Page 52 of Never Kiss the Bad Boy

“Nope,” I say evenly. “Not joking. Nick is a manager at Walmart,” I report.

Nick whispers, “Assistant manager.”

I lean forward, acting like I give a shit what he said. “Oh, my bad… assistant manager.”

“Do you need me to come get you? I’m getting on my bike. Just tell me where you are.”

I hear a door closing on his end, and I can picture him striding across his front yard, throwing a leg over Lucille, ready to come to my rescue. But I don’t need a rescue. This date was a loss before it started, and I’m pretty sure Nick sees that now too.

“I’m fine,” I say with a resigned sigh. Kyle says my name warningly, so I’m firmer when I say, “I’m okay, really. I’ll just see you tomorrow.”

I hang up, wishing I could talk to Kyle all night instead of being here, because somehow, not hurting my mom ends up hurting me more often than not.

“Sorry,” I tell Nick, “that was a friend I had plans with tonight but had to cancel on because Mama told me she needed dinner.”

“I heard,” he says, his dark brows furrowing together. And though I expect more questions about that, he plows right on with what he was saying before my phone rang. “So, yeah, a two-year business degree is totally doable with online classes and would increase my salary by four dollars an hour.”

Is. He. Fucking. Serious?

I feel my jaw drop open in disbelief, but Nick doesn’t even notice because he’s scooping up the last of his rice and beans. I shake my head and do the same, going back to my meal because as awful as the date is, Nick is right about one thing. This mole is delicious.

The rest of dinner, he keeps talking, and though I finish my Pepsi, plus a second, even the caffeine can’t keep me awake. He’s not a bad guy, truly. He’s just not what I’m looking for, mostly because I’m not looking for anyone, as I’ve repeatedly told my family.

Thankfully, Nick says he has the early shift at work tomorrow and heads toward my house right after dinner, plugging my address into his GPS even though I tell him that I can direct him there.

As he pulls into my driveway, he says, “My days off are usually Tuesday and Wednesday. Maybe next week, we can get together and I can… what the hell?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Nick that I’m busy next week, and the week after that, and the one after that too, but at his clipped words, I look to where he’s staring.

Kyle is sitting on my front step, illuminated in the porch light I left on for myself. I can’t hide the smile that steals across my face. The first of the night.

Nick puts the SUV in park and climbs out, slamming his door and stomping toward Kyle. I open my own door to hear him demanding, “Who are you and why are you on Daniela’s porch?”

Kyle has stood up, and the difference in the two men could not be more marked. Nick is five-nine at most, and maybe 160 pounds soaking wet. Kyle is six-foot at least, and probably closer to 200 pounds of hard muscle. Muscle I’ve felt beneath my hands and against my body.

“I’m Kyle,” he says, his eyes finding me as I come around the SUV’s hood. I feel him check me over, like he’s worried I’m injured or harmed in some way, and then his eyes go back to Nick. “And you are?”

“Nick.” He bows up a bit, puffing his chest out the way he did earlier, but this time, it’s like he’s trying to intimidate Kyle.

Kyle smirks in response. “Well, Nick… thanks for bringing Dani home. Have a good night.” He lifts his hand in a dismissive good-bye wave, but Nick flinches at the movement as though he was expecting a hit.

It’s a losing move in the stand-off between the two men, and we all know it.

Still, Nick tries to stay tough. “I’m not leaving. You are,” he says, sounding like a grade schooler. “Unless you want trouble.”

Kyle crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps looking extra bulge-y, and plants his feet, claiming ground, and grins an entirely new version I haven’t seen before. He looks scary, dangerous, his smile saying ‘bring it, if you think you can.’

I’ve been borderline passive-aggressive all night, sighing, rolling my eyes, and even mentally checking out as Nick droned on about himself. Now, it’s time for aggressive-aggressive.

I step between them, declaring harshly, “Enough.” I turn to Nick, telling him, “Thank you for dinner. There won’t be another date. You can go now.” He stammers, but I don’t slow, having held my tongue all night. “Kyle, I said I was fine and didn’t need a rescue.” He starts to say something too, but I point to the house. “Go inside, now.”

I toss the key I’ve already dug out of my purse at Kyle, and he snatches it out of the air but doesn’t move toward the door, not willing to leave me alone with Nick.

“You’re fucking crazy, bitch,” Nick tells me, sneering.

He’s been annoying and borderline rude all evening, but his true nature is coming out, showing how crude and offensive he can be. He’s taking the gloves off? Fine by me, because now, I’m the one he needs to be scared of. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” I snap, glaring as I take a step his way.

To his credit, Nick must not be a stupid man because he moves back slightly, and when he sees the fury in my eyes, he throws his hands up—which I don’t flinch about in the slightest—and makes a sound dismissing the whole mess. He quick-walks back to his SUV, climbs in, and backs out of my driveway, nearly hitting Mrs. Stephens’s mailbox across the street in the process. When his cherry red taillights disappear around the corner, I whirl on Kyle, who still hasn’t moved.

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