CHAPTER 8
Jane
I don’t even bother to unload my car. I leave the leftover paintings I hadn’t sold and my pride sitting in there. Instead, all I take is my purse and the six pack of beer I’d picked up at Ernie’s Grab-N-Go three minutes ago.
My driveway runs east along the side of my house, so after I close my door and lock it, I walk straight past my house and across my front yard. I cross over Cranberry Lane and enter Kyle’s front yard.
But I don’t go up to his front porch. I walk along the side of his little cottage, past the walkway that veers off to the right that leads to the lighthouse door. Before turning left to walk up his back porch steps, I notice that the flowers he planted the other day look really nice. At the top of the porch, he has a small, round wooden table flanked by two Adirondack chairs that face out toward the Atlantic Ocean.
Perfect.
I set my purse down on the porch, the beer on the table, and smooth my hands over my hair. I’d worn a summer dress to the festival today. I paired it with my standard white cardigan, which is appreciated right this moment as a chilly evening breeze is coming off the ocean.
Reaching an arm out, I sharply knock on his back screen door, then immediately clasp my hands behind my back to wait for him.
I hear movement inside and can see his form moving toward the door through the sheer curtain that covers the glass panes. Just like when I disturbed him a few mornings ago with my water pipe catastrophe, he answers without a shirt but in those really, really great-fitting jeans.
He doesn’t say anything, just cocks an eyebrow at me through the screen door.
I tilt my head to the right, indicating the beer on the table. “I’m commandeering your back porch. I’m going to drink a few beers and enjoy the amazing ocean view that’s blocked by your house when I’m on my front porch. Join me if you’d like.”
I don’t wait for an answer, just turn and serenely walk to the furthest Adirondack chair from the door. I ease down into it and perch my feet on the bottom of the porch rail, tucking my skirt in around my ass so it keeps my legs covered.
I have no clue what Kyle will do. If I go on past experience, he’ll shut the door, lock it, and ignore me. But I can’t worry about that. I truly am here to borrow his ocean view and drink a few beers because I fucking deserve them after what happened with Craig earlier.
Reaching into the plastic grocery bag, I nab a beer and twist the top off. I’m not a big beer drinker, and most definitely not a connoisseur, so I went with Miller Lite because it was on sale and I don’t have all the money in the world. I would normally be drinking wine, but in deference to Kyle, who does not seem like a wine drinker, I bought beer.
I’m surprised when I hear the screen door open with a creak. I turn my head to the right to watch Kyle step through. Sadly, he put clothes on his upper body—a white t-shirt with a red-and-gray flannel shirt over it. Same thing he was wearing a little over an hour ago when he rescued me from Craig.
Kyle moves to the Adirondack and sits down with a sigh. He leans over, pulls a beer from the bag, and gives a slight grimace. “You have shit taste in beer.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” I reply softly as I watch him open the bottle.
“So, you just thought you’d come over and share a neighborly beer with me, huh?” he asks, and I feel like that’s amusement in his voice. And that’s very nice, because he normally speaks in short, clipped tones that are completely lacking any humor. In fact, that could be the longest sentence he’s ever said to me unprompted.
I reach into the breast pocket of my cardigan and pull the money out. Sliding my hand across the table, I hold it out to him. “Actually, I came by to give you your fifty dollars in change for that ridiculous painting you bought from me.”
He ignores the money and looks out over the ocean. “I told you to keep the change, and it’s not ridiculous.”
“Kyle,” I say in exasperation as I wave the money at him. He refuses to look at me. “It’s a ruined painting. It should go straight into the garbage. I feel terrible—”
“Look, sunshine,” Kyle growls as he turns and pins me with a fierce glare. “I’m not in the habit of throwing my money away. I bought the fucking painting because I liked it and I wanted it. It’s hanging over my goddamn mantel right now if you don’t believe me.”
My jaw drops as I just stare at him in disbelief. First, because he sounds pissed and that scares me just a bit. But secondly, and more importantly, because he actually hung that stupid thing up. I mean, I just thought he was being chivalrous, but maybe he’s being more than that.
“And put your fucking money away,” he snaps at me as his gaze goes briefly to the fifty dollars in my hand before coming back to me. “And let me drink my damn beer in peace.”
