CHAPTER NINE
WYATT
While massaging Kennedy’s back isn’t how I imagined my first time touching her, it doesn’t detract from the pleasure I feel by making her feel better. I just wish she'd felt comfortable enough to share about her health issues before today.
Finding Kennedy braced by that tree in the woods—her body tense and pale despite the chill in the air—had kicked my protective instincts into overdrive. What was wrong? How could I help? Every inch of me vibrated with the need to relieve her pain.
A soft hiss pierces the quiet, and immediately, I pause my ministrations. “Is this helping at all?”
We decided that it might be better if she sat backward in a dining chair, so she could rest her arms on the headrest while I massaged her tense muscles. That way she wasn't alone in her bedroom with essentially a stranger.
I'd like to get there eventually, but this makes more sense when we only met a few hours ago.
“I think so,” she says sleepily. Her head lays cradled between her folded arms, her dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks.
“Good.” I’ve never given a woman a massage before, so it’s a relief to learn I’m not total shit at it. I want to take away Kennedy’s pain as much as possible.
“So… Did you come home with Chris? Someone mentioned that he’s back for the holidays.”
Her simple question holds a ton of weight; the implications clear. Is this a brief interlude before I return to hang out with my army buddy? Does Chris know about our friendship?
“No, we traveled separately,” I say. Kennedy inhales a sharp breath as my fingers hit a tight knot, and I gentle my touch, wordlessly apologizing for the spasm of pain. “The truth is I came to Suitor’s Crossing for you. Chris didn’t factor into the decision.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
Is that concern I’m some sort of stalker? Or is she pleased by the admission?
Fuck trying to figure it out myself.
“Is that a good or bad oh ?”
“Good.” Kennedy stretches her arms overhead then cautiously rises from the chair as I step back to give her room. She carefully palpates her lower back before twisting to the side and flashing a shy smile. “I’m glad you’re here, and I’m extra happy that we don’t have to work around Chris or his family’s schedule to spend time together. Don’t get me wrong, his mom Sheree is nice, but it’s going to be awkward when she finds out her machinations failed because we connected instead.”
“I never would have had a chance if Chris took the time to write back to you,” I point out, still pissed on Kennedy’s behalf. She didn’t deserve the way he treated her.
“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter—” Firm pounding on the front door interrupts us, and Kennedy frowns at the sudden intrusion. “Who…?”
“Kennedy Elaine! Open the damn door!” An annoyed male voice booms through the hardwood, and instantly, I’m in defense mode, pushing past Kennedy to answer the demanding summons first.
Two men stand tall and bristling with anger on her doorstep. One is a firefighter based on the logo on his tee and the heavy turnout pants held up by navy suspenders. The other is harder to categorize in his tailored suit, though it’s obvious the men are related—twins with their matching steel grey eyes and black hair, despite the firefighter’s shaggier appearance.
“Who the hell are you?” the firefighter asks, his gaze bouncing between me and Kennedy, whose warm presence heats my back.
Placing a hand on the doorframe to block her from edging forward, I level a challenging glare his way. I don’t know who these guys are, but no one gets away with banging down my girl’s door and acting like a couple of overbearing dicks.
“Major Wyatt Lincoln, and you are?”
“Kennedy’s brothers, Beckett and Ezra Caldwell.” The suited man gestures to the firefighter then to himself. “We heard a stranger randomly showed up at Holiday Lane then drove our vulnerable sister home, despite a swath of friends present to take care of her. So, why don’t you explain what the fuck you want with Kennedy?”
“Oh my god.” Kennedy groans behind me. “Ezra, Beckett, calm down. Wyatt is a friend, not a stranger. Come inside before the neighbors start filming the show you two dummies are putting on. Who even called you guys?”
She tugs on the back of my shirt, and reluctantly, I lower my arm to let the men pass the threshold. One of Kennedy’s letters mentioned that she has four older brothers. The reality of what that means is becoming clear—four overprotective men intent on forming a solid barrier between Kennedy and any man who dares to be near her.
As someone who views Kennedy as a precious treasure, I appreciate the sentiment, but their bullying won’t work on me. They’re not going to intimidate me into leaving my girl. No fucking way.
“King Bishop, and it’s a good thing he did,” Beckett says. “It’s not smart to be alone in your home with a stranger, Ken. Anything could happen.”
“I told you. Wyatt isn’t a stranger. We’ve been writing letters to each other for months.”
“Letters? Like the ones you’re supposed to be writing to Chris Dugan?” Ezra sighs and runs a hand through his short hair. The disheveled look elevates the resemblance to his twin. “Fuck. How many men are you talking to?”
“Watch it,” I growl, disliking the insinuation in his voice.
“One. Chris never responded to my letters after the first.”
“So Major Lincoln decided to step into his place,” Beckett scoffs.
“It's none of your business how we met. All you need to know is that Wyatt is here and he doesn't deserve to be treated like a criminal. King shouldn't have gotten involved. It wasn't his place.”
“He's our friend and he knows to look out for you.”
