by Cindy Kirk
“Go outside,” she told him.
“I’m in no rush, either.” Keenan studied her thoughtfully. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind us cutting out and finding our own entertainment. What do you say, Mitzi? Want to play hooky with me?”
Chapter Eight
Keenan couldn’t believe he expected Mitzi to leave her friend’s party. But when she tilted her head and the air surrounding them began to sizzle, the impulsive gesture made sense.
He wanted her. With him. Alone.
The thought was so far from baseball and book clubs that he had to grin.
A spark of interest flared in her blue eyes. “What do you have in mind?”
You. Me. Naked.
“I’m open to just about anything.” The fact that she asked told Keenan she was halfway out the door with him already. “The only thing off-limits is any discussion of Catcher in the Rye.”
Mitzi took a sip of wine. Considered.
Keenan reined in impatience. Was Winn the reason she was hesitating? Or did she simply want to hang with her friends this evening? God, he hoped not.
“Forget it.” Keenan swiped the air with his hand in a careless gesture. “You’re here because of the book club—”
“Can you really believe I want to spend the rest of my evening discussing some horrid story that I haven’t even read?” She curved her fingers around his biceps, and those luscious red-painted lips curved in a sly smile. “It’ll be like a jailbreak.”
Glancing around the warm and homey interior, at the table with its mountain of food, Keenan thought of the cell that had been his home in the Rawlins penitentiary. Jail? Not hardly. Still, he’d play along.
“Do you have a hideout in mind if Joel and Kate turn the dogs loose?”
Mitzi’s smile widened. “Of course I do.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
Though it would have been Keenan’s preference to slip out unnoticed, good manners dictated otherwise. Mitzi strolled into the family room to tell Kate, while he pulled Joel aside outside. Then they were free, and the winding road down the mountain beckoned.
Mitzi’s snazzy sports car zipped around curves then picked up even more speed on the highway into Jackson. She said she’d lead the way and he promised to follow. He didn’t expect the abrupt turn into the parking lot of a big-box store on the edge of town.
He wheeled his clunker next to her sporty BMW and got out. “Remembered some last-minute shopping?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Without looking to see if he would follow, she began walking toward the front of the store. “Tonight is Tuesday.”
He hurried to catch up. “Thanks for the news bulletin.”
The automatic doors slid open. The metal beams and fluorescent lights reminded him of a similar place that had been his second home growing up. That store had everything an impoverished family needed, including air-conditioning during the hottest summer days.
“It’s sample night.” Mitzi tossed her head, sending her glorious mane of hair scattering around her shoulders like falling autumn leaves. “Every Tuesday they set up food stations in the grocery section. You can eat for free.”
She was serious in her glee, and a spark of anticipation made her blue eyes shine.
Her enthusiasm made Keenan smile. “How do you know stuff like this?”
“I spent my share of years living on little to no money. I consider myself an expert on finding ways to conserve.” Mitzi smiled at the woman in the bright red smock and continued with purposeful steps past the customer service center to the grocery section. “They have this once a week. Every Tuesday. Until you get on your feet, you might want to keep it in mind.”
Until you get on your feet.
She understood—no believed—he wouldn’t be living paycheck to paycheck forever.
“I knew this night was on an upswing.” Her eyes lit up at the sight of the first sample station. “Shrimp. Yum.” For a second, he thought about mentioning the fried chicken and all the fabulous side dishes at Joel and Kate’s. But then he realized this wasn’t about food. It was about adventure, doing the unexpected and helping out a friend.
“I’d like a sample, please.” Mitzi flashed the older woman with the tightly permed gray hair a bright smile then accepted a small plastic cup holding three boiled shrimp.
Keenan waited.
Mitzi gestured with her head toward him. “My friend, he’d like a sample, too.”
Her friend. It had a good sound.
Keenan held out a hand for the shrimp.
Mitzi enjoyed the hour she spent with Keenan wandering up and down the aisles, sampling everything from black-bean chips to tiny bites of cake. The only item she refused was the chewy coconut macaroons.
