Being jealous was a first.
In the past, Kyler had always been possessive in the sense that he enjoyed letting people know the following: Bree belonged to him, he made her happy, and no one else need apply. But Bree never once gave him cause to be actively jealous and vice versa. A pretty rare feat among high school students. Kyler was damn grateful now that they’d been the exception to the rule because it meant Bree trusting his word without question when he said he’d been faithful.
Bree hadn’t dated, either, so there was no reason to feel edgy and irritable. He didn’t like the fact that she’d been asked out at all, though. Kind of felt like his tonsils were being yanked out with pliers. Not a nice sensation.
Hell, it didn’t surprise him one bit that another man had taken notice of Bree. Big, beautiful bedroom eyes and a mouth that could snap out a comeback faster than lightning tended to get attention. Throw in that fluid, sexy way she walked, her grace, her intelligence? Kyler should count himself lucky someone else hadn’t gotten the notion to propose to her while he was in Cincinnati.
Realizing his fingers were digging into the meat of his thighs, Kyler forced himself to rein in the green monster.
“This is a bad idea,” Bree muttered, casting him a speculative look from the driver’s seat. “You’re an animal skin toga away from turning into a caveman.”
“You want to see me in leopard print.” He winked at her. “Hint taken.”
Bree’s laugh tinkled like jostled bells. “You’re forgetting I already have.”
The memory came back to him in a series of sounds and blurry pictures. “Valentine’s Day. That’s right.” Wrapping paper tearing. Bree squealing as he tickled her ribs, the present resting on the floor beside them. “You always were creative when it came to giving gifts.”
“I knew I couldn’t beat you at being thoughtful, so I went for cheap laughs instead.” Turning the truck off the road, she bit her lip. “You still have those leopard print boxers?”
“I have everything you’ve ever given me.”
Her eyelids fell, silence filling the car for long moments. “I lived in fear of my father finding those boxers before I could give them to you.” A small smile formed on her mouth. “Afterward, I lost sleep wondering if your mama would find them. You promised me to hand-wash them in the sink, so she wouldn’t.”
Kyler scratched his chin and braced for impact. “About that…”
Bree gasped, jerking the wheel of the truck. “Kyler Joseph Tate.”
“I accidentally put them in the laundry basket once. Came home to find them neatly folded on my pillow.” He shook his head. “My mom has a weird sense of humor.”
“How am I ever going to look her in the eye again?”
An image of Bree and his mother sitting side by side at a dinner table made him yearn so hard, he had to take a few seconds to breathe. “You ever bump into my mother around town?”
“Don’t think I’m letting the subject slide.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, supergirl.”
She sent him some hefty side-eye, but softened when Kyler pasted on his most contrite expression. “Once in a while at Nelson’s. She’s usually there with friends having coffee and pie.” A beat passed. “She always asks me if I’m seeing anyone.”
“And you always say, ‘No, ma’am. Just textbooks and the backs of my eyelids.’”
Bree stretched her fingers on the steering wheel. “Should have known she was asking for you.”
“Got the full report every Sunday.” They traded a turbulent glance. “You want to know what really got it in my head, Bree? That I needed to come get you back?”
“I, um…” The pulse fluttered at the base of her neck, her body shifting in the driver’s seat. “I don’t know, I—”
“While you decide, I’ll get started. How about that?” Kyler looked straight out the windshield toward the approaching farm, but in his mind’s eye, he saw a man standing on his family’s porch, cornfields spread out behind him. “You remember back in December when we almost lost the farm?”
She took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it over her heart. “Thank God you didn’t.”
“Yeah.” Kyler swallowed the tightness in his throat. “Coach Brooks’s girlfriend, Peggy—she’s his wife now—came up with the fundraiser to satisfy the debt we owed to the bank. Well, it turned out Peggy and Brooks dated on the sly once upon a time. And while they were in Bloomfield, he was working on getting Peggy back. Failing pretty hard at it, best I could tell.”
He laughed under his breath at the memory of his coach, living legend Elliott “Kingmaker” Brooks asking for dating advice on his porch.
“So I told him to take her to Marengo Cave.” Kyler couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “You remember when we went there?”
“I remember the bats.”
“That can’t be the only thing you remember.” Taking a chance, Kyler reached across the console and laid a hand on Bree’s thigh, groaning inwardly when the muscles twitched beneath his palm. “If I recall correctly, that was one of those times you couldn’t keep these babies from cinching up around my waist.”
With trembling fingers, Bree cranked the air conditioner, giving him an evil look when he chuckled. “I was scared of having my blood sucked out.”
“All part of my diabolical plan.” Giving her thigh one final squeeze, Kyler took his hand back. “I told my coach about you and he said something that stuck. Stuck harder than I realized at the time. ‘Imagine you have one more day to fix everything…before she never thinks about you again.’” A chill moved through him and it had nothing to do with the air conditioner. “Scared the shit out of me, Bree. Still does. I didn’t know how much until I was drafted.”
She pulled the truck to a stop outside a freshly painted barn, her hand falling limp after turning off the ignition. “There’s nothing that could stop me thinking about you. Our pasts are twined too closely together for that.”
“You could say the same about our futures.”
Her breath caught and the moment slowed down, Bree turning soft eyes on him, rain pattering on the truck’s roof. In that space of time, he saw past her defenses. Saw they were weakening. And for the first time since coming back to Bloomfield, he reckoned he might have a chance.
“Kyler.”
“I know I’m pushing, but I’m running short on time, Bree.” Instinct screamed at him to drag her into his lap, to kiss the reservations and doubts out of her mind, but now wasn’t the time. If he moved forward before she caught up, he’d ultimately lose ground, and that was out of the question.
