Don't Give Me Butterflies

by Tara Sheets

  Kat’s fascination with Mr. Mysterious was beginning to escalate, and that was not good. So he had some hidden talents. Lots of guys did. She fought to ignore the warmth blooming inside her at the nearness of him.

  For long moments, they ate in companionable silence, staring into the flames.

  Waffles eventually grew bolder and wandered closer to the campfire. The faint sound of crickets melded with the sound of the breeze whispering through the tall grass. Kat was lulled into a deep sense of contentment. The warm fire. The s’mores. The stars overhead. The odd feeling of companionship with a person she barely knew.

  “I’ve never done this,” she mused.

  “Had s’mores and beer with a donkey in the middle of the night?” He speared another marshmallow with the stick and held it over the fire. “Me neither.”

  “No, this.” She gestured to the campfire. “The whole camping thing. I mean, I know we’re not camping, but still.”

  He studied her for a moment. “You grew up in California and never went camping?”

  A twinge of alarm gripped her. She didn’t usually talk about her past. “I grew up in a big city with a lot of things to do . . . but I just never got around to camping, I guess.” She searched for something to say to steer the conversation in another direction. “But it does seem odd to me. You out here by yourself, making s’mores. I mean, who does that?”

  “My grandmother’s idea,” he said.

  “Still—”

  “When I was a kid, she and my grandfather would sneak over late at night and we’d come out here on my birthday.”

  Kat suddenly didn’t feel like teasing him anymore. “It’s your birthday?”

  Jordan gave a half shrug. “Just a dumb tradition.”

  An odd sense of melancholy washed over her. “I don’t think it’s dumb. I think it’s pretty wonderful you had grandparents like that.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Why’d they have to sneak out late at night?” Kat asked.

  He stared into the fire for long moments. “My parents didn’t get along with them. So I rarely saw them.”

  “Oh.” Kat didn’t know what to say. Usually it was her story that rendered people at a loss. “Well,” she said as brightly as possible. “I like your family’s tradition.”

  “Not my family’s. Just mine. My grandparents started it when I was a kid, but over the years they stopped coming because my grandfather couldn’t drive at night.”

  Some of the warmth from the firelight seemed to ebb away. “So you celebrated your birthday out here . . . by yourself?”

  He took another sip of beer and gave her a quizzical look. “Don’t look so distraught. It wasn’t that big of a deal. My parents were what they liked to call ‘free spirits.’ They didn’t celebrate birthdays or holidays very often.”

  “But, why?” Kat asked. “Was it a religious thing, or something?” It didn’t make any sense. If Kat had a family, she’d make birthdays the most important thing in the world.

  “Because that would’ve required them to be responsible and dependable,” Jordan said casually. He appeared not to care, but Kat wasn’t fooled. “It would’ve required them to pay attention to calendar dates and conform to societal rules, which they shunned. This farm was their grand, hippie idea to live off the land. Except they never actually worked the land, so things were always falling apart.”

  Kat’s heart squeezed at the thought of Jordan as a small boy, living in such neglect. She finally understood a little about why he was so closed off. Growing up with such uncertainty made a person cautious. They had more in common than she realized.

  “How long have you lived here?” she asked.

  “I don’t live here, thank God,” he said firmly. “I live in Manhattan. I’ve taken a couple months off from my business to help my grandmother and to fix up the house. But I’m heading back as soon as that’s done.”

  Now it all made sense. “I knew you didn’t look like a lavender farmer. So that’s your plan. Fix up your family’s house, sell it, and then go back to New York?”

  “I’m not staying out here one moment longer than necessary.” The marshmallows fell into the fire, and he tossed the stick in after them. A muscle clenched in his jaw, as if he were steeling himself with resolve.

  Kat knew that look, because she’d felt it herself. She rallied for his sake. “Well, I’m happy I stumbled upon you and your secret birthday tradition.”

  Waffles snuffled her hair, and she laughed, swatting him away.

