“Can we talk about this later?”
“Define later.” The skin below the bandage needed a kiss as well.
“Right after we leave here. At my hotel. You need to skedaddle so I can get dressed.”
“In a second.” He smoothed flyaway strands from her face. The honeyed scent of her hair filled his lungs and he seemed to breathe easy for the first time since he’d heard she was hurt. He left one last soft smooch on her lips. It totally flustered her, which was odd, given that it wasn’t the first time he’d kissed her.
“Umm…Hand me my clothes.”
He dropped the pile on the bed. “I’ll be right outside.”
“No peeking,” she warned as he ducked out.
Kyle paced the length of the privacy curtain. On his fifth pass, he heard her gasp. Worried that she’d strained herself, he poked his head back in. “What’s wrong?”
Celia clutched a wad of fabric to her chest. “It was my favorite shirt. My lucky purple shirt. Now it’s covered in blood and completely ruined.” A little hiccup escaped. “I can’t wear this.”
“Are the jeans ruined too?”
“No. Just a few splotches of blood.”
“Tossing that shirt in the trash ain’t no big loss in my mind. I’m thinkin’ its luck ran out. Never looked that great on you anyway.”
Celia lifted her head, probably to snap at him. Before she opened her mouth, Kyle gently wiped her tears. “Come on, kitten, I was kiddin’.”
“Pretty stupid to be so upset over a blouse, huh?”
“Somehow I don’t think it’s just about the blouse. And given that you’re in the hospital, you’re entitled to a few tears. You don’t always have to act so tough, you know.” Kyle popped the buttons on his long-sleeved western shirt. “Although I wouldn’t mind seein’ you in just your sexy bra and them tight jeans, I don’t think you wanna flash the entire ER when I bust you outta this place. Wear this.” He draped his shirt over her pillow and tucked his white T-shirt into his jeans.
“Uh, thanks.”
Interesting that Celia couldn’t take her eyes off his chest. “My pleasure.” Kyle kissed her forehead. Twice.
“What’s with you kissin’ me all the time now?” she asked crossly.
“I hardly think a couple of pecks could be considered me kissin’ you all the time.” His eyes searched hers. “But I could ramp up the kisses to spark your memory from a few weeks back, if you’d like.”
“In your dreams.”
Kyle chuckled. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”
Like a total chickenshit, Celia was hiding in her hotel bathroom.
From Kyle.
Kyle. The guy she’d known since she was six years old.
What the hell was wrong with her?
Because the Kyle waiting for you is not the same Kyle you’ve known your entire life.
She dabbed concealer over the bruise on her cheekbone. Contrary to her sister-in-law Janie’s claims, Celia hadn’t been in love with Kyle Gilchrist since her childhood—she’d simply loved to annoy him.
Even when Kyle was a teenage boy, it took a lot to rile him, unlike her brothers, who were easily provoked. Armed with childish logic, Celia made it her mission to get under Kyle’s skin as often as possible.
She’d drawn hearts emblazoned with her name on every one of his school notebooks.
He’d retaliated by stringing up her My Little Pony collection from a tree.
She’d pushed him into the stock tank.
He’d held her down and tickled her until she peed her pants.
She’d put a snapping turtle in his gym bag.
He’d tied her to the tire swing and spun her until she puked.
All harmless pranks that demanded retaliation.
The problem was—Kyle still brought out every combative instinct she owned. Her first impulse was to goad him into an argument, or to fight back when he goaded her, which happened frequently since he’d never outgrown that juvenile behavior either.
But that had all changed three weeks ago with a kiss. An incredible kiss.
Tanna had dragged her to the annual New Year’s bash at rodeo legend Del Montoya’s ranch outside of Stephenville, Texas. Celia hadn’t known many people, so she’d been secretly happy to run into Kyle the first day of the two-day party.
Maybe it was the free-flowing alcohol, but she and Kyle hadn’t sniped at each other once. The lead rope tied around the door handle of Tanna’s horse trailer meant her friend was getting lucky that night, so Kyle let Celia crash in his camper. They’d talked and laughed until the wee small hours.
The next day Kyle and Tanna were competing in the private rodeo, leaving Celia at loose ends. In the late afternoon she’d headed to a small pond to watch the sunset. It’d struck her how alone she felt most the time, no matter whether she was surrounded by people, on the road, or in the arena—or even at home in Muddy Gap.
Kyle had tracked her down and somehow sensed her melancholy. The ease of the previous day’s conversation lingered, especially when they talked of home. Of frigid nights and miles of snow. Of the splendor of orange and purple Wyoming sunsets splashing across a pale gray winter sky.
When she mentioned the New Year’s Eve festivities, Kyle asked, “Have you picked a cowboy to kiss when the clock strikes twelve?”
“I’ve had enough drunken, forgotten kisses to last me a lifetime.”