“I hate anything with coconut,” she confided to Keenan, even as he eagerly reached for the sample.
So far she’d enjoyed the outing. With Keenan, she could be herself. Mitzi liked exchanging stories from childhood. Stories that others would find difficult to comprehend or perhaps even think she was joking.
She told him about studying every evening in the dilapidated library near her home because the place had air-conditioning and an internet connection. He confided spending time at home, even when he would have preferred to be running with his schoolmates, because he didn’t trust his mother’s “friends” around Betsy.
Because Mitzi wasn’t interested in Keenan romantically, it was easy to be honest. Once they’d visited the last sample station, they stepped out into the Indian-summer-night air. Being on the edge of Jackson was almost like being in the country.
Mitzi paused to gaze into the clear, star-filled sky. Keenan stood beside her, his head cocked back, his eyes focused up.
She briefly considered taking his hand...just because...but instead fell into step beside him.
It was warm for September, which was why most of the women shoppers they passed wore shorts or capris and sandals. Mitzi felt a bit overdressed in her flowing skirt, blousy top and heeled boots. But if the admiring glances sent her way were any indication, most men—including Keenan—liked what she wore.
“Did I mention I’m going to be flying to—” She gaped as Keenan took off running across the asphalt lot.
Mitzi watched first in irritated puzzlement then in horror as he headed directly into the path of a mammoth four-by-four.
“Keenan.” His name ripped from her throat, though she doubted he heard her over the truck’s pounding bass.
The driver missed him by inches, flipped up his middle finger, then hit the gas and sped from the lot.
Mitzi raced across the asphalt lot, her heart pounding. She slid to a stop in front of him, grabbed his arm in a death grip. “Are you crazy? You could have been killed. Whatever made you—”
Then she saw it. A tiny gray kitten cradled in his large, callused hands. While Mitzi stared, the animal lifted its head, fixed its green eyes on her and mewed.
The fur was longish but couldn’t hide that the kitten was beyond skinny. Ribs were prominent and green eyes enormous in a too-thin face.
Keenan’s eyes met hers. “He’d have run over her.” His voice held an icy edge. “He saw her and could have easily missed her. But he wanted to hit her.”
He stared into the distance, his eyes as cold as his words.
“Bastard,” he spat.
Mitzi turned in time to see the lights of the truck disappear from view.
“I’ve known men like him.” She thought of her sister’s second husband and shivered. “Guys into hurting women, children, animals, just because they can.”
A plaintive mew pulled Mitzi’s attention back to Keenan.
She stepped close, stroked the kitten’s head with two gentle fingers. “She’s tiny. How old do you think she is?”
Keenan pulled his gaze from the darkness. His eyes softened. “I’m guessing about four weeks.”
“What are we going to do with her?” Mitzi glanced around the parking lot, at all the cars and tr
ucks entering and exiting. For a baby like this one, danger was everywhere. She pulled her brows together in a worried frown. “We can’t leave her here.”
“No,” he agreed. “She’ll be hit. Or wander from the parking lot into the darkness and an animal will get her. We’ll drop her off at the shelter. She’ll be safe there.”
Mitzi started to shake her head even before he finished speaking. “According to the local news the shelter already has too many cats. Next weekend they’re offering special pricing to try to reduce the number.”
“It’s not fair,” Keenan murmured almost to himself. “Her life has barely begun and already she struggles.”
“You could keep her,” Mitzi suggested hopefully as they slowly crossed the lot to their vehicles.
“Can’t.” The word hung heavy with regret. “The boardinghouse where I live doesn’t allow pets.”
“What about your sister?”
“Puffy, their Pomeranian, despises cats.” Keenan paused when they reached her BMW. His hazel eyes met hers, held. “You could take her.”
“Me?” Surprise had the word coming out on a squeak.
“You have a house.”
“A house under construction,” she reminded him. Still, her gaze was drawn now to the kitten resting contentedly in the crook of his arm.
