13. Kai
Thirteen
Kai
“Hey, did I lose you?” Mary asks.
I blink, coming back to myself and letting go of those fucked up thoughts.
“What?”
She raises her eyebrows like she knows I’m full of shit, and I laugh.
“You went quiet for a second. Since that’s so rare, I thought maybe you got abducted by aliens.”
I laugh again. We both do.
And God help me, I realize I'd much rather be here driving around with her than doing just about anything else.
I shake my head.
Mary just smiles and turns her head to look out the window, and into the darkness.
And it hits me again.
Christ—she's pretty.
Not in the way magazine covers are pretty.
Not polished.
Not artificial.
Not perfect.
Real.
Warm.
Soft.
The kind of beautiful that sneaks up on you.
The kind that gets worse every time you look at it.
The kind that makes a man start thinking dangerous thoughts about forever.
Which is ridiculous.
Obviously.
“Anyway, Ego's digging around for me.”
Mary turns slightly in her seat.
“About the permits?”
Hope flickers across her face.
Small.
Fragile.
Enough to make me wish I had better news.
“Yeah.”
“Well?”
I sigh.
“Nothing concrete yet.”
The disappointment is immediate.
“Oh.”
“But.”
Her head lifts.
“But?”
“There's definitely something weird going on.”
She nods slowly.
“I figured.”
“The timeline doesn't make sense unless you look at the date of the dance.”
“And the punch,” she adds.
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, the donor withdrawals all came after.”
I tap the steering wheel.
“And something stinks.”
“That's encouraging.”
“It should be.”
“Why should that be encouraging?” Mary asks.
Because I can't stop.
Because I need her to believe this.
Because seeing her carry all this alone pisses me off.
“Because it means we're closer to figuring it out and reversing everything.”
The words leave before I can stop them.
Simple.
Certain.
Like a promise.
Maybe it is.
Mary goes quiet.
She turns toward the window.
Watching the lights slide past.
Then she smiles softly.
“I don’t know why this should mean so much to you, Kai, but I want to thank you all the same.”
“What?”
“Thank you. I mean it.”
Those two words? I don’t think they ever affected me like this.
Because it’s her saying them. And she says them like she means them.
Like nobody’s been standing beside her lately.
Like she’s gotten used to carrying everything herself.
And suddenly I’m thinking about lesson plans spread across her kitchen table.
About fundraiser meetings.
About permit applications.
About all the ways she’s been trying to save this school.
Alone.
I grip the steering wheel tighter.
Because I hate that.
I really fucking hate that.
Ten minutes later we pull onto her street.
The neighborhood is quiet.
Warm porch lights glowing against the darkness.
Families settling in for the night.
Home.
Mary's mother’s house appears halfway down the block.
Small.
Older.
Loved.
The porch light casts a golden glow across the front steps.
Flower boxes sit beneath the windows even though nothing's blooming yet.
The place looks exactly like her.
Comfortable.
Welcoming.
Real.
I pull to the curb and put the truck in park.
Neither of us moves immediately.
Neither of us seems particularly eager for the night to end.
And that realization settles somewhere deep in my chest.
Dangerous.
Very, very dangerous.
I walk her to the front door.
Partly because I'm a gentleman.
Partly because I don't want the night to end.
Definitely the second one.
Mary fumbles with her keys.
Then turns toward me.
Suddenly nervous.
Which is strange.
I've never seen her nervous before.
Not really.
“Thanks for tonight.”
“Anytime.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
The air shifts.
The teasing disappears.
The smiles soften.
And all I can see is her.
The freckles across her nose.
Her smooth peaches and cream skin.
The green of her eyes.
The way her pants cling to her heart-shaped ass.
Her sweet curves in that green top.
The way she keeps worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
My pulse kicks up.
“Kai?”
“Yeah?”
“I, um, I mean it. I had a really nice time tonight.”
I take a breath.
Then another.
Because I don't want to screw this up.
“I know you can't invite me in.”
Her eyebrows rise.
“You do?”
“You live with your mom.”
A smile tugs at her lips.
“That's true.”
I step closer.
Not touching.
Not yet.
Just close enough.
“But if I can…”
My voice comes out rougher than I intended.
“I'd really like to kiss you, Mary.”
Her eyes widen.
Just a little.
“You would?”
I laugh softly.
“Yeah. Is that so?”
More than she'd ever know.
“Yeah, that’s so. I’d really like to kiss you right now, Mary Donahue.”
For one terrifying second, I think she's going to say no.
My heart pounds so hard I can hear it.
Then she steps closer.
Not away.
Closer.
And suddenly all the air leaves my lungs.
She tilts her head back.
Her fingers curl into the front of my shirt, gripping the fabric like she's nervous too.
Like this isn't easy for her either.
That realization hits me harder than it should.
Because I think my brave little Firecracker is scared.
And somehow that makes this mean even more.
Then she pulls me down.
And kisses me.
Everything stops.
The street.
The night.
The distant hum of traffic.
The wind.
All of it fades away.
Gone.
It's not dramatic.
Not fireworks.
Not some over-the-top movie scene.
It's better than that.
Because it's real.
Warm.
Tentative.
Perfect.
Her lips are soft.
She tastes faintly like coffee and the peppermint candy she'd stolen from the Bingo refreshment table earlier.
I can't stop smiling against her mouth.
And when she feels it, she laughs softly.
The sound goes straight through me.
My hands settle carefully at her waist.
Not pulling.
Not demanding.
Just holding.
Giving her every chance in the world to walk away.
She doesn't.
If anything, she moves closer.
The porch light catches in her red hair.
Her green eyes flutter closed.
And God help me, I think I'm in trouble.
Real trouble.
Because this doesn’t feel like pretending.
Nothing about this is fake.
Not anymore.
Hell.
Maybe it never was.
When we finally pull apart, we're both breathing a little harder.
Staring at each other.
Neither of us is moving.
Neither of us is looking away.
“Kai?”
“Yeah?”
A shy smile appears.
One I've never seen before.
Not the sarcastic one.
Not the professional one.
Not the smile she gives everybody else.
This one feels like it's just for me.
“My mom's on a weekend trip.”
I blink.
“What?”
“Atlantic City.”
My brain immediately stops functioning.
“She left this morning.”
“Oh...”
Mary's cheeks turn pink.
“There's nobody else here.”
My pulse kicks up again.
She can’t mean… can she?
“Mary.”
Her name slips from my lips part growl, part wish.
“It’s just me.”
She looks up at me.
Those green eyes holding mine.
Trusting me.
And somehow that matters more than anything.
“And you,” she whispers.
The key still hangs forgotten in her hand.
The porch light glows above us.
The night feels suddenly smaller.
Quieter.
Like the rest of the world has fallen away.
I reach up and brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Are you sure?”
She nods.
“Yeah.”
“Because if I come inside, Firecracker, it's gonna be damn hard for me to leave.”
Her expression softens.
“I’m sure, Kai.”
My chest tightens.
There it is again.
That feeling.
The one I've been avoiding.
The one I've been pretending is just attraction.
Just curiosity.
Just fake dating.
Except, standing here looking at her, I know better.
Because when Mary smiles at me, the rest of the world disappears.
And for the first time in a long time, I don't want the night to end.
“Come inside,” she whispers and licks her kiss swollen lips.
Christ, this woman doesn’t know what she’s doing to me.
The porch light glows above us.
The key still hangs forgotten in her hand.
I take it from her and unlock the door—my gaze locked on hers the entire time.
She slowly steps backwards, not breaking eye contact.
And suddenly I'm pretty damn sure this fake dating thing has become very, very real.