21. Sloan
SLOAN
Sloan hadn’t intended to invite Kyle over. Especially not when her house looked like this—boxes, a couple of dog beds, and bowls on the ground. Dog crates.
And that’s it.
Her footsteps as she stepped in and held the door. “Come on in.”
Kyle stepped through, followed her up the stairs to the main level, then nearly skidded to a stop. He looked back at her sharply, a quizzical raise of his brow. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Oh, shut it,” she said. She flipped the light on and shut the door as Charlie and Sadie started to bark and paw at their crates. “First of all, I just moved.”
She hurried over toward the crates and unlatched them. Both dogs nearly leaped on her, rather than going over to investigate the stranger who’d just entered the house.
“Great guard dogs,” Kyle observed wryly. He shook his head at Sadie. “I should have known she’d be a goldendoodle.” Then he crouched and held his hand out to Charlie. “Here, girl.”
Sloan’s lips opened with mock outrage. “What’s that supposed to mean?” A small part of her was delighted to see Charlie nearly pounce on Kyle, front paws on his shoulders, tongue on his chin.
“It means,” Kyle said, in between hellos to Charlie, “that goldendoodles are exactly the type of dog that someone like you would own. You know, goofy as hell, partial commitment to the whole dog hair thing.”
Sloan looped her arms around Sadie’s neck. “Don’t you hurt her feelings. This is her first time meeting you.” She shot him a grin while Charlie continued to try to lick Kyle’s face. “Besides. I have Charlie, too.”
Kyle focused on Charlie. “Down, all right. Down.” Charlie sat, then lay on the floor and rolled over. He scratched her belly gently. “Charlie isn’t the type of dog you would choose for yourself, though.”
Her mouth opened in mock outrage. “I would so choose her.”
He shook his head. “She’s like the comfy sweater in the discount clothing store that ends up being your favorite because you got it from a friend, but not because you shop at discount stores.”
Ouch. But not entirely wrong.
Didn’t mean she loved that he saw her that way. Or that, if she were that person, she should continue that behavior.
Still, his perceptiveness made her heart squeeze.
She’d nearly lost it back there in the parking lot when she’d first seen him, standing there, at his truck, healthy. Whole.
But the anger had stolen her breath away. Bruised her.
And then, for a few seconds, she’d almost thought he might kiss her.
He hadn’t, though.
She wasn’t completely sure he’d ever forgive her.
But he was here. And not just because she was holding his grandmother hostage—morbid as that sounded. He’d agreed to come even before he’d learned that.
The silence had just started to get a little too thick when Kyle looked around the empty living room. “So, what’s second of all?”
She furrowed her brow. “Huh?”
“You said the house looked like this, first of all , because you just moved.”
“That was like a whole two minutes ago.”
“You left me hanging. I’m curious. What’s second of all?” He sat on the floor, legs stretched in front of him, still petting Charlie.
Sloan released Sadie, who, jealous of the attention Charlie was getting, scampered over to Kyle and lay down for her own rubs. Traitors.
“Second of all . . .” Sloan looked at the boxes, then shrugged. “This is it. All I own. In those boxes. It’s mostly clothes.”
He rested his weight back on his right hand. “And you don’t think that’s a problem? Where are you going to sleep?”
“On the floor, I guess. At least for tonight. I’m planning to go furniture shopping, but I just don’t have anything right now. And anyway, I need to get a job before I run through all my money buying housewares and stuff.”
He only blinked at her.
Sloan stood, heat prickling her neck. “Can I get you anything? I have . . . water.”
He laughed, despite her seriousness. “Of course you do. Or at least, let’s hope so.”
“Stop making fun of me. I’m serious.” She came closer, then sat again, petting Sadie because it gave her something to do. “I don’t own anything. I gave it all up when I sold my portion of the house in Bozeman to Evan. I’m using the money from that for this house.”
She avoided his gaze and went on, “Yes, my dad would probably give me money for furniture if I asked for it, but I don’t want to ask for it. He already thinks I’m nuts for moving back here, and the minute I open my life to his money, it also means opening my life to his opinion.”
