“That's...horrible,” Kyle had said, holding back laughter.
“Yeah. Didn’t really see him much after that. I held out hope that it would get better with the next guy, but eh. Been to a few rodeos now and I still don’t quite understand all the rage.”
“Wait, are you really telling me you’ve never had an orgasm?” he spat out, all attempt at being a gentleman gone. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
‘No, I’ve
had one,” she’d said, muffled by the fact that she was looking at her lap, not meeting his curious gaze. “They’ve just all been of my own making.”
It had taken everything he’d had to not take her right there and rectify the situation. He couldn’t believe that no one had taken the time to treat her like the queen she was. He wanted to be the one to fix that, but he didn’t want to seem like he was only after one thing. Not to mention, staying employed was a priority and ravishing the bosses’ niece was not a good idea.
Suddenly they were at her front door and he was brought back to the present. He was still holding her hand, still not fully sure of where they stood and how to proceed. She turned so they were face to face, standing so close they were all but touching, looking at him through her eyelashes.
“Come in?” she whispered.
“Of course,” he whispered back.
She stood there for a moment, reminding herself to breathe. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. It was Kyle, her favorite person. He had his own keycode to her house, for crying out loud. Why had she invited him in? He likely would have just followed her in anyway. But she had wanted to make sure. She wanted to know that he was there with her and not running off to join Dalton at Paradise Point.
Kyle leaned over her and punched his code into the keypad and opened the door. Reluctantly turning around, she walked into her little cottage, throwing her phone on a side table that was only a few feet from the door. She felt so awkward in her own home, not sure if she should just sit or go change or what.
“You want another drink?” she asked, walking toward the little open kitchen adjacent to the living room. Her cottage wasn’t huge, just over nine hundred square feet all told, but it suited her perfectly. A bedroom big enough to fit a queen-size bed, with a step-in closet (calling it a walk-in would have been way too generous), an en suite bathroom that also opened to the kitchen, and an open concept great room that housed her little kitchen and living room. A set of French doors led to the back porch that looked out over Big House Beach.
“I don’t think I could drink another drop after all that wine. Your uncles were not holding back tonight.”
“It was a special night,” she said, shrugging.
“It was.”
“Well, we could sit—”
“Can I ask you something?” he cut her off.
“Anything. Always.”
“What’s going on with the Brig guy? Are you into him?”
“Brig? Oh hell, no,” she answered, half laughing. She moved around the couch and plopped down on it. She pulled her legs up underneath her and grabbed a pillow to hold in her lap. “He just kept appearing. And since he’s a guest I didn’t want to be rude. He just wasn’t picking up on any of the clues I was dropping, or at least that I thought I was dropping. This afternoon he asked if I wanted to have drinks with him and before I could let him down easy, Uncle Gray told him that if he retracted the question he wouldn’t be banned from the resort,” she giggled. “So, pretty sure he’ll go away now.”
Kyle felt relieved that the meathead had turned out to be harmless. Although that still didn’t answer why she had been so upset last night. He came and sat down on the couch, turning so he was facing her, his shoulder leaning against the back of the couch. “So, what about Dalton?”
“Dalton? What about him?”
“What did he do to upset you?”
“Why on earth would you think I was upset with Dalton?”
“I saw you last night…at the bonfire. You were crying, and Dalton was holding you. I thought...I thought he did something to upset you.”
“No, no, it wasn’t Dalton. He was just trying to help.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” She lowered her gaze to her fingers, which were picking at the seam on the pillow in her lap. “Can I ask you something?”
“Always. Anything. Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he answered, reaching out to still the hand picking at the seam.
“What’s the deal with Staci…‘with an i’?” she said, raising her voice mockingly on the ‘with an i’. “You, um, into her?”