“Cats don’t need a lot of care.” Keenan rested a hand on the top of the low-slung car. “You had one. You know.”
Oreo. Mitzi’s heart lurched. The black-and-white had been one of the true bright lights of her childhood.
“Cats are self-sufficient.” Keenan’s tone turned persuasive. “Give ’em a litter box, food and water, and they’re happy.”
Mitzi gazed down at the kitten. “I wonder if I could teach her to do tricks like you did with Mr. Tubs.”
“You’ll keep her?” Relief etched itself on his face and sounded in his voice.
“I don’t see I have much choice.” Mitzi scooped the kitty from his arms, held her close then smiled as the animal began to purr. “She needed a break. Tonight she gets two. You saved her life. I’ll give her a home.”
The next couple of days passed quickly. Keenan saw the kitten, but not Mitzi. On Thursday, when he packed up his tools and headed to his car, she still wasn’t home.
He fought a surge of disappointment. It wasn’t that he was desperate to see her, he was merely curious how she and the kitten were getting along. All afternoon he’d had the feeling this was the day their paths would cross again. But he couldn’t hang around and wait any longer. Keenan had discovered Ben Campbell was an aviation medical examiner.
He’d been able to secure a late-afternoon appointment, scheduled after the doctor saw his last patient. He arrived a few minutes early, eager to complete the first step toward getting his pilot’s license.
Spring Gulch Orthopedics was an impressive structure, brick edged with stone with a massive timbered entry. As Keenan walked through the heavy wooden front doors with edged glass, it struck him how far apart his world was from the one Mitzi now inhabited.
They may have started out in similar situations but they were in far different places now. Not that it mattered. They were simply friends.
After checking in, Keenan took a seat in the waiting area and picked up a magazine.
“Mr. McGregor.” The receptionist, a cool and composed woman, with streaks of gray in her brown hair and steely blue eyes, motioned to him. “Dr. Campbell can see you now.”
As expected, the exam was over quickly. Afterward he and Ben talked for several minutes, catching up. The doctor mentioned he’d married one of Keenan’s classmates and they’d recently had a son.
“Because of my family, I like to stick close to home,” Ben confided as they strolled to the lobby. “I used to fly myself to the rural clinics, which was a good opportunity to get in some air time. Going forward, Dr. Sanchez will be making those trips. We’ve contracted with Grand Teton to provide the plane and the pilot.”
Keenan’s ear perked up. Grand Teton was the firm Bill’s brother, Steve Kowalski, owned. Keenan had high hopes that once he got his license, Steve would hire him to fill in as needed.
“Ben, are you busy?”
From the back of the medical office building, a feminine voice called out.
Keenan recognized the sultry lilt immediately. His heart lurched. Mitzi.
“In the lobby,” Ben said.
“I stopped in to see Mrs. Roth while I was at the hospital and—”
Surprise skittered across Mitzi’s face. She wore a white lab coat over a dress of vivid blue. Her hair was pulled back in some kind of twist. While her heels were incredibly sexy, simply looking at the high arch made Keenan’s feet ache. A stethoscope peeked out from one pocket. “Keenan. What are you doing here?”
Before he could respond, she flushed. “I’m sorry. Not my business.”
Ben’s gaze shifted from Mitzi to Keenan. “You two know each other?”
“I work for Joel Dennes,” Keenan spoke easily. “His company is building Dr. Sanchez’s new home.”
Puzzlement filled Mitzi’s eyes. He could see her trying to decide if he was simply answering the question or deliberately distancing himself from her.
“I’ve been pleased with the results.” Mitzi’s gaze shifted from Keenan’s legs to his arms. Worry filled her eyes and the look of puzzlement returned. “Okay, it’s not my business, but...did you injure yourself?”
“Nothing that exciting.” Keenan chuckled. “Aviation exam.”
“Oh. Good.” She expelled a breath, her fingers fluttering to her hair.
