Chapter 29
29
Sybil
“My hero,” I said once we climbed into his truck. “You saved me from a lecture about proper car maintenance. I kind of let mine run low on gas.” It had sputtered into the driveway on my way over, and I figured I could fill it from a gas canister once no one was home. I ran my finger along the dashboard of Kieran’s truck—it was spotless, not even a speck of dust. “So thank you for rescuing me.”
“Part of the job, right? Fake boyfriend and all.” He did that thing that was so inexplicably sexy as he backed out of the driveway, putting his hand on my headrest and looking over his shoulder, his body precious inches closer to mine.
“No.” I dragged my finger down the pattern on his shirt while I had the chance, and it drew his eyes to me. “That would mean you were pretending to save me. You actually do it.”
“I guess I’m a sucker for a smile.” His gaze flicked to my lips, just for a moment, and my face heated before he finished backing out and put the car in gear. Heat rose in my body at the attention. And I smiled. Could anyone hear a compliment about their smile and not immediately grin? I couldn’t.
“So, I could get you to do just about anything, huh?”
He chuckled, the sound low in his throat. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well,” I said, looking around. “Do you have to get back to the shop?”
“No.” He slowed as we neared a stop sign on the corner, easing the car to a careful and full stop. “Chad is closing.”
I chuckled. “Are you expecting to walk into chaos tomorrow?”
Kieran’s laugh was easy and filled the car. “Probably, but I didn’t want to have to abandon you if things with your family went long.”
“See,” I said, settling back in my seat. “My hero.” We pulled to a red light, and I noticed the way Kieran tapped his fingers on the gearshift. There was a pattern where he tapped each finger in order and then just the middle three. He had long fingers and neat nails, and I had a flash of how he’d stroked the back of my neck during dinner, giving encouragement, and how they’d felt sliding into me in the cramped back office of the donut shop. The latter had me squirming in my seat and reminding myself he’d been acting at dinner, and the first night had been something different. Still, I settled my fingers over the top of his. “Nervous habit?”
He looked at my fingers on his, confusion coloring his face. “I’m not nervous,” he said, but he tensed when I slid my fingertips along his. “Should I be nervous? Did you have something in mind you wanted to do?”
“I have one thing we could do,” I said, fiddling with my necklace and sliding the pendant back and forth on the chain.
He nodded and scanned the road before dragging his gaze to mine. “Sure.” The single word hit me like a full monologue, and I bounced in my seat with surprise. “I’m not ready to go home yet.” His watch caught the light of the streetlamp when he rested his forearm on the steering wheel at the intersection.
“Yay!” I clapped and earned a laugh from him. “I have this silly tradition. My dad and I used to throw a coin in the river from the bridge by the amphitheater when things went well, kind of like a reward for having such good luck, and today was such a good day.” I nibbled my lower lip, thinking about those trips with my dad when he was still around. He’d lift me up so I could rest my elbows on the concrete ledge overlooking the water and the city lights beyond. He’d whisper in my ear, “Make a wish for one more good thing,” and I’d squeeze my eyes shut to think of what I wanted most.
“You want me to take you?” His gaze moved from my fingers to my face and paused, his dark eyes on mine.
“Well, yeah. The good day was because of you. We both deserve rewards.” I dragged my index finger along his pinky, and he curled it against mine. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course,” he said. Kieran’s expression softened sometimes when he put all his attention on me—the full weight of his focus always seemed soothing, like I was in a warm bath. I had that feeling now, until a long honk from the car behind us broke the spell and Kieran’s gaze whipped to the road and the green light in front of us. He hit the gas, flustered and raising a hand of apology to the person behind us.
“How can I make fun of your overly careful driving if you’re getting honked at?” I teased my fingers over his knee. “What happened to our deal?”
“You’re rubbing off on me.”
I opened my mouth, but his laugh stopped me from jumping in with the joke. He was still chuckling when he said, “There should be some coins in the center console for meters.” His attention was back on the road as we merged onto the interstate toward downtown. I looked out the window and toyed with my own fingers until he spoke. “Were you happy with how things went with your family?”
“They really liked you,” I said. My mom had pulled me aside to tell me she thought he was a good influence. “And thanks for saying what you did.”
“It’s true,” he said, catching my eye for a moment when he looked around me to merge into the other lane. “Can I ask, have you ever told them it bothers you when they tell those stories of you messing something up?”
“How did you know?” I looked out the window at a passing semi. “It’s just how they are. I try not to let it bother me.”
He gave a “hm” and flipped his blinker for the exit. “It seemed like it made you sad. Your expression dimmed each time it happened.”
I thought about it, the stories they loved to tell. They were usually funny, and I’d laugh with everyone else, but I’d struggled to find the humor in Paul’s story about meeting my mom while searching for me at the state fair, or any of the others. “I don’t usually mind, but yeah, the best stories in the family are about me fucking something up.” I hadn’t been sad, though; I’d been embarrassed hearing story after story. I thought having him next to me might inspire them to tell different stories, but once they started, I’d kept stealing glances at Kieran to see if he was laughing, too. And he never was.
