not the type. My relationships don’t last.”
“That’s because you leave the women before they can leave you.”
“What am I supposed to do about it? Stay, and let them leave me?”
“How about trusting they might want to stay?”
Kyle put down the roller and stared at his brother. They were about the same height, with the same dark hair and eyes. Travis was four years older. His marriage had softened his hard edges and made him a happy man.
“What if they don’t stay?” Kyle asked.
Travis’s smile faded. “What if they do? It seems to me you’re already changing things.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’re here.” He moved his arm out to indicate the room, then the house beyond. “You’ve never involved your family with one of your women before.”
“Sandy’s not one of my women. She’s—”
Travis waited, his eyebrows raised.
“Forget it,” Kyle mumbled and turned back to the painting. He concentrated on moving the roller down the narrow strip of wall between the closet and the corner. “Don’t you have work to do?” he asked.
“Not really. We’re taking a break until the deli delivers the sandwiches. You could come down and join us. Or you could continue to hide up here.”
Kyle grunted. “I’ll be down when I’m done.”
“Sure.” Travis started out the door.
“And I’m not hiding,” he called.
Travis laughed.
* * *
Kyle knew he hadn’t been hiding, but Sandy was still sure avoiding him. All through lunch, she sat at the far end of the living room. Sunlight streamed through the bare windows. Someone had swept the hardwood floor, then mopped it until it gleamed. With no furniture in the large house, they’d each pulled up a piece of floor when the meal had arrived. Nichole had passed out sodas, then taken a seat near Austin. The gray-eyed pirate always had a way with the ladies, Kyle thought, watching Nichole charm the quiet man. Mercifully, Lindsay had stayed near her mother. Instead, it had been Blake who’d sat near Kyle. The boy hadn’t said anything, despite Kyle’s attempt to bring him into the conversation. In the end, Kyle had given up and instead, had watched Sandy not look at him.
He studied her, trying to figure out what it was exactly that got to him. In denim shorts and a red tank shirt, she was hardly dressing to be seductive. If he took her features apart, there wasn’t anything special about her. Wide green eyes drew his gaze. He liked the way she wore mascara and no other makeup. Her nose was straight, her mouth turned up slightly at the corners, her chin was pointed, but not too pointed. Her body was well proportioned for her height, her breasts neither too large nor too small, her hips rounded, but not obvious. So why did she drive him crazy? Was it hormonal? Was it the result of too much reminiscing and not enough sleep?
Austin stood and stretched. “Back to work, everyone. We should be able to finish the painting today if we get going now.”
Sandy scrambled to her feet. “I’ll clean up,” she said.
“I’ll help.” Kyle grabbed the wrapping from his sandwich, then picked up Blake’s. The boy gave him a quick smile. The curve of the child’s lips and flash of white teeth reminded him of Sandy. For a moment, he stared at the boy, wondering what it must be like to have a child of one’s own. A fierce longing swept through him, shocking him with its intensity. He shook his head slightly, then continued to collect trash.
Everyone stood up and slowly left the room. At last, he and Sandy were alone.
“I can handle this,” she said, not looking at him.
“I don’t mind helping.”
“I don’t want to keep you from your painting.”
“Are you afraid I’m not working hard enough?” he teased.
She’d bent over to pick up Nichole’s half-eaten sandwich. Now she turned her head and looked at him. Her loose, shoulder-length hair shielded part of her face. “Not at all. I know everyone is doing a lot for me, and I really appreciate it.” She tucked her hair behind her ear as she straightened. “We all do.”
“I know.” He walked toward her. “I was just kidding. I’ll help you clean up here, then I’ll go back upstairs and paint. Fair enough?”
She nodded. He wanted to think she was staring at his mouth, but he figured it was just wishful thinking on his part. No doubt about it, the lady turned him on. Unfortunately, he doubted his feelings were returned.
She continued to stare at him, then flushed slightly and looked away as if she’d just realized what she was doing. He watched the color climb up her cheeks to her hairline. The house was quiet, despite the number of people inside. He couldn’t hear anything except his heart pounding in his chest and the faint whisper of Sandy’s rapid breathing. At least he told himself it was rapid.
She twisted her fingers together. A paper napkin drifted from the trash she held and fluttered to the ground. He bent and grabbed it, then thrust it toward her. His fingers brushed her arm. She jumped.
“Kyle, I don’t think—”
“Good,” he said, cutting her off. “I know you’re upset about last night.”
She swallowed and stared at the center of his chest. “Last night should never have happened.”
“Which part? The pizza? You and your kids eating at my house? Or what happened later?”
“What happened later.”
Her voice was soft and low. He had to lean forward to hear her. She continued to stare at his chest. He wondered if she was afraid to look him in the eye because of what she would see or because of what she would reveal? He wanted it to be the latter.
“What exactly did happen?” he asked, deliberately taunting her.
She raised her gaze. He saw something hungry flash through her eyes, then she blinked and it was gone. “Nothing. Nothing at all. And I want to make sure nothing happens again.”
Nothing except he’d almost kissed her and she’d almost let him. She wanted to make sure it happened again? Did she mean nothing or did she mean the kiss? “Are you sure?” he asked and moved closer.
“Yes.” Her voice was a mere whisper. She trembled.
He touched her bare arm, just above the elbow. She pulled back. “I mean it, Kyle. I don’t want there to be anything between us. I’m not interested.”
He’d once played football with a sprained ankle and never let on until the game was over. He’d been cut pretty bad breaking up a fight and had finished his shift before going to the hospital. He’d been dumped once, a long time ago in college, and never told a soul. So it wasn’t hard to continue
