Page 31 of Whirlwind
“It’s me, buddy,” I say, and the yapping turns into an excited whimper. We’ve officially become pals. As I have with his pretty owner. When she opens the door, I scoop up the pup, then wrap Kit in a hug. “I missed you.”
“Oh,” she exclaims. We haven’t been huggers before this. It was an instinct, but since she doesn’t pull away, I don’t, either. “How can you miss me? We’ve been playingDestinytogether more nights than not.”
“Party chat isn’t the same.” I pull my arms back but don’t step away. “You look good.”
She looks down at herself before looking back at me, a skeptical grin on her face. She’s wearing purple shorts emblazoned with croissants and a bright yellow Pikachu tee, that I’d guess she’s had since she was much younger and less developed. Her chest strains under it, and I force my gaze not to linger.
Which is a testament to how much I respect her, because, holy fuck, she has great tits.
“I know that goon with Utah got a shitty hit on you, but they said it didn’t crack your bucket,” she says.
“It didn’t,” I say. “But I like that you checked up on me.”
“It’s what friends do. Besides, when I asked you about it, all you did was grunt.”
“Some guys like to be babied when they’re bruised up, I don’t.” I plop Nightmare on his bed that sits on the end of the sofa. He curls up after a few spins to find the right spot, but his eyes follow me. The past couple of times I’ve been over here, I’ve sat next to him, letting Kit have her space at the other end of the couch.
That’s not where I want to be tonight. I’d like to be closer. The conversation I had with Fane a while back has been heavy on my mind on this road trip. Every new interaction with Kit brings me closer to the truth, which is that I am interested in more than just friendship with her.
I physically ache to touch her. To press my lips to hers. To feel her skin against mine.
To sink into her and never fully back out.
Making any of my normal moves would send her running to hole up in the nearest cave, though, I’m sure of it. Getting women comfortable with my interest in them is as foreign to me as rocket science. It’s always just happened naturally, probably thanks to my chosen profession. Not to say I’m not charming and shit…because, of course I am.
Or I think I am.
No, no, I am. I’m sure I am. Right? I’m a fucking catch. My mom says I am.
Fucking hell, I’m losing my mind.
“Tyson?”
“What?” I shake my head to clear my thoughts and find Kit standing in front of me, peering at me with an odd expression.
“Are you sure you’re all right? They checked you for a concussion?”
“They checked, it’s all good.”
“So why are you standing in the middle of my living room, looking like you don’t know how you got here?” she asks.
“I walked across the street.”
“Yeah, I’m aware of that. Glad to hear you are, too,” she says, cocking her head. Her dark hair falls across her forehead. Tentatively, I tuck it behind her ear with a couple of gentle fingers.
“Maybe I’m just taken by your beauty.”
Her cheeks flush but she doesn’t look away or tense up.
“Are you high?”
“No,” I say after a burst of laughter. “Do you not know that you’re gorgeous?”
“I don’t know,” she says, shrugging. “I don’t think I’m ugly, but I’m odd.”
“You are not fucking odd.”
“I am, Tyson.”
