me?”
“What?” Her mouth fell open. “How did you know . . . ? That’s different!”
Kirk pulled her inside and shut the door. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Different how?”
“It’s . . . it’s personal.” She wasn’t ready to explain about Duncan and her all-over-the-place feelings.
It was as if a wall of ice came down over his face. “So I’m not entitled to know things about your personal life. Fine. We’re even. Thanks for stopping by.” He put his hand on her shoulder and spun her around toward the door. She ducked under his arm and spun herself right back.
“That’s not what I meant.”
One of his eyebrows rose in a question. “Let me have it then. What did you mean?”
“I meant . . .” Oh God. Why was it so hard to say the important things? But for six years she’d avoided saying the important things to Duncan, and look where that had gotten her. “I meant . . .” He was leaving. A moving van stood in his driveway. Hurt lurked in his silvery eyes.
She loved him.
“I meant,” she continued in barely a whisper, “that I want to be with you. You’re like this pool of beautiful sunshine in my heart, and every time I think of you I get happy, and believe me, that’s a lot, I think about you all the time, but I didn’t want you to be a rebound guy, not that you would be, but I wanted to make sure. So I was sort of . . . waiting . . . but then Ryan said you were moving to Alaska . . . Alaska , do you know how far away that is?”
“Maribel,” said Kirk, his voice rough, his eyes gone deepest gray. “I took a job in a small town up there that needs someone to train their volunteers. If figure I’ll be inside more and it’ll be easier to avoid the sun that far north. The UV level is lower. It’s still a risk. I’ll always have to be careful. The doctors say the cancer could come back.”
Tears clogged the back of her throat, tears at the thought of no more Kirk, at the thought that he’d nearly died, that he could still die. “I understand all that. But you would just leave without saying goodbye?”
“No.” He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a sheaf of paper covered with tiny writing. “Here’s my goodbye.”
“A letter ?”
“You know me. I’m not so good when it comes to talking. But it explains everything.”
His wobbly smile was too much for her, the icing on the cake of his irresistibility. She threw herself into his arms. Well, technically, against his chest, but he quickly wrapped his strong arms around her. His heart beat fast against her chest, a rapid patter that told her he was just as rattled as she was. Being back in Kirk’s arms felt wonderful, better than wonderful, like a miracle.
“I don’t want your letter, Kirk,” she murmured into his warm neck.
“You don’t?”
“I want you. Right now. And later on too.”
“You sure?” He leaned his head back to peer into her face. “What about the rebound thing?”
“Forget that. You’re not a rebound guy. You’re the guy I’ve had a crush on for years but never let myself admit it. The guy I want to make love to for the next twenty-four hours straight. The guy who’s kind to children and animals and women and total strangers whose houses happened to catch fire. The guy who makes my heart want to dance right out of my body every time you touch me. The guy who . . .”
He silenced her with a deep, spine-tingling kiss. “All right. Not that I don’t love listening to you, but is there any action to go with that talk?”
“See?” She rained kisses on his dear, tired, handsome face. “You love listening to me. I love that. That’s important, right? I’ve had enough of not speaking up for myself. No more of that, no way. If you want to be with me, you have to care what I think. And want.”
“Oh I care, all right.” He lifted her legs, one by one, so they wrapped around his waist. “Especially if you happen to be wanting me.”
“I
“What?” Her mouth fell open. “How did you know . . . ? That’s different!”
Kirk pulled her inside and shut the door. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Different how?”
“It’s . . . it’s personal.” She wasn’t ready to explain about Duncan and her all-over-the-place feelings.
It was as if a wall of ice came down over his face. “So I’m not entitled to know things about your personal life. Fine. We’re even. Thanks for stopping by.” He put his hand on her shoulder and spun her around toward the door. She ducked under his arm and spun herself right back.
“That’s not what I meant.”
One of his eyebrows rose in a question. “Let me have it then. What did you mean?”
“I meant . . .” Oh God. Why was it so hard to say the important things? But for six years she’d avoided saying the important things to Duncan, and look where that had gotten her. “I meant . . .” He was leaving. A moving van stood in his driveway. Hurt lurked in his silvery eyes.
She loved him.
“I meant,” she continued in barely a whisper, “that I want to be with you. You’re like this pool of beautiful sunshine in my heart, and every time I think of you I get happy, and believe me, that’s a lot, I think about you all the time, but I didn’t want you to be a rebound guy, not that you would be, but I wanted to make sure. So I was sort of . . . waiting . . . but then Ryan said you were moving to Alaska . . . Alaska , do you know how far away that is?”
“Maribel,” said Kirk, his voice rough, his eyes gone deepest gray. “I took a job in a small town up there that needs someone to train their volunteers. If figure I’ll be inside more and it’ll be easier to avoid the sun that far north. The UV level is lower. It’s still a risk. I’ll always have to be careful. The doctors say the cancer could come back.”
Tears clogged the back of her throat, tears at the thought of no more Kirk, at the thought that he’d nearly died, that he could still die. “I understand all that. But you would just leave without saying goodbye?”
“No.” He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a sheaf of paper covered with tiny writing. “Here’s my goodbye.”
“A letter ?”
“You know me. I’m not so good when it comes to talking. But it explains everything.”
His wobbly smile was too much for her, the icing on the cake of his irresistibility. She threw herself into his arms. Well, technically, against his chest, but he quickly wrapped his strong arms around her. His heart beat fast against her chest, a rapid patter that told her he was just as rattled as she was. Being back in Kirk’s arms felt wonderful, better than wonderful, like a miracle.
“I don’t want your letter, Kirk,” she murmured into his warm neck.
“You don’t?”
“I want you. Right now. And later on too.”
“You sure?” He leaned his head back to peer into her face. “What about the rebound thing?”
“Forget that. You’re not a rebound guy. You’re the guy I’ve had a crush on for years but never let myself admit it. The guy I want to make love to for the next twenty-four hours straight. The guy who’s kind to children and animals and women and total strangers whose houses happened to catch fire. The guy who makes my heart want to dance right out of my body every time you touch me. The guy who . . .”
He silenced her with a deep, spine-tingling kiss. “All right. Not that I don’t love listening to you, but is there any action to go with that talk?”
“See?” She rained kisses on his dear, tired, handsome face. “You love listening to me. I love that. That’s important, right? I’ve had enough of not speaking up for myself. No more of that, no way. If you want to be with me, you have to care what I think. And want.”
“Oh I care, all right.” He lifted her legs, one by one, so they wrapped around his waist. “Especially if you happen to be wanting me.”
“I
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