“God, you’re grumpy,” I mutter as I tuck the fifty dollars back in my pocket.
I don’t miss the fact his lips curve upward over my sentiment.
We sit in silence for a few moments as we sip at our beers and watch the ocean. But I didn’t come here to just sit quietly. And I really didn’t even come here to make sure he got his change. I came here to try to learn more about him, and I did so on the hope—slim as it may be—that since he was so enraged over what Craig had done to me, that perhaps he’s not as cold as he seems. Clearly, he has some capacity to care, and, unfortunately, that made me more curious about him than ever.
It also made him superiorly more attractive as well.
“So, bet you’re wondering what the deal was with that guy, huh?” I ask out of the blue to make conversation.
“Not really,” Kyle mutters before taking another swig of his beer.
I ignore that comment. “Well, it turns out we have a very sordid past together. We were together and really in love. Engaged to be married. But he got me involved in drugs. Soon after that, it was petty theft. My life was just spiraling—”
Kyle’s head snaps toward me, his eyes narrowed. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
“Yes,” I say teasingly. “I’m just kidding, but it proves to me that you’re at least interested enough to listen to my ramblings.”
“Nutty as a fruitcake,” he mutters, but his lips are definitely tipped upward as he turns back to the ocean.
And because he’s at least listening, I do tell him the truth. “Actually, we broke up a long time ago, but he just can’t stop being an asshole around me. I mean, I caught him cheating with that tramp, yet he has the gall to be pissed at me for breaking up with him. How’s that not the definition of insanity?”
Kyle doesn’t respond for a moment, but then he says in a low tone, “I imagine his insanity is in the fact he cheated on someone like you with that tramp.”
And wow… just wow. That was really nice. And sweet. His voice was all kinds of sexy with that deep rumble, and it really sounded like he meant it.
I want to hear more, so I prod him. “You can’t say that. I mean… you don’t really know me or anything.”
“Know enough,” is all he says, which does nothing to continue to stroke my bruised ego.
“Well, I know absolutely nothing about you,” I say, taking the opening that he just gave me. “Except that you were born in Maryland.”
To my immense surprise, he asks, “What do you want to know?”
“Are you married?”
“Nope.”
“Ever been married?”
“Nope.”
“Do you speak in more than one-word sentences?”
“Sometimes.”
I giggle and then ask, “Okay, serious question… how old are you?”
“Thirty-four,” he says, and then actually extends his sentence. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-six,” I tell him, pleased he’s interested in something about me personally. “I’ll be twenty-seven in November.”
“A babe,” he says gruffly.
“Not really,” I disagree with him primly. “I know things.”
For the first time, Kyle gives me a genuine smile as he turns to me and asks, “Oh, yeah? Like what?”
“Hmm,” I ponder thoughtfully, tapping my index finger against my chin. “Well, you’re a very interesting guy. You’re dark and mysterious. Reclusive yet very intriguing. I’d say you’ve got a haunted past, and I’m kind of drawn to that.”
Kyle’s eyes burn into mine. “Why would you ever be drawn to that?”
I shrug. “Because I want good things for good people, I guess.”
“You want to try to fix me?” he asks blandly.
“Maybe,” I say with a grin. “Can I borrow your tools?”
The minute those words are out of my mouth, my face flames red at the innuendo I just innocently uttered. “Oh, shit… I didn’t mean anything dirty by that. I mean… well, you have tools. You used them to shut off the water. I was talking about those types of tools, not like… your tool. And oh, God… I’m going to die right now from embarrassment.”
I must be positively adorable in my embarrassment because Kyle just shakes his head with a smirk on his face, and we lapse back into silence for a while.
I finish my beer and open another, because I’ve made real progress here tonight. He does the same.
The sun, which is behind us in the west, fully sets. Our view of the ocean gradually declines until we see only a faint glimmer along the water every time the light in the tower spins to alert boats of the jetty.
It’s nice. Maybe a bit awkward since I like conversation, but I can’t think of another place I’d want to be right now.
“Jane?” Kyle says quietly, and I let my head roll to the right to look at him. “Just so you know, I can’t be fixed. So don’t even go there, okay?”
“Okay,” I murmur to reassure him of my good intentions, but now I’m committed more than ever to figuring out this mysterious man.