Page 22 of When You Got a Good Thing (Misfit Inn 1)

Apparently satisfied with that, Xander nodded. With one last stroke of her hair, he stepped back. When she didn’t move, he reached past her to open the front door and nudged her inside. “Good night,” he said, and shut the door behind her.

~*~

If Xander’s brain hadn’t been completely scrambled, he might’ve remembered to get his coat back from Kennedy before he’d shoved her into the house. But it had taken every last shred of control he possessed to actually let her go instead of dragging her upstairs or to the barn or into the back of his Bronco or pretty much the nearest horizontal surface, so his coat—and the work keys in its pocket—were still with her. Which was his only excuse for showing back up at the Reynolds house an hour later, after a hurried shower and change of clothes. Well, and he already wanted to see her again.

It had felt like they were finally on the same page when he left her. But that might’ve been the kiss. Before she’d come back to the Ridge, he’d told himself it would be enough to apologize and be forgiven. But holding her in his arms again, knowing she was staying, just cemented what he hadn’t been willing to admit to himself for years—he wanted another chance.

He was going to have be careful with her. Chemistry and old habits aside, he still needed to win back her trust. He’d given some thought to that on the way home. Kennedy was as fragile as he’d ever seen her. She’d just lost her mother, and things were an absolute mess with her sisters. He wasn’t the kind of man to take advantage of that vulnerability. But he could make himself a fixture in her life again, remind her of how good they were together, and—in doing so—give her some much needed support so she didn’t feel like it was just her against the world.

Xander gave fleeting thought to trying his own luck with the old bodock tree and knocking on her window like the old days. After being up all night, she’d probably gone straight to bed. But doing so under the cover of darkness was one thing. Doing it in broad daylight, when any of her sisters could look out a window or go out to the barn for something was much harder to explain. So he gave a perfunctory knock instead and hoped for the best. He fought the urge to shift from foot to foot as he sifted through excuses.

Athena tugged open the door. One brow winged up. “Can I help you, Deputy?”

“Came for coffee.”

There went the other brow. “Do we look like a Starbucks?”

“Wanted to check on everybody, too.”

She pursed her lips in an I’m not buying your shit expression but stepped back and let him inside. “There’s a fresh pot on.”

Xander trailed her into the kitchen.

“You’re a little late. Our missing person finally turned back up.”

“Your what?” At the stove, Kennedy’s confused gaze shot from Athena back to him. The spatula in her hand clattered into the skillet. “Xander.” Color leapt into her cheeks.

“Kennedy.”

Something electric snapped between them and held. Xander shoved his hands into his pockets because he wanted to spin her around and pick right back up where they’d left off. At the table, Maggie looked from him to her sister and back, clearly trying to decide whether something needed to be said.

“Was she missing?” Xander asked.

“We weren’t sure. She left in something of a hurry last night, and we didn’t know if she’d come back,” Maggie said.

Kennedy bristled, snatching the spatula back up. “I promised I would.”

“You were upset and not thinking clearly. We were worried.”

“You were worried,” Athena retorted. “I just figured she’d bolt again.”

A muscle jumped in Kennedy’s jaw, but she said nothing, just turned back to the stove.

Pru wandered in. “I thought I saw your cruiser out there. Good morning, Xander.” She slid an arm around him in an easy hug.

“Morning.”

She eased back and gave him a long study. The back of his neck prickled. It was an I know what you’ve been up to look. He knew it well enough from his own mother and hadn’t thought he’d run into it here.

Athena gestured toward the counter. “You wanted coffee. There it is.”

Needing to do something, he went straight to the cabinet and pulled out a mug. Kennedy was now pointedly not staring at him, focused instead on whatever it was she was messing with on the stove.

“I don’t know why you’re cooking. We have enough casseroles to last us for days,” Athena said.

“Because I wanted something different,” Kennedy retorted, sliding the skillet under the broiler.

She sounded brittle and angry. So did Athena, but that was her default state. Xander felt sure that last night’s fight had originated with her. Still, tension stretched between all the sisters. He could feel it as he poured his coffee, see it in the hands Pru knotted together and the frown bowing Maggie’s lips.

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