PREVIEW OF NAILED DOWN
“It’s why I’m here.” I hid the smug grin I wore behind my coffee, telling myself it wasn’t stupid to feel like a chump for making the woman happy. I liked when she was happy. Mainly I liked being the man to do the job, but that shit came from somewhere I didn’t bother thinking about. No need to imagine things when I knew the truth: Kit Carlyle was my friend, but fuck, did I want to be a helluva lot more than that.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she admitted, and some stupid, ridiculous thing in my gut went all wobbly. But if Kit noticed the break in my composure—and the quick blink of my eyes and a long, slow sip from my mug to keep me from saying something stupid—she didn’t mention it. Instead, she looked around the cabin, nodding a greeting to Gin when she smiled as she moved past us before I felt another nudge on my arm. “I need to run something by you.”
“Such as?” But she went all quiet again, out of character when Kit wanted something, enough that I turned to watch her, eyebrows shooting up when she cast a look all around, looking damn guilty or stupid nervous. I couldn’t tell which. “Something up?”
“Well, it’s just that I need…”
“Hey, Mr. Storm…” The intern started laughing at himself before Kit stepped back, clearing her throat as though she didn’t want this little punk to know she was about to say something only for my ears. That just pissed me off.
“You see me standing here speaking to someone?” I asked the kid, tilting my head to glare at him. He nodded, then looked to Kit as though she might tell him it was okay to interrupt us. But the woman’s attention was on her phone when she took it out as a distraction. I snapped my fingers, bringing the kid’s attention back to me. “Go. Away.”
“Look, Kane…” But Hipster didn’t get a chance to bug me any further. Dale approached, taking the kid’s shoulder to turn him, then gave the boy a gentle shove to lead him back toward a stack of 1x4s. The saws started up after that, and I nodded toward the door, getting Kit to follow me out of the cabin and down the driveway until we were at my silver F-150. She hopped right in when I opened the door for her, curling her arms over her chest as though she were frozen solid. The woman was always cold, no matter the temperature, and always bitched that I never ran the heat in my truck.
“All right,” I said, my head shaking at how she blew on her fingers like we were in the Arctic and not in a small wooded area intersected by Copper Creek. “Jesus.” Then I flipped on the heater and moved the vents toward her. “Now. Whatcha got?”
“Oh.” Kit went a little shy on me, way out of character, and I forgot about everything else but the small slip of fear that started crowding my head. This woman never shied away from telling me what to do or what she needed and the fact she wouldn’t look at me put me on edge.
“Hey,” I said, leaning over my steering wheel and moving my head toward her, trying to catch her attention. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing… It’s just…” She exhaled and rubbed her eyes. I could make out the frown behind her hands when she scrubbed her face, and for some reason, that bullshit worry grew more intense. Finally, through a long breath, Kit looked at me straight on, licking her lips like I’d seen her do a thousand times. That shit meant trouble. I’d seen it firsthand. That slow, preparing for battle lip lick meant shit was about to get twisted. “Kane,” she said, squaring her shoulders, “I need you. I need only you.”
Fuck me, I was in trouble.