25. Sloan #2
Hesitantly, Sloan took the card. Maybe Delilah felt sorry for her. That had to be it. “Um . . . thanks.”
Delilah smiled. “Why don’t you come back Sunday around five? We close early that day, so we’ll have more time to talk.” She winked, then went into the shop.
Uncertain what to think about Delilah’s offer, Sloan hurried back to her car.
It took nearly the whole drive home for Sloan to catalog the interaction somewhere between “things to be excited about” and “too odd to be real.” But Kyle’s truck was in the driveway as she pulled up, and that tilted her emotions a little toward excitement.
Yanking off her uncomfortable heels, she hurried into the house. “Kyle?” Sadie and Charlie greeted her at the door with barks, tails wagging, and she took the steps two at a time, stopping short as she reached the living room.
A gray couch and loveseat were in the living room, along with a television.
“Oh, hey,” Kyle called, coming down the hallway.
She glanced at the furniture and then raised her brow.
He smiled. “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind. I saw them in my storage unit and figured I’d bring them over for now for some more comfortable seating than kitchen stools. If they’re in your way, I can always take them back.”
She rubbed the back of her neck, her skin prickling with strange warmth.
“I-I don’t mind, but . . . you didn’t move them yourself, did you?”
His mouth arched in amusement. “No, my dad and Liddy helped. Actually, it was Liddy who suggested we bring them. I think we shocked her with our spartan living arrangement.”
“That was nice of them.” She dropped her shoes by the banister and moved over toward the couch. “Can I sit?”
“No, they’re only for me. You have to stand in the corner.”
She held back a smile, dropping down on the couch. “So, not like this then?”
He stalked a little closer. “No, ma’am.”
“Uh-huh.” Locking eyes with him, she offered a daring look and then rested against the back.
“I’m warning you, Sloan.” He hovered over her, a scowl on his lips, but his blue eye amused.
“Or what?” She drew her feet onto the couch, then stretched them onto the armrest.
“Oh, you crossed the line now.” Kyle leaned over and scooped her up, throwing her over his right shoulder as she shrieked.
“Kyle!” She laughed, slapping his backside. “Put me down!”
“Oof—” he grunted slightly, then slid her back onto the couch, easing down beside her. His hand rubbed his injured shoulder. “You’re going to kill me, woman.”
She rolled toward him, her laughter fading away as she set her hand on his, alarm pulsing through her. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“It’s fine,” he said, but he didn’t pull his hand away.
Her fingers were still curled around his, warm and light, but there was nothing light about the way her pulse thudded against her ribs. She studied his face, the faint tension around his mouth, the way his jaw set like he was bracing for impact.
“Kyle,” she said, pointedly, frowning at him. “You’re still wincing.”
He exhaled through his nose, something between a laugh and a surrender. “I didn’t mean to wince.”
“Uh-huh. And I didn’t mean to nearly trip over my own feet walking down Main Street today.”
That coaxed a real smile out of him. “You did that?”
“Spectacularly. I was wearing a blister on my heel and not paying attention.” Her thumb brushed over the back of his hand without her quite meaning it to. She sensed him stiffen and withdrew it slightly. “So. Humor me. Where does it hurt?”
He hesitated, then shifted carefully. “Just . . . pulled something, I think. It’ll be fine. Range of motion is still only at like eighty percent. The doctor said I’m supposed to be smarter than my ego, but I’m still working on that part.”
“Clearly,” she said, but her voice softened on the word. She leaned closer, studying his shoulder like she could somehow see through skin and stubbornness. “You don’t have to play hero with me.”
His gaze lifted to hers, something unguarded flickering there. “I’m not.”
The air between them went quiet in that charged way that had nothing to do with the room and everything to do with the inches separating them.
She became acutely aware of the couch beneath her, of his thigh close to hers, of the way his hand was still trapped under hers like neither of them quite wanted to be the first to let go.
The house felt smaller somehow. Or maybe it was just the world narrowing down to blue eyes and a familiar, dangerous smile.
A smile she’d cried at the thought of losing when Cheyenne told her about the accident. When she’d driven across the country, still half filled with panic, each mile felt interminable.
“You scared me,” she admitted.
