“I’m not even in private security anymore. I own a bar. But it’s not open yet.”
“What kind of bar is it?”
“A sports bar.”
“Of course it is.”
I finally looked up at her. The dying sun lit her from behind, giving her red hair a hazy golden halo. “What’s that mean?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged. “You just look like the sports bar type.”
“And what type is that?”
“Tall, muscular, varsity jacket in your closet. You know . . . sporty.” A smile played on her lips. “I bet you really like playing with your balls.”
I focused on my screen again.
She laughed, and it was a nice sound. Deeper and rustier than you’d expect from someone her size. “Oh, come on, I’m teasing. Are you hungry?” she asked.
“No,” I said, pride talking over my ravenous stomach. Right away, my stomach chose revenge by groaning very loudly.
“I think your belly disagrees.” She gestured toward the house. “Do you want to come in and eat with me?”
“And invade your vacation space? I wouldn’t dare.”
She held up her hands. “Let’s call a truce so you don’t waste away out here.”
“No, thanks.”
For a second, she seemed startled that I’d turned her down. Then she shrugged. “Okay. Suit yourself.”
An apology was on the tip of my tongue—why was I letting her get to me like this?—but she went back into the house without another word.
So it surprised me when, a few minutes later, she came out with a bowl heaped with pasta in red sauce, topped with Parmesan cheese and a sprig of basil. She set the bowl at my feet along with a napkin and fork. “Here.”
I glanced down at it. “Is that my doggie bowl?”
“You don’t want it?” She bent down and picked it up again.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want it.”
“So you do want it?”
“Yes.”
She tilted her head, like something had just occurred to her. “How bad?”
“What?”
“How bad do you want it?”
I swallowed hard. So bad. “I don’t know.”
“Does it look good to you?”
“Yes.”
“Does it smell good?” She sort of swung the bowl past my face, so the aroma of tomatoes and garlic and basil wafted toward me.
“Yes.”
“It tastes good too,” she said, almost flirtatiously. “I bet you haven’t eaten in a while.”
I was starting to sweat. Were we still talking about food? “What do you want me to say, Kelly? Please?”
“Hmm. Please is nice, but I was thinking maybe you could beg.”
“Beg? Like, on my knees?”
“Oh, good idea.” Smiling, she brandished the pasta again. “You want this, you get on your knees and beg.”
She had a huge grin on her face, and yet I couldn’t tell if she was joking. “I’m not getting on my knees for spaghetti, Kelly. Is this some kind of game?”
“What, you don’t like being told that you can’t have what you want unless you do it on someone else’s terms?” Her eyes pinned mine, driving home her point.
I opened my mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. Focused on my screen again. “Forget it. I’m not hungry.”
She stood there for another moment, saying nothing. Then she bent down, put the bowl at my feet again, and went into the house.
I thought about not eating it to make a point, but after precisely five seconds, I picked it up and scarfed down every single bite.
It was delicious.
I decided I would have begged.
FOUR
kelly
I couldn’t believe I’d said that.
Beg on his knees?
What was wrong with me?
I made a beeline for the kitchen counter and picked up my glass of wine. Took a huge gulp.
Within seconds, I heard his fork clanking on the bowl out on the porch. It made me smile. Guess he was hungry after all.
Why did men have to be so stubborn? Did he really prefer eating alone on the porch with his food on his lap to sitting in here at the counter with me? Or had he rejected my offer for spite?
It was only because he’d given me so much attitude that I’d snapped. I wasn’t even a temperamental person by nature. Passionate, sure. Feisty? Sometimes. Tenacious? Always. Despite the fact that I was scared to stand up to my label, I wouldn’t have gotten this far without some spunk. But when you had to keep saying yes when you wanted to say no, swallow your opinions, and hold back your real feelings much of the time, they got all bottled up. The pressure built.
Just now, it had exploded.
But darn it, Xander didn’t belong here! I’d wanted to be by myself. He’d let himself into my vacation home like he had the right. He’d announced he was staying like I had no choice in the matter.
He’d seen me naked.
I shivered on the stool, recalling the shock and humiliation of running into him in the living room wearing nothing but my birthday suit. I’d hightailed it back into the bathroom as fast as possible, but there was no doubt he’d gotten a good look.
I wonder how he’d react if I suggested he get naked and let me look at him just to even things out. Then I smiled, figuring he’d probably do it. I’d only known Xander Buckley for a couple hours, but something told me modesty was not his thing.
Still, as I finished my glass of wine, my conscience continued to nag me. I’d been rude, and that wasn’t my style. It wasn’t how Mama had raised me. You don’t need money to have class, she always said. (Although now that we had money, she admitted having both was more fun.)
I supposed she’d be glad to know the lummox was here. So would Kevin, Wags, Jess, Kayla, and the rest of my team. I finished my glass of wine, picked up my phone, and sent a note to my brother.
I know you won’t get this for a while, but your big beardy babysitter arrived and refuses to leave. Congratulations, you won this round.
I also sent texts to my mom, Jess, Kayla, and Wags, filling them in and letting them know that while I wasn’t too happy about it, the guy was staying.
While my phone was still in my hand, I got a call from my dad. I nearly rejected it, but then I felt guilty. Maybe taking his call would serve as penance for telling Xander to bark like a dog.
“Hello?”
“Hey there, Pixie girl.”
It took me a second. “Duke?”
“Surprise.”
“Why are you calling me from my dad’s phone?”
“We got together for a beer tonight for old times’ sake. He said you’re on vacation up north by yourself. We’re both worried about you. Everything okay?”
“You got together for a beer with my dad?” The back of my neck prickled. My father had always been dazzled by Duke’s fame and money and success, and therefore in favor of our relationship, but I’d had no idea they were drinking buddies.
“We’ve kept in touch,” Duke said casually. “He reached out, said he was back in town, and I invited him over. We’ve had a nice time catching up.”