Page 17 of The Kings of Kearny

“I’m fine,” I bit out.

“How do you take your coffee?” he repeated.

“Just cream if you have it,” I said, trying to act as normal as possible. The military had taught me that responding to this kind of teasing only made it worse.

He pulled a to-go mug out of a cupboard, filled it for me, and met me by the door as I stepped into my shoes. “Here you go.”

I took the mug from him as I straightened, touched but slightly confused. Jakob didn’t seem like that bad of a guy. Maybe he was a little arrogant, but let’s face it, he’d earned that self-assurance. And he might have been blunt, cagey about details of his life, and borderline domineering at times, but then there were little things, like not being the least bit put off by my leg, carrying me to the shower, those dark hints of humor, and now this thing with the coffee, that made me think he didn’t quite deserve his black reputation.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re welcome.” He pulled the chair away from the doorknob, unlatched the locks, and then turned away and strode into the kitchen without a backward glance. “See you in a while.”

I shoved my frustration down and left his apartment. I hadnotbeen hoping for a goodbye kiss. Not one bit.

I almost convinced myself that was true by the time I pulled out of the parking lot, sipping some of the best homemade coffee I’d had in years.

Chapter Six

Magnolia Hills NursingHome sat on ten well-manicured acres of rolling Texas hills. Most of it was cultivated into parkland, with vast stretches of mowed lawns dotted here and there with towering live oaks that provided a much-needed bit of shade. Quaint, split-rail fences separated one area from the next. Paths wound lazily throughout the grounds, and the staff regularly encouraged their residents to get out and get some exercise on the days we didn’t have black-flag warnings.

Gran and I liked to slip out through the back doors when I visited and while away the hours walking. Or we’d head to our favorite bench. It stood beneath a namesake magnolia on the crest of the tallest hill on the property. Together, we’d sit and gossip as white, fluffy clouds marched past overhead. This was Big Sky Country, and the view from up there stretched from horizon to horizon in all directions.

I pulled into the parking lot of the nursing home and turned the car off. The building itself was less inspiring than its surroundings. It was only three stories tall, and instead of being built to impress, it was made to withstand the tornadoes that ripped through here every spring.

At twelve thirty on the dot, the thunder of a revving motorcycle reached my ears. I looked over just as Jakob pulled into the parking space beside me. I should have known he’d be punctual. He cut his engine and stood from the bike, pulling off his helmet. Dressed in his King leathers, he looked as unapproachable and dangerous as he had in the bar last night.

Maybe this was a mistake.

He left his helmet on the bike seat, knowing no one would be stupid enough to steal it, and ambled over to my door. His sunglasses hid his eyes from me, and I had no idea if his gaze was still as warm as it had been this morning or if it had frosted over again.

“You gonna sit in there all day, or are we doing this?” he asked, voice muffled through the glass.

This was definitely a mistake.

I sighed and got out of the car. Jakob tugged off his motorcycle gloves as we headed toward the front door. He tucked them into the pocket of his jacket and reached out to thread his fingers through mine, playing the part of my boyfriend.

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