Kyle’s hand stilled as he stared at her. “So . . . you moved back to Nashville with a few boxes of clothes, two dogs, no job, and no . . . plan?”
Her chin lifted sharply. “Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“Aren’t plans frail things set up by people without an imagination?” she shot back.
His lips twitched slightly. “Yes.” He paused. “But, you know, things like a bed and chairs aren’t exactly plans. ”
Sloan sat there for a moment, fully aware of the fact that his words were making her heart race . . . and not in a good way.
Oh no. He’s right. What did I just get myself into?
“Is the urn in one of the boxes?” Kyle asked, his gaze settling over on the pile by the door.
“Oh yeah, I can get it. I’m sorry.”
“No rush. I’m not going to make you unpack everything right this second for it.” Kyle stood, then dusted himself off. He held out his hands and helped her stand. “Why don’t you give me the grand tour? We can talk while we walk.”
“It’s split level,” she said, gesturing toward the staircase they’d walked up to get to the main floor.
The foyer was smack dab in the middle of the house layout.
“Bedrooms are to the left, straight down that hallway, kitchen right behind that wall.” She led him through the living room to the dining room, then opened the sliding glass door. “Deck.”
Kyle inspected it with an approving nod. “Nice.”
She clasped her hands in front of her. “I just wanted something like what my parents had.”
That earned his gaze, the corners of his lips pressing tighter.
He didn’t have to ask. He knew.
“You know,” he said, poking his head out the door and inspecting the frame, “there’s a Walmart about five or so minutes from here. I’ll bet we can grab you a bed-in-a-box there at least, if not something sturdier. Maybe even some sheets and pillows. And lucky for you, I know a guy with a truck.”
God.
Why did he have to be so damned likable?
“No, no,” Sloan said, putting her hands up. “I didn’t track you down to get you to rescue me again.”
“I’m offering.”
“Don’t you have any plans for the afternoon?”
He checked his watch. “Well, I do have a date at six, but I’m free until then.”
A date? Her heart fell before she could stop it.
Please don’t let him read my face.
“Oh yeah?” Sloan managed.
“Yeah. I’ve been seeing this girl about once a week. We reconnected after my accident, and she spent a lot of time taking care of me.”
Was it possible for him to see her pounding heartbeat?
Still. You didn’t move back here for Kyle.
But if that was entirely true, if somewhere in that deep place inside her she refused anyone admission—including herself—why was she feeling suddenly unwell?
They were friends, nothing more. He deserved a nice woman in his life—someone who had been there for him . . . especially when he’d needed someone.
“That’s really great, Kyle,” she said. God. Tears. Yup, those were tears burning her eyes. “What’s her name?”
“Tara.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “She’s about three foot six.”
What? She stared at him in confusion.
“Really likes McDonald’s Happy Meals,” he went on. “Sometimes, if I’m feeling ambitious, I bring her sister on our dates. She’s kind of a pain, though. Likes to throw food.”
A bubble of repressed emotion came out in a noise that sounded half laugh, half gasp. “Your niece?”
He smiled slyly, then closed the slider and headed back toward the living room.
Sloan remained in place, hand settling over her heart while she blinked the tears away.
That jackass.
He knew he’d gotten to her, too.
But she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
She turned and followed him through the house. He’d wandered down the hall and was in the process of opening up the linen closet. “Aren’t you injured? You can’t be moving and lifting heavy things.”
“Yeah, but one of me—injured—is still a hell of a lot stronger than one of you. With you helping, it’ll make up for that twenty percent strength I’m missing on my left arm.”
She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, watching him. “Oh, thanks a lot.”
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” He closed the closet door and looked back at her.
“All right, you win. I accept your offer of help.” Mostly because she really hadn’t planned further than getting to Nashville today.
In fact, it wasn’t really about getting to Nashville in the end.
Once she’d found out that Kyle had been injured, it had been her driving force to get to him.
