Chapter 12
CAMI
Either Kyle Rogers had nerves of steel or he just wasn’t that into me.
I’d sworn I’d felt sparks fly between us from the minute we ran into each other on Centennial Street.
We’d continued flirting and nearly kissed Monday morning before being so rudely interrupted by the police.
And he’d been like a sexy he-man protector when facing down the armed men who’d handcuffed me.
Then nothing. Kindness and continued protectiveness while he set me up in his house.
Friendliness while he cooked for me and invited me to make myself at home.
Interest as he asked questions about my life and shared some details from his.
But the sparks had been doused with a bucket of cold water from his end, while I still felt fizzy and warm in special places when he flashed me a dimpled smile or brushed against me as we worked together in the kitchen.
A few times, I caught him watching me and I saw something in his eyes in the split second before he realized it. I thought it was lust, hunger, the same primeval longing I felt for him. But then it was gone and he returned to being calm, cool, and unaffected by me.
In all my past relationships, physical and emotional connections had progressed in a straight line, whether going up or down. With Kyle, I couldn’t even see the graph. The signals he was sending were so scrambled, I’d lost all sense of direction.
Monday night, we had dinner and a glass of wine—the second for me, the first for him—and truly pleasant conversation.
I shared details about my business. I told him that Doc, who was now in his 70s, had developed hand tremors a few years ago.
He’d had to stop operating. Then his wife had fallen ill, and he’d had to cut back on clinic hours.
Eventually, he’d sold the controlling share of the practice to me.
Kyle listened intently, asked gentle questions, and understood before I could tell him how scary it had been to buy a business at age thirty, long before I was ready to be the boss, because I it was the only hope of keeping the clinic going.
I felt so close to him, I wanted to crawl into his arms so he could hold me all night.
After dinner, we cleared the dishes together.
Then he led Bella upstairs to the crate we’d set up in the guest room and settled her in for the night.
When he returned and set the receiving end of the monitoring system I’d brought from the clinic on the coffee table, I thought we’d settle in for more conversation or to watch a movie.
Instead, he placed a pile of folded sheets beside the monitor and began arranging them on the sofa.
We hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements, but it would be an understatement to say I was disappointed he didn’t even mention the possibility of sharing his bed.
“I can do that,” I told him. “You don’t need to make up my sheets.”
“These aren’t your sheets,” he said. “You’ll sleep in my bed.”
Thank God.
“I’ll sleep down here.”
Damn it.
“I can’t let you give up your bed for me,” I said. Please, please, please consider joining me.
“It’s already a done deal,” he said. “I changed the sheets, and put some more towels in the bathroom for you. Feel free to look around for anything else you need and let me know if you can’t find it.
I’ll be awake a little longer because I need to order a few things for Bella, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to wake me. ”
What if what I needed was him? What if I needed him to hold me because I was suddenly embarrassed that I’d opened up too much and been too vulnerable?
I was usually smarter than that, more careful, more protective of my privacy.
I didn’t ask those questions because I didn’t have the nerve and, besides, he picked up his black kit bag and went to the powder room.
I took the not-too-subtle hint and showed myself to his room.
Ten minutes later, dressed in a cute pair of summer pajamas that would make Gina proud, I crawled between cool, fresh sheets. The day that had begun with me ogling Kyle’s erection ended with me in his bed. Alone.
Tuesday morning, I followed the smell of freshly-brewed coffee down the stairs. Bella lay in the front hall on a new dog bed.
“Coffee’s ready,” Kyle called. “I’ll be there in a minute to make breakfast.”
He was cooking for me again. As if I my lady bits didn’t crave him enough, now he was going to make my stomach a slave to him as well.
I glanced into the office. He was wearing torn jeans and a tight, Army-green T-shirt.
He’d run painter’s tape along the ceiling and was positioning plastic sheeting on the floor.
“Painting day,” I said. “What’s the color?”
He pointed to a test spot on the wall. “Sage green.”
I didn’t know whether I was more impressed by his tasteful choice or his knowledge that there was more than one category of “green”.