“The stories weren’t that good,” he said dismissively as we cruised toward the river. Traffic was still light, and he passed people on their way to restaurants or clubs. “I’d share different stories.” He paused to wait for a car to pull out. The tick-tick-tick of his blinker filled the silence.
“What stories would you share?” I crossed my arms over my chest, angling my body in the car toward him as we waited for the spot to open. “How I sort of robbed you the day we met? How I spilled pink icing all over your kitchen? It looked like a Tarantino film took place in the Barbie Dreamhouse. Which, okay, is kind of funny.”
He huffed, and I braced for him to agree. “That teenager who sits out on the corner every weekend because they don’t want to go home to their transphobic family. You’ve taken them donuts and slipped them cash when you’ve visited with them the last few weeks. They came in the other day looking for you to tell you they got into college and to thank you for encouraging them.” He wasn’t looking at me; his focus was on parallel parking, angling his body to check the mirrors and cranking the steering wheel at the right moment. “I’d tell that story.”
“Alex,” I said. “Their name is Alex.”
Kieran nodded. “Or how you ask Tom about his grandkids, and he lights up because you listen and ask questions and want to see photos when he’s done.” Kieran put the car in park and cut the engine. The car dinged when he opened his door, and the interior light flicked on. “And I might tell the pink frosting story, but only because it starts with you helping out my family’s business, and I like remembering your face sprinkled with pink frosting. You looked surprised and kind of…adorable.”
“I didn’t know you were paying attention when I did those things,” I said.
“I was.” He darted his eyes to me, lingering on my face for a moment before looking away. “I always pay attention to you.”
I waited for him to say more, but he pressed his lips together, the next sentence contained before he stepped into the street. Kieran’s door closed behind him, and he left me in the car, dumbfounded and watching him walk around to my side as if he hadn’t just bowled me over with his observations. I hadn’t even undone my seat belt yet, and the night sky reflected off the water beyond the edge of the bridge. I had no idea Kieran had been paying attention when I’d done those things, the frosting excluded, and knowing he had should have been creepy, but instead I felt noticed. I felt seen.
He knocked on the window, and I jerked my head to the side to take in his face. “Are you going to make your wish from in the car?”
The night air was cooler than I expected, since this March had been on the warm side, and I leaned against the concrete railing after he pulled me from my dazed state. The sound of cars moving through downtown and the hum of voices filled the space around us, and I looked at the water.
“What’s your wish?” He stood next to me, hands in his pockets. “Or is this a don’t-tell-or-it-won’t-come-true situation?”
I grinned and toyed with the coin in my hand. “Every wish is a don’t-tell-or-it-won’t-come-true situation. Are you new?”
Kieran chuckled and joined me in leaning on the ledge, his forearms making a V and his hands clasped. “That’s a universal rule?”
“Absolutely,” I said, clutching the coin. Kieran smelled like sandalwood, and I wondered if I had any more luck in my future or if I’d used it up with one big lottery win. Him charming the pants off my family, more than I could have hoped for, was certainly a bonus, and it was greedy to want more, but I did. I looked over my shoulder. “So don’t ask me what I’m hoping will come true.”
I examined the coin—a nickel I’d taken from Kieran’s car console—and raised my arm to throw it into the river, but before I could launch it, a gust of wind kicked up, and I shivered. The thin material of my dress was a poor choice for early spring, and the bottom began to lift up. I dropped my hand to keep my skirt down, but Kieran was already there, his body pressed behind mine and his palms moving up and down my bare biceps. He wasn’t grinding against me, but the wall of him behind me felt like being caged in the best possible way. “There goes that rescuing behavior again.”
“You were about to flash Locust Street.” He let a hand fall down the side of my skirt, the warmth of his skin coming through the fabric as he settled it back to his hip.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” I leaned back, wanting him closer behind me, and pictured him rolling his eyes in the way he did when he wanted me to think he was annoyed, but the corner of his mouth would twitch and give the hint of a smile. “Or even the third time, really.”
“You looked cold,” he said, continuing his movements up and down my arm even though the wind had died down. I was the opposite of cold with his body pressed to mine. I felt like a match was struck deep in me and the warmth was working its way toward my skin. “It’s supposed to rain tonight,” he added. “Figure out your wish yet?”
“You want me to hurry up so we can go?”
“No.” Kieran’s hands still slid up and down my arm. “I don’t need to be anywhere else.”
The only way Kieran and I would work for real was divine intervention. We were too different. I was too chaotic and he too ordered; I had nowhere to be, and he had plans to get back to medical school, and without $300,000 on the line, none of this would be happening anyway. I flicked the coin into the river below because sometimes magic happened. It wouldn’t hurt to wish.