“I can look out for myself.” Kennedy glances out her kitchen window and nods toward the red fire truck parked on the street. “If that's all, you should probably get going. Fires aren't going to put themselves out, Beckett. And the lodge can't last long without you, isn't that right, Ezra?”
Right on cue, a loud honk blares from the fire engine as a walkie-talkie crackles to life. Beckett turns down the volume before pinning both of us with a harsh glare. “This conversation isn't over. We'll have dinner tonight as a family to discuss things.”
Kennedy rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Text me the time and place. Not Grandpa's. He doesn't need to be part of this.”
“Agreed.” Ezra nods. The brothers finally head toward the front door, but he pauses to glower back at me. “You fuck with our sister, you fuck with us. So be careful, Major Lincoln.”
“Understood.”
They leave with the soft snick of the door closing, and Kennedy gingerly sits on her couch with a groan. “I'm sorry about them. They take their brotherly roles way too seriously.”
“That's a good thing. It means they care, and I can respect that. I'll just have to earn their trust like I have to earn yours.” I sit next to her on the beige cushion, thankful when she doesn’t scoot further away.
“You have mine.”
“Do I?”
“Of course.” A shy smile tugs on her plump lips, tempting me to taste their blush-pink sweetness. Only years of learned restraint stop me from acting on the urge.
Clearing my throat, I force myself to look away from her pretty mouth and mumble a garbled, “Good,” before snagging the remote beside my arm and flipping on the television for a distraction.
“Want to watch one of your holiday movies before tonight’s dinner? It might make you feel better considering how stressful today’s already been.” And maybe it will help cool the desire hardening my cock. Kennedy’s not ready for that, so the damn thing needs to stop trying to punch a hole through my jeans before she notices it.
She watches the couple currently on the screen and silently asks for the remote with her outstretched hand. “This is a good one to let run in the background. You traveled all this way. I’d rather catch up.”
So that’s how we spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing on her couch. It’s cozy and downright domestic and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
There’s something warm and comfortable about chatting in front of the TV like this is a routine occurrence—exchanging mundane details about our days while unwinding at home.
“You're done?” Kennedy asks in disbelief.
“Yep, I'm officially retired at thirty-eight.”
“But what's next?”
I shrug. “I don't know yet. There’s a nest egg I've been saving for years, so I have time to figure it out.”
She hums in her throat, understanding softening her blue eyes.
“Ready to tell me more about your brothers?” Changing the subject seems like the smart thing to do since I don’t want her to dwell on the fact that I’m currently unemployed. She doesn’t need to worry about my future because I’ll always make sure I’m able to take care of her. “Does Ezra work at the lodge, too? You said something about him needing to be there?”
A pink flush rises on her cheeks, and she swipes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Uh, yeah, about that… My family actually owns the lodge.” My eyes widen at the admission. “We’re the third generation to run it. Ezra handles the day-to-day management, while I work on the event coordinating, and Soren, our eldest brother, is kind of the jack-of-all-trades, handyman-slash-groundskeeper along with Griffen.”
“Wow…”
“I'm sorry I didn't share before.”
“No, it's okay. I'm guessing that makes your family pretty important to Suitor’s Crossing,” I venture, brows lifting in question.
“Yeah, we're one of the founding families.” She bites her lip and peers up through thick lashes.
“Really? Small-town royalty, huh, princess?” I tease, though a part of me balks at the knowledge. Why the fuck would a girl like her—a woman rooted in this town for generations, who is probably beloved by everyone—want to tie herself to me? A floundering loner with connections to no place and no one?
“My brothers maybe, but…” Kennedy hesitates. “The perks of being part of a founding family never really affected me.”
“Why not?”
“Well, you saw Beckett and Ezra. They were one of two sets of twins at school and football stars. They were regularly voted homecoming king. Prom king. There was always a contest between the two of them. Soren was more introverted, but he led our debate team to three championships, which should sound nerdy but was actually amazing. Griffin is like me. More reserved, and not part of the popular crowd like our siblings. But he's a whiz at tech. Everyone goes to him for their random questions.”
“And you were left unnoticed? What a shame. They missed out on an amazing woman,” I murmur, shuffling closer.
I don’t like the resigned shadow on Kennedy’s face. Like she somehow failed to measure up to everyone’s standards.
Because that’s a bunch of bullshit.
Our faces near each other—a chance to steal the kiss I’ve been craving, an opportunity to erase that disheartened expression from her beautiful face.
Slowly, my lips press softly to hers then retreat. “Is this okay?” I ask, caressing her bottom lip with my thumb.
“Yes…” Her fingers sink into my shirt as she sighs into my mouth, giving me access to the sweetness within. The coy strokes of her tongue against mine tease and entice, and I groan with each tentative exploration.
I squeeze her lush thigh and hike her leg over my lap, so she’s half-straddling me, and use my other hand to angle her head for deeper penetration. This woman is mine. All of her soft curves, and unique quirks—they belong to me.
For as long as she'll have me.