Page 36 of Kylo
Great.
He probably thought I was stalking him now or something. Especially being caught outside with the lookie-lous.
“Wait,” my grandmother said as Kylo raised a hand to wave at me. “That’stheKylo?YourKylo?”
I raised my hand to offer him what I hoped was an apologetic wave. If you could portray that emotion with a simple gesture.
“He’s notmyKylo,” I insisted.
“Oh, you did not do him justice,” my grandmother declared.
“He’s the handsomest of the bunch,” the book lady said.
“Don’t you dare disrespect my Dante like that,” the other woman said.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Go over and say hello,” my grandmother encouraged. “You’re being rude.”
“I’m pretty sure sitting here gawking at him and his friends is what is rude,” I told her.
“Oh, pish-tosh,” she said, waving off my concerns.
“Oh, he’s coming over here,” D-name lady said. “How’s my hair?”
“He only has eyes for Rue,” my grandmother, sounding thrilled, declared.
I tried not to notice how sexy his walk was. All long limbs and confidence.
My sex clenched involuntarily as I remembered my legs on the sides of his, his hard length pressed against me, his lips on my mouth, my neck, my breast.
“Rue,” he said, shooting me a lopsided smile as he got in front of our little group.
“Hey, Kylo,” I said, feeling awkward.
“And you must be Rue’s grandmother,” he said, zeroing in on her with no problem.
“How did you know?” I asked, brows pinched.
“You have the same eyes.”
My grandmother straightened up at that.
“My dear?” she prompted.
“Oh, right. Kylo, this is my grandmother, Claudia. Grammy, this is Kylo. My… friend.”
Ugh.
That hesitation was painful.
“Nice to meet you,” Kylo said, seeming genuine.
“And this is Loretta,” my grandma said, gesturing to the book lady. “And Barbie,” she added about the D-name lady. “And Katherine,” she said about the last woman who hadn’t said a word since I’d walked up. But I was pretty sure I spied that same steamy book in her purse at her feet. Along with her knitting.
“And please allow me to apologize for their behavior,” I said, shaking my head at them.
“Speak for yourself, my dear,” my grandmother said.
“Young man,” Barbie said, leaning forward. “Could you tell me the name of that handsome gentleman with the wheelbarrow?”