“I need to run.” Ben extended his hand. “It was great seeing you again, Keenan.”
Ben turned to Mitzi. “Mrs. Roth?”
“Nothing urgent. I can update you in the morning.”
“Sounds good.” Ben glanced at the door. “You’re the last one here.”
“I’ll lock up,” she told him.
When Keenan started to walk out after Ben, Mitzi grabbed his arm. “May I speak with you a minute?”
“Sure.”
Silence descended as the door clicked shut. The past few days Keenan had found himself hoping their paths would cross. He’d missed seeing her, talking to her, laughing with her. Now, she stood less than a foot away and he was as tongue-tied as a sixteen-year-old.
Mitzi cleared her throat. He wasn’t the only one having difficulty finding a voice. “I want to thank you for watching out for Itty Bitty.”
Keenan grimaced. “That’s what you decided to call her?”
He conveniently disregarded the fact that he and Bill had taken to calling the gray puff of fur “Miss Kitty,” which wasn’t much better.
Mitzi looked amused. “You don’t approve?”
“Seems a little...lame.”
“This from a man who had a cat named Mr. Tubs?”
“I was a kid when I came up with that name.” Then he thought of “Miss Kitty” and surrendered. “Itty Bitty is as good of a name as any. And there’s no need to thank me since I haven’t done anything.”
“I beg to differ.” She took a step closer and a familiar sizzle sparked in his belly. “When I get home, her litter box has been cleaned and she has fresh water. She’s smart but I doubt she’s handling those tasks herself.”
He simply grinned.
“Well.” She expelled a breath. “Thank you.”
Keenan jammed his hands into his pockets. “Are you happy you kept her?”
He prayed she’d say yes. He wasn’t sure where he’d start if he had to search for a new home. Keenan hadn’t been lying when he’d told her neither he nor his sister could take the kitten. But he wouldn’t let Miss Kitty, er, Itty Bitty, become one of many at an overcrowded shelter.
Mitzi’s eyes warmed. “I like having her waiting for me at the end of the day.”
“You work long hours.”
“Tell me about it.” She raked a hand through her hair, and he saw weariness edging those beautiful blue eyes.
> “It’s important to have balance.”
“You’re preaching to the choir. It’s just that lately I haven’t been able to fit in the fun.”
Not a problem. When an idea popped into his head, he smiled. He’d always been a master at seizing the moment. “Ever windsurfed?”
Mitzi shook her head. “Never tried it.”
“Jackson Lake is close.” Keenan kept his tone offhand. “There’s enough daylight left for me to give you a brief introduction to the sport. You’ll love it.”
“It’s warm outside,” she said slowly, as if genuinely considering the invitation. “But won’t the water be cold?”
“That’s what wetsuits are for.” Keenan smiled winningly. “C’mon, Mitzi, you know you want to do it.”
“You’re right. It sounds like great fun.” Mitzi looped her arm through his and grinned. “And just what this doctor needs after a long day.”
Mitzi fought to the water’s surface and gulped air. Though windsurfing might look easy, sound easy, she’d discovered the sport was darn hard. Even for someone in good shape.
She worked out regularly. Not only because she liked having a tight and toned body but because endurance was essential for long surgeries. Her tight core made standing on the board and finding her balance easy. Pulling the sail out of the water using the uphaul proved more...difficult. Maneuvering that sail to capture the wind while keeping her balance demanded concentration and skill.
“Weight in harness, front foot in.” She repeated the mantra to herself during what she suspected would be her final chance.
This last time, she’d gotten it right. The board had skimmed the water until she’d gotten close to shore and gone over. A keen sense of accomplishment mixed with exhilaration.
Keenan appeared beside her, treading water, a grin on her lips. “You looked like a pro out there.”
Though his words pleased her, pro was stretching it...by a mile.
“You’re the one who’s good. I’m guessing you’ve done this a few times.”
“Let’s just say that fun—” he shot her a wink “—used to be my life.”
Mitzi rested her hand on the floating board. “I want to do it again.”