We spent breakfast, lunch, and dinner—all made by him—at his kitchen table, talking, laughing, and learning about each other.
He was circumspect about his career as an Army Ranger and his position with the security company, but he shared the broad strokes and funny anecdotes from each.
I’d lived a pretty mundane life by comparison and didn’t have much to add to all the deep, dark secrets I’d spilled on Monday, so I tried to steer the conversations toward his life.
He didn’t make it easy, always cracking a joke to make me laugh and drop my defenses, then moving in with questions about me.
I answered a few but evaded most of them.
When he told me about his parents’ divorce when he was ten, and how his mother took the job of a lifetime that required her to travel most of the time, I felt the walls between us crumbling.
He kept his tone light and worked in funny anecdotes about living with his new-bachelor father, but he couldn’t hide the pain when he talked about how the family breaking up had changed his brother from a funny, outgoing kid to a sad and introverted one.
Most days, Kyle had been the only one who could even make his brother smile.
And then I understood where he’d learned the skill he used so deftly on me. But I didn’t think it was a ploy. It was something he did when he truly cared. Was he trying to tell me he had feelings for me? I didn’t pursue it because I didn’t want to make a fool of myself again.
In between our long conversations, he painted the office and I worked on business management tasks. Occasionally, I texted with Gina, who was nearly as disappointed about the separate sleeping arrangements as I was. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was his decision, not mine.
After another great dinner and our long day of bonding, he carried Bella up to her room while I finished the dishes. When he returned, he poured a glass of whisky for each of us. We stood across from each other with him leaning against the sink and me leaning against the kitchen island.
He lifted his glass and proposed a toast. “To friends.”
“To friends.” I clinked his glass and we sipped our drinks.
I waited for more, for him to propose we become more than friends or friends with benefits, or to step closer and wrap his arms around me, sliding his big, warm hand under the hem of my shirt and pressing his palm against the bare skin of my back.
Instead, he tossed back the rest of his drink and set his glass in the sink. “Well, good night. Sleep well, Cami.”
“Wait, you’re going to bed this early?” I glanced at the microwave. It wasn’t even 10:00 p.m.
He shook his head. “Actually, I have work to do. Even when I have time off, I usually have to keep up with ongoing...cases.”
“Okay.”
“Remember, if you need anything—”
“You’re on the sofa.” I nodded. “I remember.”
And that’s how I ended up in Kyle’s bed for a second night. Alone again.
Wednesday morning, I entertained an increasingly restless Bella.
We played on the deck. I gently rolled a ball between her paws and she nudged it back to me with her nose.
No running, chasing, or exertion allowed.
I kept her outside while Kyle did the noisy parts of putting his office together, like installing the baseboards and repositioning the desk.
He joined us mid-morning and announced the project was complete. He smiled as he held something behind his back. “If I recall correctly, Dr. Vaughn, last night you said this good girl could go on a short walk today.”
“I did say that, and I meant it.”
He pulled out a harness with an extendable leash attached. “Will this work with her stitches?”
“It looks like it will be fine.” I took the harness and placed it on her quickly but carefully, then nodded. “The straps fall inches in front of the incisions, so it’s perfect.”
We spent a few minutes in the yard where I showed Kyle how to give Bella more leash and then less.
It had been the first lesson I’d learned about dog care when my dad had finally let me have one.
I’d picked Sonny at the animal shelter when he was six months old, and the old boy had stayed with me for seventeen years.
I blinked back tears as I watched Kyle and Bella.
I’d been mourning Sonny for over two years, but I didn’t realize how raw the pain still was until I watched them learning to work together the way Sonny and I had all those years ago.
Kyle didn’t miss my tears. He didn’t miss anything. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. I was just remembering my dog, Sonny. I got him when I was twelve, and lost him a couple of years ago.” Tears rolled down my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m being ridiculous. It’s just that every now and then, I suddenly remember he’s gone and it hurts all over again.”
“You’re not being ridiculous.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders in a side hug. “There’s never enough time with those we love.”