His flight was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.
The sound of the barn door sliding open had both of them looking out the windshield. A man who looked to be in his mid-twenties strode out through the opening, a cowboy hat shielding his head against the rain. His smile was wide when it searched out Bree in the truck, but it dimmed when he saw Kyler. Good.
“Behave yourself, Kyler Joseph, or I’ll take a bite out of you.”
“Promise?”
Color deepening on her cheeks, Bree collected her bag and climbed out of the truck, waving at the approaching fuck-face. “Hey, Mitch. How’s the patient?”
“Mitch,” Kyler snorted, then went to join them outside.
Kyler’s competitive side could be fierce when the situation called for it. During his final year at Cincinnati, he’d been one of the three team captains, putting him at centerfield for the coin toss. No matter how often football purists waxed poetic about sportsmanship, that strut down the fifty-yard line to size up the opposing team’s captains called for intimidation. Always had. While some of his teammates liked to crack their necks or bash their shoulder pads, Kyler chose to stand real still and make eye contact with each opposing player, looking for chinks in their armor. If he were the bragging sort, he’d call it damned effective.
This situation with Mitch wasn’t a competition, though. He wasn’t trying to be the bigger, more intimidating man. If he handled his jealousy by acting like a territorial dick, Bree would shut down on him faster than he could spit. So while the green monster hummed and shook inside him, begging to be appeased, Kyler forced himself to ignore it and remember one thing.
A life with him in Los Angeles was Bree’s choice. Not his. He’d laid his cards on the table, bared his feelings, and the next move belonged to her. All he could do at this point was surprise her. And God knew, he loved doing that.
“Good to meet you, Mitch. Kyler Tate.” He put his hand out. “Hope you don’t mind me tagging along to watch Bree work.”
Mitch’s eyebrows hitched up—hell, the trainer almost looked disappointed in him being friendly—but he shook with Kyler nonetheless. “No, uh…that’s fine.” He tilted his head. “Kyler Tate, you say? Why does that ring a bell?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’ll come to you.”
The trainer scrutinized him another few seconds before shrugging. “Well, let’s get out of the rain, shall we?”
Kyler gave Mitch what he hoped was a winning smile. “Great idea. Thanks.”
When the other man turned for the barn—shoulders slumped a good deal more than before—Kyler found a mixture of suspicion and amusement on Bree’s pretty face. “You see something interesting over here, supergirl?”
“When exactly am I going to get a handle on you?”
He checked the urge to throw an arm around Bree’s shoulders, draw her up against his side. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
They stopped at the entrance to one of the stalls. Inside, a brown horse with patches of white lay down, muscles tense. If Kyler didn’t see it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed that the mare sighed in relief when it spotted Bree. She murmured something to the animal but made no move to approach, seeming to communicate from ten feet away.
“Her name is Flo-Rida.”
He smiled “Like the rapper?”
“Yeah.” She leaned into him and pointed at the horse’s behind. “But also because she has a white patch in the shape of Florida. The owner’s teenage son named her.”
“Give that kid a medal.”
Mitch cleared his throat behind them, reminding Kyler they weren’t alone.
“Looks like you have everything under control for now,” Mitch said. “I’m heading out for a bit. Call my number if you need anything.”
Ignoring Kyler’s grumble over her speaking with another man on the phone, Bree turned to Mitch and nodded. “Will do. Thank you.”
If Kyler wasn’t mistaken, Mitch looked a little dejected over not being asked to stay, so Kyler took some pity on him. “Wait up, Mitch.” He jogged over and met the trainer at the barn entrance. “You mentioned my name ringing a bell. If that’s on account of me playing football for Cincinnati and—”
Mitch snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Hol-ee shit.” He smacked a hand against his outer thigh. “You’re playing for the Rage next season.”
“Right.” Kyler winked over at a dumbstruck Bree, who was probably going nuts not being able to hear their conversation. “I have a line on Bearcats tickets if you’re ever up for a drive.”
A few minutes later, Kyler’s number was programmed into the trainer’s phone and Kyler had to admit, not succumbing to jealousy had been harder than evading a tackle, but twice as satisfying.
Returning to Bree at the stall entrance, he leaned down to talk beside her ear. “Aren’t you going to go in?”
She turned sparkling, excited eyes on him. “Not unless I’m needed.” The backs of their hands brushed together and Kyler’s belly tightened up like a drum. Not only because her touch never failed to have an effect, but her love for the animal, for her job, was contagious. “Foals are born naturally. They’re cleaned by their mothers afterward and the bonding process begins. I try to stay out of it, only helping if there’s a complication.”
“Does that happen a lot?” Kyler asked, just to keep her talking in that rushing, euphoric way.
“I wouldn’t say a lot. But nature needs a push once in a while.” Her excited smile stopped his breath. “That’s where I come in.”
You want to take her away from this?
Ten gallons of cement coated Kyler’s shoulders, hardening immediately. Bree was watching him closely, though, so he forced a casual demeanor. “You were right. The horse does trust you. I could see it.” A million thoughts raced in his head, but one stood out brighter than all others. “Dammit, Bree. I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you, too,” she whispered, her brows drawing together at whatever she read on his face. “Kyler?”
Who was he kidding? He’d never been able to hide anything for long from Bree. A fact he’d completely forgotten in the face of seeing how much she thrived in this environment. An environment that might as well be a million miles from Los Angeles.
She started to speak again, but the mare made a distressed sound and stood on shaky legs, sending Bree rushing into the stall.