He tilted his head. “From tossing you over my shoulder?”
“From pretending you’re indestructible.”
His expression shifted at that—softened and warmed. “I take it we’re not talking about five seconds ago.”
She swallowed hard, shaking her head.
Kyle turned his hand under hers and clasped it, lowering both their hands to rest on his thigh. The touch made her pulse stutter, her breath shallow. “I’m not pretending,” he said teasingly.
Sloan scowled at him. “Kyle Winnick.”
“Sloan Carrington.”
“I’m serious, Kyle. If I know you at all—learned anything from watching you in Breckenridge—you probably wiped out on the jet ski doing something you shouldn’t have.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.
As it is, I feel horrible that I didn’t find out about it for months.
But imagine if I’d found out you’d been killed or something. ” Her voice shook. “I—”
I would have blamed myself.
Fallen apart.
She couldn’t find the words to finish, but tears pooled in her eyes.
“Hey,” Kyle said, shifting toward her. His hand left the safety of her own and cupped her face. “That didn’t happen, though. I’m fine, Sloan. I’m right here.”
His thumbs brushed her cheek, catching her tears before they could fall, and the gentleness of it nearly undid her.
Sloan’s breath hitched, her chest tight in a way that was no longer about her panic at the thought of losing him but instead about the fact that he was this close—too close—and looking at her like she was something breakable and something precious at the same time.
“I know,” she said, but her voice came out thin. “I just . . . don’t ever do that to me again.”
“Scare you?”
“Pretend you’re made of steel.” Her hands curled into the front of his shirt, more for balance than intention. Or maybe that was a lie she told herself because it felt safer. “You’re not.”
His mouth tipped into a small, crooked smile. “Neither are you.”
That did something to her. Something warm and entirely inconvenient as her body became more aware of the solid heat of him under her hands.
Of how easy it would be to lean in just an inch and find out if his mouth still felt the way she remembered—or maybe the way she’d been pretending she didn’t remember at all.
Her pulse was loud in her ears.
Kyle’s gaze dropped to her mouth.
Oh.
Don’t do it, Sloan. Don’t lean forward. Don’t make this roommate situation awkward the very first day.
“You don’t have to look at me like that,” she said, trying for light, missing by a mile.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re . . . thinking things.”
His brows lifted, the corners of his sensual mouth curving up in a way that wasn’t innocent at all. “I am thinking things.”
Her stomach flipped. “That’s not helping your case.”
He chuckled, but it was low and softer than his usual laugh, like he didn’t care about denying the energy humming between them. His hand slid from her cheek, but only to her jaw, his thumb resting there, like he’d forgotten how to let go.
“Sloan,” he said, and her name in his voice did unfair things to her spine, “I’m trying very hard to be good right now.”
That sent a spark straight through her.
“Good at what?” she asked, even though she had a very vivid, very traitorous guess based on very real memories that were currently fighting for airtime in her mind.
Nope. Don’t think about that.
“At not doing something stupid with my shoulder,” he said dryly. Then his eyes darkened a shade. The air between them felt charged, like a storm building just under the skin.
Her breath caught. “Well, good. It’s probably not worth it.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” He stared at her like he was weighing risk versus reward.
Her skin burned with heat.
This. Is. Torture.
She’d almost made up her mind to kiss him, just to break the current of sexual tension—or maybe to move it forward—when Charlie hopped up onto the couch, circling the cushion and dropping down beside them with a whine.
And that’ll do it.
Sloan pulled away from Kyle, her heart still racing, her skin still humming. “Charlie! Off! You can’t be on Kyle’s nice couch.”
She tugged Charlie’s collar, dragging her down. She needed to put some space between herself and Kyle before she did something stupid. Something that might ruin everything between them. “Oh, guess what? I got a lead on a possible job,” she said, way too brightly.
“Wow, already? That’s impressive.” His voice had already returned to casual, as though nothing at all had happened.
Space, Sloan. Less proximity.
“Yeah, I’m just going to change, and I’ll tell you all about it while I make something to eat.”
The couch creaked under her as she stood and flashed him a grin. But as she started back toward her room, she had the clear, very distracting thought that Liddy had been absolutely right.
Spartan living arrangements were wildly overrated.