“Are you going to make one?” I pulled the second coin from my pocket and held it, palm out, for him to grab.
“I don’t make wishes.” He wrapped his fingers around mine and closed them around the coin. “I stopped doing that a long time ago.”
“That’s sad.” I opened my palm again. “Why did you stop?”
I figured he’d back away—it was what usually happened when I pushed—but he seemed to shift closer, and while one hand dropped to flatten my skirt against the wind again, his other slid to the ledge next to mine. “I learned young that good things don’t just happen to me, and when they do, they don’t last. Better not to hope.” His voice wrapped around me the way his arms felt, steady. “For me,” he added. “But I like that you make wishes and believe in lucky pennies.”
I turned to face him, my back grazing the ledge and our bodies a few breaths apart. “I think something good is going to last for you soon.” I reached for his jeans pocket and slid my fingertips inside to let the coin fall in. “I really do.” I kept my hand at his waist as another gust of cold wind cut through the air. “When you get back to medical school, good things will start happening.”
He sucked in a ragged breath at my mention of medical school, and his hand moved up my arm, over my shoulder, and then cupped the back of my head. Kieran’s gaze was intense, and I could tell he wanted to say something, needed to say something. It could have been to tell me I was wrong or to share something about his hopes and dreams, but the heat behind his piercing gaze looked like something else. It looked like gusto and fervor and kisses under the night sky that went on forever, and I couldn’t take the anticipation.
“Are you going to kiss me?”
His fingers shifted against my hair. “No one is watching.”
“Someone might be,” I said, tipping my chin up. “There are all kinds of voyeuristic people out this time of night.”
He chuckled, but I noticed how his gaze fell to my mouth. “You should wish for fewer voyeurs, then.” Kieran’s fingers stroked along the nape of my neck.
“Good idea, but I already made my wish.”
“Then you’re right.” His thumb slid along the shell of my ear. “Maybe someone is watching.”
I swallowed, feeling my heartbeat throughout my body, the apex of my thighs pulsing. “Might be someone important. We should make it look good.” The ledge was firm against my back as I settled my hand at his side, guiding him toward me.
Kieran’s face lowered, and I let my eyes drift closed, but he didn’t make contact with my lips. Instead, his kiss grazed my jaw, lips working over the sensitive skin where my neck and jaw met. Tingles radiated from the spot he’d kissed, and I let out a moan that was lost in the gust of wind. He’d heard it, though, and stepped closer, his thigh nestled between my legs, and he surrounded me on all sides. “Is this convincing them?”
I groaned as he kissed my neck, his hand still supporting my head, fingers tangled in my curls. It was impossible to feel his leg between mine and not shift against it. “Convincing who?”
He chuckled against my neck and pulled back to meet my gaze. “The strangers watching us.” Kieran’s gaze was heated, and he was hard against my stomach, which made my whole body hot despite the cold wind, but when he looked at me, it was almost playful. This was Kieran relaxed, and it looked so good on him. “The reason we’re so…intertwined.”
“I have a confession.” I took the opportunity to lean forward, kissing the base of his neck and sliding my hand up his chest, over his pecs, and down. “I don’t actually think anyone is watching.”
“Probably not.” He didn’t step away from me. “But I liked this story.”
“The story of us making out on the bridge?”
He dropped his lips to my neck again, finding the same spot that made my knees feel like jelly. “Is it making out if we haven’t kissed yet?”
“Easy way to fix that,” I murmured, tipping my head to the side to give him better access to my neck. I ran my fingers through his hair, savoring the softness of his strands. “Kiss me again,” I said. “Just because you want to. Just for tonight.”
He paused his movements, stilled completely for a minute, and I listened intently, trying to hear beyond my own beating heart to the sigh slowly escaping his lips.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” I added, grazing a finger along his hairline. I wasn’t sure I could kiss Kieran here and have it mean nothing, but I knew I could hold on to that and keep it to myself like a little secret. “We could scratch an itch and lose control, just a little.”
He dropped another peck on my jaw, but instead of moving to my lips, he stepped back, sliding his hand from my hair but still grazing two fingers along the hem of my skirt. “I really want to lose control with you, but I know too many good stories about you,” he said, taking another step back, the distance between us allowing the wind to cut through the gap. “I think it’s too late for meaningless and one night.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but my words were drowned out by a crack of thunder that shook the ground and a lightning strike near enough that it lit the sky. I screeched as the rain began all at once, the downpour soaking our clothes and drowning out the words hanging in the air. We scurried toward his truck to get out of the rain, and by the time we were inside, all the reasons I’d planned to tell him he was my wish felt less clear in my head. He was going back to school in another state, and I was paying him to help make me look responsible to my family. It was working. Kisses in the rain didn’t fit into that plan, no matter how hard I wished for them.
I looked out the window as he edged out of the tight parking spot. He was right—it was too late for meaningless. I didn’t need the next story in my family’s arsenal to be about how I fell for the guy I was paying to date me.