Chapter Seventeen
Vanessa greeted Kyle McPherson with a cup of coffee the next morning.
Paul’s brother had stumbled onto the back porch about an hour after she woke up.
He’d stood with his back to her, facing the lake.
His arms were braced wide on the porch railing, his hair a rumpled brown disarray.
He looked like an unsteady boat passenger trying to get his sea legs.
As she filled two mugs, she studied his broad shoulders and tall form.
His physique was similar to Paul’s. Almost identical, in fact.
Emily wasn’t up yet, so she walked outside with the mugs. She used her hip to open the screen door. Kyle turned his head to watch her approach. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw shadowed with stubble. The family resemblance wasn’t quite as apparent from the front.
“Paul’s still asleep?” she asked.
“Yes,” Kyle said. “He’s going to be useless today.”
She offered him the coffee mug.
“Bless you,” he said as he accepted the cup. He took an experimental sip. “This is how Paul takes it.”
“Do you want sugar? I’ll trade you.”
He exchanged mugs with her, and seemed to find the sweeter version more palatable. Vanessa didn’t mind the bitter cup, Paul style. She hid a smile, remembering how they’d spent the previous morning, as she settled into the wooden chair.
Kyle studied her with a curious, somewhat bleary gaze. His eyes were a brighter blue than Paul’s, and not as serious. He had a relaxed, carefree vibe. He also reminded her of Bennett—suave, handsome, full of shit.
“You were both drunk as skunks last night,” she said.
His brows rose. “Were we? I can’t recall.”
She sipped her coffee while he drew a vape pen from his pocket. He put the device to his lips, inhaled the smoke, and exhaled in a scent-free puff of vapor.
“What are your plans for the day?” she asked.
“I have to drive back to Houston.”
“Right now?”
He flashed a wan smile. “In a few hours. I promised my son I’d go to his soccer game. Hopefully, by the time I get there, I’ll be able to endure the shouting on the sidelines.”
They shared a brief silence. Vanessa got the impression that Kyle didn’t approve of her. Maybe he was annoyed with the lack of amenities in Cabin 7, and blamed her. Maybe he distrusted women, in general.
“So,” Vanessa said. “You’re a cop.”
His brows drew together. “Paul told you that?”
“Is it a secret?”
“No. I’m just surprised he mentioned it.”
“He doesn’t share much.”
Kyle put his vape pen away and turned toward her. He scanned her figure in an appreciative sweep. “From what I gather, you’ve managed to squeeze a lot out of him.”
She sipped her coffee with narrowed eyes. “Is that a sex joke?”
“It’s a double entendre,” he said, with zero shame.
“How charming,” she said coolly. “You’re fond of those. I heard the one last night, too. About measuring circumference.”
Kyle took a fortifying gulp of coffee. “You were eavesdropping.”
“Not at all. Eavesdropping is listening to a private conversation. You two were talking loud enough to wake the dead.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“You said something about bunnies.”
“Did I?”
“What does it mean?”
Kyle drank more coffee, and didn’t answer.
“Playboy bunny?” she guessed.
“No,” he said, with a huff of laughter. “Quite the opposite.”
Vanessa’s spine stiffened. “Really?”
“They aren’t mutually exclusive, but a Playboy bunny is someone you date for fun. You don’t bring her home to meet your mother.”
“The other bunny is the nice-girl type,” she surmised. “For a serious relationship.”
Kyle shrugged. “I didn’t invent the term.”
Now she understood why Paul had suggested they retire it. “You think he should avoid bunnies?”
“I don’t think that. He does it on his own.”
“And you both consider me a bunny?”
“If the cotton-tail fits …”
“You’re wrong,” she said flatly.
“You look like fun,” Kyle said. “But you’re marriage material.”
“I just got out of a bad marriage. The last thing I want to do is jump into another.”
“That’s what my ex said. A year later, she was engaged.”
“Is she happy now?”
Kyle squinted at her in an expression that made him look more like his brother.
She wanted to ask him how Paul had been shot, and other burning questions, but she didn’t.
Their conversation had discomfited her, though she hadn’t heard all of it.
She knew they’d exchanged insults, and their late-night wrestling match hadn’t seemed all that friendly.
The bad blood between them was none of her business.
She had enough family drama of her own to deal with.
Plus, she couldn’t afford to act too serious.
