traveled her features then dropped to where Kylie had clamped her hands on the chair’s back. “I think you need to sit back down and talk to your mother.”
Kylie stared down at her white-knuckled hands. Talk. Right. She’d rather run a marathon without training. Or try to teach a cranky four-year-old how to serve for twelve hours straight. Or play soccer with a thriving bee hive. Or stand without her knee brace in front of roving, curious eyes.
“Here.”
She glanced up, surprised to see Lara holding out a rocks glass that contained what looked like two shots of amber liquid. She hadn’t even heard her stepmother move. “I don’t—”
“It’s whiskey,” Lara interrupted. “Drink it.”
She accepted the glass with a soft laugh, glad it didn’t have ice cubes that could knock against each other and give away how shaky she really was.
Lara resumed her position on the sofa, legs crossed and hands clasped on her knees, and waited for Kylie to do as she was told.
“Cheers,” Kylie said, toasting her stepmother before swallowing the fiery liquid in one gulp. The burn on the way down into her empty stomach reminded her of Chase’s lips tracking the side of her neck to the top of her shoulder, the heat of his fingers on the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of her T-shirt. He knew how to touch, knew how to stroke, knew exactly how to make her want. Clearly, he knew too much.
Lara started to smile. “Well, I see some color in your cheeks, so Mr. Johnny Walker must be doing his job.”
Kylie squinted her watering eyes and nodded. Yep, it’s Johnny Walker all the way. “Thank you.”
Lara tilted her head to one side, but when Kylie said nothing more, she sat back. “Let me guess: You don’t want to talk about it. Not that I had to guess. Jane filled me in on that part, too.”
“I figured she would.”
“She’s just worried—”
“I know. God, I know.” She looked down into her empty glass. A refill would have been nice.
Lara pursed her neatly lined and lipsticked lips. “I hate to say it, but you’re even more tense than usual. Sit down, look me in the eye and talk to me.” She smiled in a sweet way that had defy-me-and-die undertones. “Please.”
Kylie obeyed, at least on the first and third requests. “I’m not trying to avoid—”
“Yes, you are.”
“But it’s not because—”
“Yes, it is.”
Kylie blew out a sigh and sank back against the chair cushion’s squishy, sink-into-me comfort. “I’m a mess.”
“Yes, you are.”
Kylie met her stepmother’s unperturbed gaze and had to laugh. “So now that that’s settled, can we talk about Paris?”
Lara’s smile turned tight. “No, we cannot.” Sitting forward, she looked Kylie straight in the eye, her gaze warm but imploring. “Is Chase why you and Wade stopped dating?”
It took Kylie a moment to catch up. Number one: She’d never mentioned to Lara that she and Wade Bell stopped seeing each other. Jane must have taken care of that when she’d filled her in on all the other gossip. Number two: She hadn’t thought much at all about Wade since . . . well, crap, since she’d stood next to Chase staring at the “killer” bat.
“It wasn’t because of Chase,” she said. A lie, though. Every time it didn’t work out with a guy, it was because of Chase.
“Do you think you gave Wade a fair chance?” Lara asked. “You went out for such a short time.”
“It was enough to know.”
“But he’s such a nice man, and a doctor.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Lara cocked her head. “Yes, I know you of all people know that. I’m just saying . . .” She trailed off with a shrug. “Handsome, smart, orthopedic doctor with regular hours, a sharp dresser and a full head of hair. What more could a girl want?”
Passion? Connection? Chase? Yes, Dr. Wade Bell had worked the miracle that saved her leg after the attack, and they’d developed a warm friendship in the years afterward that he’d suggested they
Kylie stared down at her white-knuckled hands. Talk. Right. She’d rather run a marathon without training. Or try to teach a cranky four-year-old how to serve for twelve hours straight. Or play soccer with a thriving bee hive. Or stand without her knee brace in front of roving, curious eyes.
“Here.”
She glanced up, surprised to see Lara holding out a rocks glass that contained what looked like two shots of amber liquid. She hadn’t even heard her stepmother move. “I don’t—”
“It’s whiskey,” Lara interrupted. “Drink it.”
She accepted the glass with a soft laugh, glad it didn’t have ice cubes that could knock against each other and give away how shaky she really was.
Lara resumed her position on the sofa, legs crossed and hands clasped on her knees, and waited for Kylie to do as she was told.
“Cheers,” Kylie said, toasting her stepmother before swallowing the fiery liquid in one gulp. The burn on the way down into her empty stomach reminded her of Chase’s lips tracking the side of her neck to the top of her shoulder, the heat of his fingers on the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of her T-shirt. He knew how to touch, knew how to stroke, knew exactly how to make her want. Clearly, he knew too much.
Lara started to smile. “Well, I see some color in your cheeks, so Mr. Johnny Walker must be doing his job.”
Kylie squinted her watering eyes and nodded. Yep, it’s Johnny Walker all the way. “Thank you.”
Lara tilted her head to one side, but when Kylie said nothing more, she sat back. “Let me guess: You don’t want to talk about it. Not that I had to guess. Jane filled me in on that part, too.”
“I figured she would.”
“She’s just worried—”
“I know. God, I know.” She looked down into her empty glass. A refill would have been nice.
Lara pursed her neatly lined and lipsticked lips. “I hate to say it, but you’re even more tense than usual. Sit down, look me in the eye and talk to me.” She smiled in a sweet way that had defy-me-and-die undertones. “Please.”
Kylie obeyed, at least on the first and third requests. “I’m not trying to avoid—”
“Yes, you are.”
“But it’s not because—”
“Yes, it is.”
Kylie blew out a sigh and sank back against the chair cushion’s squishy, sink-into-me comfort. “I’m a mess.”
“Yes, you are.”
Kylie met her stepmother’s unperturbed gaze and had to laugh. “So now that that’s settled, can we talk about Paris?”
Lara’s smile turned tight. “No, we cannot.” Sitting forward, she looked Kylie straight in the eye, her gaze warm but imploring. “Is Chase why you and Wade stopped dating?”
It took Kylie a moment to catch up. Number one: She’d never mentioned to Lara that she and Wade Bell stopped seeing each other. Jane must have taken care of that when she’d filled her in on all the other gossip. Number two: She hadn’t thought much at all about Wade since . . . well, crap, since she’d stood next to Chase staring at the “killer” bat.
“It wasn’t because of Chase,” she said. A lie, though. Every time it didn’t work out with a guy, it was because of Chase.
“Do you think you gave Wade a fair chance?” Lara asked. “You went out for such a short time.”
“It was enough to know.”
“But he’s such a nice man, and a doctor.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Lara cocked her head. “Yes, I know you of all people know that. I’m just saying . . .” She trailed off with a shrug. “Handsome, smart, orthopedic doctor with regular hours, a sharp dresser and a full head of hair. What more could a girl want?”
Passion? Connection? Chase? Yes, Dr. Wade Bell had worked the miracle that saved her leg after the attack, and they’d developed a warm friendship in the years afterward that he’d suggested they
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