  The miniature donkey eyed Jordan. Or more precisely, he eyed the graham crackers. He took a tentative step toward him.

  “Now’s your chance,” Kat said in a stage whisper. “Just give him one, and you’ll make a friend for life.”

  Jordan shook his head, but he dug into the box and pulled out a broken square.

  Waffles tilted his nose up and sniffed the air, but he didn’t step closer.

  “Just ask him to come closer,” Kat urged.

  Jordan shot her a skeptical look. “Ask him? Just like that?”

  “Sure. Ask him. I talk to animals all the time. It’s the best way to befriend them.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  Kat didn’t know who was more stubborn, Jordan or the donkey. “Okay, then. Maybe put the graham cracker in between us, since he’s more comfortable with me.”

  Jordan surprised her by scooting closer.

  Her cheeks grew warm, and it had nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with Jordan Prescott sitting close enough that their shoulders were almost touching.

  Waffles backed away, standing just out of the circle of light.

  Kat crooned to the skittish animal, then called him closer. She was peering into the dark, but she could feel Jordan watching her.

  Waffles slowly moved forward until he was within an arm’s length of them.

  “That’s it,” Kat said. “Look what Jordan has for you. He brought them all the way out here just for you, because he wants to be friends.”

  She stole a quick glance at Jordan.

  He gave her a skeptical look.

  She almost laughed, but she didn’t want to startle the little donkey.

  Waffles waited a few more moments, then finally stretched his neck, plucked the graham cracker from Jordan’s hand, and trotted away. The sound of contented crunching could be heard beyond the circle of light.

  “That’s a win,” Kat said happily. “I think there’s hope for you yet.”

  He seemed pleased, in spite of himself. When his warm gaze lowered to her mouth, Kat suddenly felt as though everything slowed to a halt. She tried to remember all that stuff about living her own life and focusing on what she wanted, except the only thing she wanted right now was to lean closer and see what happened next. Would it be so bad? Just a simple, no-big-deal kiss? Maybe she should just go for it. Inside her, the Queen of Impulsive Decisions sat bolt upright amid her bed of stirring butterflies and nodded her head emphatically.

  Jordan shifted slightly, his broad shoulder touching hers.

  Awareness washed over her, and she took a shaky breath. Maybe they could just kiss this one time, and then it would be out of the way. Done. A funny moment she could laugh about later.

  Jordan’s expression grew more serious. Neither of them were smiling anymore. Kat knew with sudden certainty that no part of kissing him would be a laughing matter.

  Very slowly, he began to lean closer.

  Her mouth opened on a tiny inhale. Was this kiss actually happening? She exhaled softly as she tilted her face up. Maybe just this once—

  Suddenly, Jordan stiffened and bumped into her. Their faces mashed together awkwardly and he cursed, bracing a hand against the log. He spun around. “What the . . . ?”

  Waffles brayed once, then nudged Jordan’s back again with his nose.

  Kat stared wide-eyed at the donkey, who was now wedging his head between them, searching for more treats. The tension building inside her released in the form of a gi
ggle. Then another. She took one look at Jordan’s disgruntled expression and couldn’t stop.

  He leaned back against the fallen log with a heavy sigh.

  “I think you have a new best friend,” Kat managed. “He’s not scared of you anymore.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “It’s a good thing,” she insisted.

  “Right.” He reached into the box of graham crackers and pulled one out. “Here, you greedy beast.”

  Waffles took the treat and, instead of leaving, stayed right where he was, crunching the snack in Jordan’s face, dropping crumbs into his lap.

  “Admit it,” Kat said in a voice tinged with laughter. “You’re glad we showed up to help celebrate your birthday.”

  “It’s debatable.” He gently pushed Waffles to the side and rose to throw another log on the fire.

  “Oh, come on,” Kat teased. “At least we’re not boring. Think of us as a fabulous, unexpected birthday surprise.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re unexpected. I’ll say that.” He rose to throw another log on the fire. When he finished, he settled back on the ground a few feet away, like before.