She was not a bunny, damn it. Her interest in Paul was purely sexual. She wasn’t going to fall in love with him just because he’d built her daughter a lemonade stand. He wasn’t going to fall for her, either. This was a meaningless summer fling.
So why were they going out on a real date?
She finished her coffee with a queasy feeling.
Kyle had planted a seed of uncertainty. He’d brought her insecurities back to the surface.
She’d been worried about the intensity between her and Paul.
She’d warned herself not to get attached.
Two days ago, she’d decided not to date him at all.
Somehow, that minor conflict had faded into the background.
She’d disregarded her concerns about his secretive nature.
Logic had flown out the window and lust had taken over.
Kyle retreated into the opposite cabin with her coffee mug. She made a big breakfast and prepared two plates, covered with foil, to deliver next door. Kyle accepted this peace offering with an effusive thanks.
She realized, too late, that it was exactly what a bunny would do. Two hours later, Kyle drove away in his expensive car. She wasn’t sorry to see him leave.
The rest of the day passed slowly. Paul emerged from his cabin with bloodshot eyes.
When she offered him an iced coffee, he shook his head.
Emily was eager to revive the lemonade stand, but Vanessa didn’t have the energy for it.
She didn’t want to look at another lemon.
They packed a light lunch and went to the swimming beach with Emily’s new floaty instead.
She figured Paul would appreciate the peace and quiet.
After a few hours in the sun, they returned to the cabin for a nap.
Paul walked to the campground to shower and came back with a much fresher look.
He wore his cowboy hat pulled low, like always, but she could see a ghost of a smile on his face.
She leaned her forearms against the porch railing to watch his approach.
“Feeling human again?”
“Barely.”
“Do you want to postpone our date?”
“No.”
“I’m going to take Emily to my dad’s. You can pick me up there.”
“Okay,” he said. “What time?”
“Seven?”
“I’ll be ready.”
She gave him the address and retreated inside the cabin.
Stomach fluttering, she considered her outfit for the evening.
She’d sold most of her designer clothes before she left Denver, but she still had a few nice outfits packed away.
She searched through her luggage for a dress that suited the occasion, and her mood.
An hour later, she was at her father’s place. Emily ran to greet Jackson with open arms, Penelope clutched in one hand.
While Jackson took Emily inside to play with her dollhouse, Vanessa gathered her garment bag and makeup.
It was about one hundred degrees in the full sunlight, with heavy humidity, so she hadn’t bothered to get ready ahead of time.
She walked into the garage with her arms full and her skin damp with perspiration.
“Why don’t you let me carry that?”
She startled at the sound of her father’s voice and almost tripped over the garment bag.
Eric Nava stood in the doorway with a welcoming expression.
Although their last conversation hadn’t solved their differences, it had ended the long stretch of silence between them.
Instead of bristling at his suggestion, she handed him her bag, and she didn’t object when he offered a cold drink from the fridge.
“Thanks,” she said, gulping water.
“I know you have the cabin for the next few weeks,” he said. “What are your plans for the rest of the summer?”
Vanessa still resented his interference with the vacation rental. She hadn’t asked for his help, and she didn’t appreciate feeling beholden to him. She also didn’t want to admit that she had no specific plans, and very little money. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Jackson said you were broke.”
“Jackson should mind his own business.”
“My door is always open,” he said. “There’s no reason for you to struggle.”
She took another sip of water, and remained silent.
“You have a date tonight?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you’re going out. It’s healthy.”
“I don’t need your approval.”
Her father took the hint that she wasn’t in the mood to chat. Shaking his head, he lifted his hands and walked away.
She retreated to an upstairs bathroom to get ready.
She’d chosen a poppy-colored chiffon dress she’d bought on a whim last summer but never worn.
It was knee-length and flirty, with a plunging neckline and an open back.
She took her time getting ready while Emily ate dinner with Jackson and her father.
She donned a pair of strappy heels and twisted her hair into a loose bun.
Light makeup completed the look. When she was finished, she studied her appearance with a critical eye.
“Jackson,” she called down the hall.
“What?”
“Come here.”
He appeared in the doorway.
“Tell me the truth,” she said. “Do I look like the kind of woman you take home to meet your mother?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“No.”
He gave her a quick study. “You’ve got a lot of, ah, skin showing,” he said, touching the center of his own chest.
“Too much?”
“Too much for a family dinner, yeah.”
She smiled with relief and grabbed her purse. “Then I’m ready.”