Page 27 of Kyle

My eyes start to glaze, and I pick up the knife.

“You okay?”

“I think the onion’s getting to me.” I wipe my face with my apron hem.

Kyle lays a hand on my shoulder. “Sutton—” Someone approaches the window, and he turns. “Hey, Rafe. You hungry?”

My eyes widen. Did he see us? Did he see his brother’s hand on my shoulder? But when I brave a glance, Rafe’s grinning.

“Just came to steal Sutton away for a break.” He looks past Kyle to me. “You ready, babe?”

My gaze shifts to Kyle. “If it’s okay with you.”

“Sure. I’ve got this.”

I untie my apron, and Rafe meets me at the back door, threading our fingers together and leading me toward the clubhouse. I dare a peek over my shoulder and find Kyle watching.

Rafe leads me inside and gets me a beer. Then we wander over to a poker game, and he asks if he can join in. I hang in a chair next to him, bored.

After twenty minutes, I lean to Rafe. “I need to get back and help Kyle. He’s manning the truck alone, and there are a lot of people here.”

Rafe barely glances at me, reaching for his glass. “Yeah, sure. I’ll walk you out.”

“That’s not necessary. Finish your poker game.” I stand, and he grabs my hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss, then tugs me down and kisses my mouth.

“I’ll come by in a bit.”

“Okay.” I make my way through the crowded clubhouse. When I climb in the back of the truck, there’s a line, and Kyle is rushing around. “Sorry, I should have stayed.”

His gaze flicks to me for just a split second. “Can you get another batch of tacos ready? I need six more. I’ve got burgers going, but I need to get another batch of onion rings in the fryer.” He’s busy chopping onions.

“On it.” I get to work.

With the grill going, the trailer is hot, even though it’s a cool day. Kyle’s wearing an Evil Dead t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, and his tanned, inked biceps glisten. He looks hot as hell… in the sexy meaning of the term.

We work until the line is gone and finally have a minute to breathe.

Kyle tosses a spatula and leans against the counter. He grabs a bottle of water and chugs it all, his throat working and droplets trailing down. When he lowers the bottle, our eyes connect.

“Where’s Rafe?” he asks.

“Playing poker.”

Kyle nods and looks away. Now that we’ve got a moment and I can observe him, I notice something’s bothering him.

“What’s wrong?”

He huffs a laugh. “I suppose you’ll think it’s hilarious.”

“What’s that?”

“Melissa and Harley Jean signed me up on a dating app.”

“You’re kidding?” I grin.

“Nope.” Sliding his phone from his back pocket, he pulls up the app and turns the screen to face me.

“Did you know about this?” I scan the text and photo.

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