background when Kristine came in, so its cessation was noticeable.
Kristine narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What was that?”
Before John could answer, he heard Connor strumming the guitar. It didn’t sound so good. He winced as Kristine’s look turned to anger.
“Who the hell is upstairs?”
He heard Connor’s footsteps on the stairs. “Connor!” he called out, still watching Kristine. “We have a visitor.”
The footsteps stopped and then went back upstairs. John didn’t say anything, and Kristine just glared at him. A few moments later he heard Connor coming back down. Briefly he wondered what he’d had to go back upstairs for. More clothes?
Connor came into the kitchen smiling and then stopped abruptly at the sight of Kristine. He was wearing his old faded red T-shirt and his camo shorts. His hair was still wet from the shower, and John nearly groaned out loud when he saw a hickey peeking out above the crew neck of his shirt. He didn’t wait for Connor to ask. He figured he’d get the introductions out of the way.
“Kristine Hamilton, Connor Meecham. Connor, this is Steve’s sister, Kristine.”
“How do you do,” Connor replied politely with a nod at Kristine. John almost smiled at his formality. He sounded and looked so Southern right then. It was a huge turn-on. And wow, what an inappropriate time to get a hard-on.
Kristine didn’t respond to Connor. Instead she turned to John. “Can we talk? Somewhere private?” She stressed the last word, as if Connor had invaded their privacy and not the other way around.
John nodded. “Of course.” He started to lead her out to the living room, but Connor stopped him.
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got to run over to the store and get a few things.” He nodded at Kristine. “Pleased to meet you.” He walked over to the wall peg by the door and snagged the keys to the old truck John had bought to haul all the construction stuff. He turned at the door and held them up. “Okay?” It was clear he was asking to use the truck.
“I’ve told you that you don’t have to ask, Connor,” John said impatiently. “Take the car instead, with my blessing. And pick up some coffee creamer. I’m almost out.”
“I’m all right with the truck.” Connor looked at Kristine. “I’ll pick up something for dinner too. For three?”
John looked at Kristine, and she nodded stiffly.
“Fish okay? Or some steak?” Connor asked.
John could see Kristine’s cheeks flush with anger at Connor’s questions. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. It was that damn domesticity again.
“Fish is good. Thanks, Connor.” John watched him as he waved and walked out the back door. Part of him wanted to call Connor back for a kiss, but he ruthlessly stifled the urge. Not just because Kristine was there, but because that wasn’t what this relationship was about. It wasn’t kisses good-bye—or hello for that matter. And John needed to remember that.
“Were you trying to get him to take Steve’s car?” Kristine asked in a harsh voice.
With a deep breath John turned to her. He indicated a chair at the table and went to sit down. “Yes.”
“Was that Steve’s guitar he was playing?” She marched over and sat facing him across the table.
“Yes.”
“What are you doing?” Kristine demanded. “He’s only been gone a year! And you’re fucking some boy toy and letting him use Steve’s things.” She shook her head and leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms. “I don’t care who you fuck. But don’t give Steve’s stuff away.”
“It’s not Steve’s stuff anymore,” John answered patiently. “It’s mine.” At his words his heart slammed in his chest. It was the first time he’d admitted that. The first time he’d been able to.
“And they don’t mean anything to you? Is that what you’re saying? You can give them to some grifter with no problem?”
John gritted his back teeth. “What makes you think Connor is a grifter?”
“I
Kristine narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What was that?”
Before John could answer, he heard Connor strumming the guitar. It didn’t sound so good. He winced as Kristine’s look turned to anger.
“Who the hell is upstairs?”
He heard Connor’s footsteps on the stairs. “Connor!” he called out, still watching Kristine. “We have a visitor.”
The footsteps stopped and then went back upstairs. John didn’t say anything, and Kristine just glared at him. A few moments later he heard Connor coming back down. Briefly he wondered what he’d had to go back upstairs for. More clothes?
Connor came into the kitchen smiling and then stopped abruptly at the sight of Kristine. He was wearing his old faded red T-shirt and his camo shorts. His hair was still wet from the shower, and John nearly groaned out loud when he saw a hickey peeking out above the crew neck of his shirt. He didn’t wait for Connor to ask. He figured he’d get the introductions out of the way.
“Kristine Hamilton, Connor Meecham. Connor, this is Steve’s sister, Kristine.”
“How do you do,” Connor replied politely with a nod at Kristine. John almost smiled at his formality. He sounded and looked so Southern right then. It was a huge turn-on. And wow, what an inappropriate time to get a hard-on.
Kristine didn’t respond to Connor. Instead she turned to John. “Can we talk? Somewhere private?” She stressed the last word, as if Connor had invaded their privacy and not the other way around.
John nodded. “Of course.” He started to lead her out to the living room, but Connor stopped him.
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got to run over to the store and get a few things.” He nodded at Kristine. “Pleased to meet you.” He walked over to the wall peg by the door and snagged the keys to the old truck John had bought to haul all the construction stuff. He turned at the door and held them up. “Okay?” It was clear he was asking to use the truck.
“I’ve told you that you don’t have to ask, Connor,” John said impatiently. “Take the car instead, with my blessing. And pick up some coffee creamer. I’m almost out.”
“I’m all right with the truck.” Connor looked at Kristine. “I’ll pick up something for dinner too. For three?”
John looked at Kristine, and she nodded stiffly.
“Fish okay? Or some steak?” Connor asked.
John could see Kristine’s cheeks flush with anger at Connor’s questions. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. It was that damn domesticity again.
“Fish is good. Thanks, Connor.” John watched him as he waved and walked out the back door. Part of him wanted to call Connor back for a kiss, but he ruthlessly stifled the urge. Not just because Kristine was there, but because that wasn’t what this relationship was about. It wasn’t kisses good-bye—or hello for that matter. And John needed to remember that.
“Were you trying to get him to take Steve’s car?” Kristine asked in a harsh voice.
With a deep breath John turned to her. He indicated a chair at the table and went to sit down. “Yes.”
“Was that Steve’s guitar he was playing?” She marched over and sat facing him across the table.
“Yes.”
“What are you doing?” Kristine demanded. “He’s only been gone a year! And you’re fucking some boy toy and letting him use Steve’s things.” She shook her head and leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms. “I don’t care who you fuck. But don’t give Steve’s stuff away.”
“It’s not Steve’s stuff anymore,” John answered patiently. “It’s mine.” At his words his heart slammed in his chest. It was the first time he’d admitted that. The first time he’d been able to.
“And they don’t mean anything to you? Is that what you’re saying? You can give them to some grifter with no problem?”
John gritted his back teeth. “What makes you think Connor is a grifter?”
“I
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