Page 20 of When You Got a Good Thing (Misfit Inn 1)

“Not much warmer in here,” she said, realizing she was cold now that he wasn’t touching her.

“It will be. Come here.” Xander hauled her across the seat until her back was pressed to his chest, then flipped the blanket over them both.

It was an old, familiar gesture, one she should’ve resisted, for both their sakes. But she was so, so tired of being alone. If this was the only comfort she’d get, she would take it and be grateful. Relaxing against him, Kennedy willed herself not to give in to the urge to turn her face and rub it against his chest like a cat.

Xander’s arms slid around her waist, as they had a hundred times before. How long had it been since someone had held her? Other than Flynn, had she trusted anyone enough for this? Just this simple touch. With a long sigh, Kennedy lay her head back against Xander’s shoulder, feeling more content than she had any right to. But here was what she’d needed since her mother’s death. What she’d needed for more years than she cared to admit. More than being home, more than being with her sisters, Xander had always been her safe place.

“Better?”

“Yeah.” She wrapped her arms over his and let herself have the illusion that this wasn’t just for tonight.

“Tell me about your travels. How did you manage it without having savings built up?” The warmth of his breath stirred her hair.

“Do you really want to hear about this? About what I’ve done since I left here?”

“After you left, I haunted the house, constantly stopping by, helping out. At first it was because I thought you’d turn up, and I wanted to be there when that happened. Then it was just hoping to catch any scrap of news about where you were or what you were doing. So yeah, I want to hear.”

God, that hurt her heart to think about. But she did as he asked because it seemed a safer topic than some of the alternatives. “I took about a million odd jobs. Seasonal work. Trail guide. Tour guide. Ski instructor. House-sitted quite a bit professionally, so I didn’t have to pay for lodging a lot of the time.”

“That’s a thing?”

“It is. I also bartended a lot. Waited tables. Worked as a hotel maid several times. Whatever came up. When nothing came up, I got really good at busking. Sang for my supper on more than one occasion.”

“You’ve still got killer pipes. Joan would’ve liked that you sang.”

Kennedy’s throat went thick. “I don’t want to talk about Mom,” she whispered.

“Okay.” He rested his cheek against her hair, and that, too, was familiar. “Then tell me where all you went.”

So she did. Cuddled up in the cab of his ancient Bronco, Kennedy took him around the world to all the places she wished he could’ve been with her to see. She got drowsy wrapped in their little cocoon, but every time she stopped talking, he’d ask more questions. No matter how late it got, she didn’t want to break the truce or spell or whatever it was that was holding the pain and grief at bay, so she answered, telling him story after story.

“Out of everywhere you’ve been, which place was your favorite?”

Kennedy didn’t even have to think. “Ireland. It’s the only country I kept going back to.”

“Why’s that?”

“I love it there. And I’ve got some good friends. I even, briefly, had a sort of music career, touring for a while.”

“Really?” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“Really.” She told him about Flynn and his merry band of gypsy musicians.

“So you and he…?” Xander’s tone was casual. Deceptively so.

The idea that he was jealous gave Kennedy far too much satisfaction. She snorted a laugh. “Flynn Bohannon is the closest I’ve ever had to a brother, and that includes all of my assorted foster brothers.”

“So he’s family.”

“He is.” She sobered. “You could just ask.”

“Ask what?”

“If I moved on.”

“Did you?”

“I wasn’t in any one place long enough to get serious with anybody.” She could blame it on her mobility, but there simply hadn’t been anyone who’d made her feel even a tenth of what she’d felt for Xander. What she still felt for him.

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