  Okay. Kat took a sip of her beer. So the kissing window of opportunity was now firmly slammed shut. She felt a stab of disappointment, but she refused to let it linger. What the heck was wrong with her? She should be sighing with relief that they didn’t kiss. It would’ve just made things awkward. He’d be heading back to New York City soon, and she’d be settling into her new home here, and that was that. It was better this way.

  Jordan was sitting with his back propped against the log, one leg drawn up, a forearm resting on his knee as he stared into the fire. Even relaxed as he was, he exuded a sort of wild, tightly coiled energy that made her want to crawl over there and lay her hands on him just to see if it would resonate through her bones.

  She tore her gaze away and gave herself a quick mental shake. Get a grip. She knew better than to get all dreamy-eyed over someone like him. Most of her past relationships with men were tumultuous, whirlwind affairs, burning hot and bright in the beginning, then dying out faster than a candle in a windstorm. That’s probably all this was—a frivolous interest in him because he was new and mysterious. Better to recognize it now, before she let herself get swept away.

  Hugging her knees to her chest, she tipped her head back and let out a heavy sigh. Somehow, as much as she wanted to believe Jordan Prescott was no big deal, she couldn’t quite make the stretch. There were a lot of uncertainties in her life since she moved to Pine Cove Island, but one thing was as clear as the starry sky above. If she had kissed Jordan, it would not have been something she could easily forget. A person doesn’t just slide up and kiss a wild animal without losing a piece of themselves in the process. And as alluring as this beast was, she couldn’t risk it.

  Chapter Nine

  Kat stepped out of the shower feeling restless and a little off-center. Ever since the campfire moment with Jordan, she’d had a hard time keeping him out of her head. It would’ve been easier to forget about him if he’d just remained “Opal’s grandson” or Mr. Mysterious or even just Tall, Dark, and Broody. Sure, he was sexy as sin, but hey. She could’ve ignored that. Maybe. The problem was, she’d seen a different side of him last night. He’d been more easy and relaxed. When he told her a little about his childhood, it was like a door in her heart opened just a crack. He’d been easy to talk to. A great listener. Sweet to her animals, even when one of them greedily demanded graham crackers and derailed that kiss before it had a chance to happen.

  Muttering under her breath, Kat ran a comb through her damp hair, then walked out of the bathroom. Now things just felt all jumbled up inside. Jordan was a complication. That was the problem. Lord knew she’d always been attracted to complicated men.

  “But not this time, Hank,” she told her dog as she flopped onto the recliner.

  Hank jumped into her lap.

  “This time I’m staying on track. No complications.”

  A text message popped up on her phone. She didn’t recognize the number.

  Hey, it’s Bobby. Are you free for dinner tonight?

  Kat stared at the message, considering. Nothing complicated about Bobby Bankston, and his cowboy charm wasn’t lost on her, either. He even lived on the island, which was a big plus. But he was Smitty’s nephew, and it was probably better not to date her boss’s relatives. Besides, she’d already sworn off men until she established her new life on her own terms. She started to text a polite reply when another message popped up.

  This dinner invitation is strictly for the purpose of learning more about the puppy I adopted.

  Not because I think you’re cute, or anything.

  Scout’s honor.

  Kat grinned, then texted back. I have it on good authority that you were never a Boy Scout.

  A long pause.

  Come to dinner with me anyway. I’ll tell you stories about how I drove my aunt crazy when I was a kid.

  That sounded entertaining. And she was kind of hungry . . .

  Okay, Kat texted back. That won me over.

  Not my charm and ridiculous good looks?

  Nope.

  I can live with it. Pick you up at seven?

  Kat agreed and tossed her phone on the recliner, then went in search of something to wear.

  * * *

  Jordan sat across from Layla Gentry at the Silver Coho Grill. The small restaurant was a renovated house with modern décor and low, intimate lighting. They’d just spent the last hour going over the details of his property, comparable pricing, and the right time to sell.