Even if he hated her and even if she still harbored anger toward him, Sloan had felt agonized for what he must have gone through.
She had just been desperate to see if he was okay.
Now that she was here, the reality of not having an actual place to sleep tonight was sinking in. And because she needed some groceries and basics anyway. “Just gonna let the dogs out real quick.”
“Well, look at that. One hour back in the South and you’re remembering how we speak again.” He stalked past her again, toward the living room, and she took a moment to admire his receding figure.
Maybe she hadn’t realized it ten years ago, but Kyle Winnick had a nice ass. Even in athletic pants. And his injury had probably slowed him down, but the way his T-shirt clung to his skin, tightly cuffing his biceps, was practically a thirst tra—
“So how did you find me at the PT?” he asked suddenly, swinging back around to glance her way.
“Um . . . Cheyenne’s parents hired a private investigator to help me find you.”
His face clouded immediately, and she stepped closer. “They’re really sorry about what happened that night we went to Jackson. Truly. They’ve probably apologized a hundred times between the three of them.”
Kyle shifted his weight. “What did happen that night in Jackson, Sloan? We were traveling together, almost a team, when we found the dog. Then I was arrested. And you . . .?”
Almost as though Charlie knew this had something to do with her, she whined suddenly and came up beside Sloan, tail wagging.
Sloan reached for the top of Charlie’s head automatically, scratching between her ears.
“First, the police interviewed me for several hours. They were under the impression that I was protecting you because I was afraid, I think. Evan told them that he believed you were blackmailing me into traveling with you. It took a long time for them to sort it all out and believe me.”
She drew a slow breath, the memory of that awful night something that she’d pushed to that place in her mind where she stored things she didn’t want to think about.
She could picture it all so clearly—Kyle’s single shout of her name, the wail of police sirens, her tears as Tallulah held her back, shielding her—she’d thought—from the man who’d manipulated and hurt her.
Sloan had tried to explain everything right away, but amid the blur of police and the chaos, the whole situation had unraveled so quickly.
“By the time the police left the Murdock ranch, it was so late, and the snow was terrible. I’d tried to get them to drive me to the station to see you, but they wanted me to stay at the ranch while they straightened the situation out.
Tallulah promised to take me to the station in the morning, and she did, but you were gone.
And then by the time I got back to the ranch, my father, Penny, and Evan had arrived, lawyers were on the way, and it was another whole mess to deal with. ”
“How’d they get there so fast?”
“Private aircraft into Jackson Hole Airport.”
He nodded slowly, then said, unironically, “My brother-in-law flew to Idaho Falls, then took me up to Bozeman so I could catch my flight for Cabo.”
“Why didn’t you come see me?” she asked softly.
Kyle’s face was more guarded now. “You know. Lawyers. Warnings about what might be used against you. Legal uncertainties. Family pleading with me not to be stupid. The usual.”
Talking about this felt like ripping off a Band-Aid from a wound that had just started to heal. “So, you went to Cabo.”
“And then, because of the arrest and how the media portrayed me, I got fired. Production shut down. Then, then . . . the accident.” He grimaced. “It wasn’t exactly the high point of my life.”
No words could really make up for what had happened to him. And there wouldn’t be getting around the fact that it was entirely her fault for dragging him into it.
“I’m so sorry, Kyle.”
His eyes flickered, then the mask fully descended over his features, and he smiled grimly.
“It’s life, right? No harm, no foul. But we should get moving if we’re going to get you a bed before I have to pick up Tara.
She expects complete punctuality from me, and I’m forced to shell out more toys every time I disappoint her. Not easy on the budget.”
So much remained unsaid. So much she wanted to tell him.
How much he’d changed her life with his selflessness.
And, again, how truly sorry she was.
How she would make it up to him in whatever way it took.
But the unflappable exterior, the humor-as-avoidance attitude, told her he wasn’t there yet.
Which, to be fair, she needed to respect.
He’d offered her an olive branch, though. For now, that would have to be enough.