pregnancy was different. Kitty refilled her lungs with air, ready to tell her cousin the well-being of his wife and child shouldn’t come second to car sales, but Beck laid a hand on Kitty’s shoulder–not to hold her back or shut her up. His touch was gentle, as if he knew she was upset by Creighton’s callousness.

  “You should be with your wife,” Beck said, passing his palm across Kitty’s shoulder blades and back again as if to comfort her. “We understand. If we can trouble you for a loaner for the night and a recommendation for a hotel, we’ll get out of your hair.”

  “A hotel by the beach, of course,” Dotty said, owl-eyed. “With room service.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Beck said, smiling down at Kitty as if they weren’t at odds with each other.

  As if he didn’t regret their kiss.

  Chapter 6

  Beck was no car thief. Nor was he heartless.

  More’s the pity.

  Beck couldn’t bring himself to leave the Summer women in West Palm Beach.

  He should abscond with the car and leave them with their family. He’d seen Kitty bristle when Creighton talked. She didn’t seem on the best of terms with her cousin.

  It shouldn’t matter what Kitty preferred. It did. Beck couldn’t leave them. He could call his parents many things–poor horsemen, poor businessmen, poor parents–but they’d raised Beck to respect and protect women.

  So, he’d checked them into a hotel, took them to dinner at a Cuban restaurant on the beach, and listened to tales of Dotty’s wild youth.

  “But enough about me.” Dotty looked at Kitty with the kind of pride Beck had always wanted to see in his parents’ eyes. “Kitty was the serious one. Keeping the family together, even when the younger ones ran wild. She’s been a particularly good influence on Maggie.”

  From what he knew of Kitty, that fit. Maggie and her sisters idolized her. What didn’t fit was Kitty’s behavior today. “So, Kitty never ran away from home? Or went to an all-night party?”

  They shook their heads.

  They sat on a patio at the restaurant overlooking the boardwalk. A shade sail made the heat bearable. Beyond the bushes, the ocean rolled in on gentle waves. The dress code in the restaurant was casual and his companions’ tacky pink flamingos didn’t look out of place.

  “My biggest rebellion was stepping away from the family and focusing on med school.” Kitty cradled her sangria in both hands and stared into its depths. “Not much of a rebellion.”

  Replace horses for sisters and her life sounded more like Beck’s. But he couldn’t let her know that. “So you never dated a dangerous man?”

  Kitty rolled her big brown eyes and tossed her hair. She’d taken it down from the intricate braids. It rippled in the breeze coming off the ocean.

  “Kitty doesn’t have the patience for a dangerous man,” Dotty said sagely. “She barely has patience for men, period.”

  “You’re making me sound like a nun,” Kitty protested, slim brows arching.

  Too bad for Kitty, Dotty was clear as a bell this evening. “You have a three-date limit.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Who was your latest beau? Clark?” Dotty leaned toward the center of the table, a sparkle in her eyes. “Clark took you to a fundraising dinner you paid for, a Broadway matinee, and the Museum of Modern Art.” Dotty shifted toward Beck and whispered, “MOMA was free to the public that day.”

  Beck chuckled. “Clark was definitely not dangerous.” More like a miser.

  Kitty took a generous sip of sangria.

  “Before that it was that man you used to work with.” Dotty raised her faded brown eyes to the sky. “What did Maggie call him? Dr. Hunky?”

  “His name is Hank.” Pink rode high in Kitty’s cheeks.

  Thoroughly enjoying himself, Beck prodded Dotty. “How many dates did she have with Dr. Hunky?”

  “Three.” The elderly woman practically sang the answer back to him. The breeze turned strong, tossing Dotty’s short white hair every which way. Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she looked at Beck. “Now. How many dates have you had with Kitty?”

  Without thinking, Beck played along. “This is my first.”

  “Don’t.” Kitty’s voice was as cold as tack iron on a winter’s morning. She touched her grandmother’s arm. “Are you ready to go back to the hotel?”

  “I’m sorry,” Beck said, a sickening twist in his stomach. Everything twisted tighter when he saw there were tears in Kitty’s eyes. “That was inappropriate.”

  “What’s inappropriate?” Dotty stared at the margarita-drinking flamingo on Kitty’s T-shirt. “Am I your prom chaperone? Were you drinking?”

  Kitty stood and hauled her grandmother to her feet. “He’s not my date. I never went to prom. It’s time we went back to the hotel.”

  They didn’t talk on the way back to their rooms.

  From the boardwalk, Beck watched the waves roll in and wreak havoc with the shoreline and the people there. His life had been hit by a powerful wave, too. And that wave was named Kitty. Growing up, she’d been over-protective of her siblings. That’s why when she misunderstood his remarks about the filly, she’d leapt to her sister’s defense. Could he blame her?

  Only for not confronting him about her suspicions then and there.

  A few minutes later, Beck entered his room and spotted the rental car keys on the hotel desk. Again, he was tempted to leave Kitty and Dotty. He should be racing to Maggie’s side. He should be calling her parents and groveling. He shouldn’t be sitting in a hotel room contemplating the value of the cost of a small bottle of whiskey and wondering if the alcohol would silence the small voice in his head that whispered about bad luck and dodging a bullet.

  He hadn’t dodged anything. He loved Maggie. She was steady and predictable.

  Or at least, she had been. Although their relationship had never been tested like this.

  He hated that he had doubts. He hated that he’d had doubts before Kitty had kissed him.

  A chair scraped on the outdo
or patio his room shared with Kitty’s. Anger rumbled through his veins like thundering hooves racing around the bend. By rights, he should’ve been married by now. He should’ve been blissfully happy with his continued good fortune. And he would’ve been. If not for Kitty’s kiss.

  He opened the slider, immediately embraced by the lingering heat of the day and the noise from happy families near the pool. All the upstairs rooms were booked. Their rooms were on the ground floor and faced east, toward the ocean rolling to the beach fifty yards away.

  Kitty sat staring at the graying sky. She didn’t look up when Beck pulled a beige metal chair to face hers and sat in it.

  “My comment about Maggie can’t have been the only reason you took action today.” Beck kept his voice low in case Dotty was still awake. “Were you jealous? Did you begrudge your baby sister the spotlight?”

  She shook her head, still not looking at him. “You aren’t in love with her.”

  The pork he’d had for dinner turned in his stomach. “We could have talked your concerns through. You didn’t have to kiss me.”

  Her dark gaze sought his, asking a question he couldn’t fathom. “That kiss was an acid test. And you didn’t pass.”

  Unlike Maggie, she was infuriating in nearly every way. “You kissed me. How could I not pass?”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth and then back to the sky. “You kissed me back.”

  The anger he’d been feeling toward her reared and changed directions, racing inward. He was guilty. He had returned her kiss. He stared at his hands, clenching them against rising doubt. “It was a reflexive response.”

  “It was more than a reflex.” She refused to look at him. “It went on.”

  It had. For too long. He’d avoided thinking about their kiss in detail because he was afraid of what that meant. He’d thought he loved Maggie. Until today. If what he’d felt for Maggie hadn’t been love strong enough for marriage, what was?

  His thoughts spun in circles that made him dizzy. He needed a distraction, so he went on the attack, letting all his messy emotion spill out. “You ruined my wedding. You ruined my truck. You ruined my business plan.” He sounded pathetic. Most likely because he was. He’d told Maggie he loved her. He’d asked her to marry him. Why hadn’t he booked the next plane out today after being freed from security? Why hadn’t he rented a vehicle to keep on driving?