  Layla was on another one of her rants about the market, and Jordan just let her talk. They’d been friends for a long time, and he knew how passionate she was about her business. After all, that was why he’d chosen her. Of all the Realtors on the island, Layla Gentry knew the market better than anyone. If he was going to turn the property around and make a decent profit, Layla was the one who’d help him do it.

  He signaled the waiter for the check, then stopped when he saw the couple coming through the front entrance.

  “But enough about all that drama,” Layla said with a throaty laugh. “What about you? What’s going on with your business back home?”

  Jordan murmured something in response, distracted by the petite, curvy redhead in the fitted black dress. Kat. She was smiling up at some guy in a ridiculous cowboy hat as the hostess led them to a table . . . right next to his. Of course.

  Kat sat down and scanned the restaurant. When their eyes met, she looked startled, then she glanced at Layla, who was reading a menu.

  The waiter stopped to refill Jordan’s glass.

  “Mmm, let’s have dessert,” Layla announced. “What looks good?”

  It would have taken a herculean effort not to look at Kat in that moment.

  “Ooh, this one has homemade French vanilla whipped cream. Yum,” Layla said with enthusiasm.

  Kat raised her brows, her bright green eyes dancing with humor.

  He suddenly wanted to laugh. She had the oddest way of doing that to him.

  Kat’s date said something, and she turned toward him.

  Disappointment and something sharper twisted in Jordan’s gut. Something he wasn’t accustomed to feeling. Jealousy? Surely not.

  He finished off his wine and forced his attention back to Layla. He’d agreed to meet with her so they could discuss the property, but Layla had drawn out the dinner with talk of people they both knew from high school. If there was one thing he remembered most about her, it was her knowledge of all the latest gossip. It didn’t bother him because he knew the level of importance she placed on her position in the community, and he understood why.

  Layla had once been dirt poor like him, and she’d clawed her way to the top through sheer force of will. She was smart. Pretty. Determined. All things he admired. They’d once tried dating back in high school, but that had been a total flop. Both of them quickly realize
d there was no spark, and they’d even laughed about it later. Layla was like the sister he never had. All he felt was a brotherly affection for her and an admiration for how far she’d come. Being around her was comfortable and easy.

  Kat laughed at something her date said, and Jordan flicked a glance in her direction. She was reading the menu, her hair a riot of bright curls around her delicate face.

  He frowned. Nothing comfortable about Kat. Everything about her bothered him, especially the sassy way she tilted her chin, and the lush fullness of her mouth, and the soft curves of her body in that form-fitting black dress. Yeah, he was bothered, all right, but he didn’t care to examine why.

  Forcing his attention back to the menu, he pretended to read the dessert choices.

  “What’re you going to have?” Layla asked. “I think the crème brûlée sounds good.”

  Kat said something to her date in a low, throaty murmur that made Jordan’s skin prickle in awareness and blood flow in a heated rush through his torso . . . and lower. Christ. Just the low pitch of her silky voice made his body jerk to attention like a horny teenager.

  Jordan grimaced and set the menu aside. He needed to get out of there. “I’m not having any.”

  Layla looked surprised. “Really? But you love dessert.”

  Kat stifled a laugh. It might’ve been because of something her date was saying, but Jordan had the distinct feeling she was laughing at him.

  Her date reached across the table, pointing to a small scar on his hand.

  Kat studied it, tracing the pad of the man’s thumb with the tip of her finger.

  A sharp pang twisted inside him again, making him feel hot and irritable. What the hell was wrong with him? It couldn’t be jealousy, except it damn well felt like it. He shifted uncomfortably on his chair. “Why don’t we go to the pie bar over on Seventh Avenue?”

  Layla brightened. “Sure. I love that place.”

  Jordan signaled for the waiter. He had absolutely no desire for pie or for prolonging their dinner meeting, but he’d do anything to get out of the restaurant. The last thing he wanted to do was sit beside Kat Davenport while she fawned over some other man. Not because he was jealous, of course. It just wasn’t any of his business. That was all.