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Authors: A. M. Hargrove

Kestrel (Hart Briothers #3) (9 page)

BOOK: Kestrel (Hart Briothers #3)
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She
allows me to lead her.

“So,
what are you doing out here all alone?”

She
sags against me. “It’s a long story.”

“I
have time.”

“I
met Ells’ father. We’re sort of friends. And we argued. Like we usually do.”

Her
body leans on mine, like the weight is too much to bear right now.

“Would
it be too nosy of me to ask what you argued about?”

“He
blames me for Ells’ death. It came up again.”

“He
blames you?”

She
stumbles on the uneven sidewalk and I catch her.

“Sorry,”
she says.

“It’s
okay. These sidewalks are tricky, I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah,
they are. Have you been on Chalmers Street yet?”

“No.”

“You
need to go. It’s pure cobblestones. Super tricky. Don’t go after you’ve had
more than a couple of drinks. Sprained ankle for sure.”

“I’ll
keep that in mind.” She’s diverting the conversation. “So Carter, why does he
blame you?”

“Simon
blames me for everything. Hell, I blame me too.”

We
are getting close to my carriage house so I make a quick decision. “Do you like
old movies?”

“I
guess.” Her voice is heavy as though she carries the weight of the world. I
suppose in some ways she does.

“Good.”

I
steer her toward my little place and she asks where I’m taking her. When I
unlock the door, I say, “Welcome to my temporary home.”

She
scans the place and says, “This is nice.”

“We’re
going to watch an old movie.”

“Okay.”
She eyes me warily. “Which movie?”

“The
original Star Wars.”

She
huffs, “That’s not old. I thought you would say, ‘Gone With The Wind’ or
something.”

“Carter,
I’m many things, but not a romantic. Sorry.”

“But
Star Wars isn’t even old.”

“Yes,
it is. It’s from the seventies. That’s old.”

“No!”
she insists, laughing. “Old is from like the forties or fifties.”

“Let’s
say we agree to disagree. Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’ll
have whatever you’re drinking.”

“Scotch?”


Ew
! No! Wine, please, if you have it.”

After
I fix our beverages, the movie starts playing and we sit on the sofa. She’s at
one end and I’m at the other. She chatters incessantly during the film about
R2D2, C3PO, Chewbacca, and Han Solo, until the second half when she is
completely silent. I glance at her and find she’s sound asleep. It’s almost one
in the morning, so I decide to let her stay here. My bed is a king, so there’s
room for us both and if she finds that offensive, I’ll deal with it in the
morning.

After
pulling the covers back, I carry her to the bed, take her shoes and glasses off,
and then cover her up. When I start to undress, I rethink it. It goes against
my better judgment for her to wake up to a naked man, so I hunt down some
boxers and a t-shirt and then get in bed. As I lay there, a couple of things
cross my mind. One, never has a woman shared my bed for the night. Two, she’s
making weird little snorting noises as she sleeps. If I weren’t so damn tired,
I’d get up and take a look at her. She’s an odd thing, Carter is. As I drift to
sleep, my thoughts are only of her.

 

Chapter
Seven

Carter

 

When
I wake up, a couple of things hit me. My face is smashed up against the back of
something hard. Not hard like concrete, but firm and slightly pliable as I
burrow more tightly against it. Then I notice the
smell
. Damn, it smells
delicious. I tuck my legs up against it and allow my mind to stray. This cocoon
I’m wrapped in is so pleasant; I don’t ever want to leave. Reality edges the
fog away and I open my eyes. The expanse of a man’s back faces me. Not just any
man. Kestrel. I spent the night with him. He must’ve put me to bed. When I try
to move, it becomes apparent that my arm is wrapped about his torso and he’s
holding on to it.

Then
I hear a chuckle that’s heavy with hoarseness often accompanied by early
morning. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah.
I guess I fell asleep during the movie?”

“Yep.”

“Thanks
for putting me to bed,” I murmur against his back.

“You’re
welcome.”

Damn
he smells good. Even the sheets smell like him. What the hell is that?

My
unfiltered mouth blurts, “What smells so good in here?”

“What
do you mean?”

He’s
surprised by my question.

I
sniff a little and say, “Everything smells good.”

Then
I hear his deep chuckle again. “Glad you approve.”

“Yeah,
so, this is a little awkward.”

“Hmm.
Just think how you would’ve felt if I had slept the way I normally do.”

That
puzzles me.

“What
do you mean by that?”

He
rolls over and one corner of his mouth is upturned. I almost catch my breath.
With eyes half-closed the man looks edible. Admittedly, I’ve never spent the
night with anyone. Lame, I know, but it’s the truth. Do all men look this good
in the morning? Is this what I’ve been missing?
Shitfire
!

“Think
about it, Carter.”

“Okay,
one thing about me, I don’t play games.”

“Neither
do
I. Hate them, in fact.”

“Then
…”

“You’re
incredibly naive. I usually sleep in the buff.”

My
mouth must’ve dropped open because first he laughs, and then he uses his finger
to push my chin back up.

After
I process the idea of him naked in bed with me, I say, “Yeah, way more than a
little awkward.”

“So,
if that would’ve been more than a little awkward, how do you think you would
manage doing
anything
I would ask of you?”

He
would have to bring
that
up, wouldn’t he?

“I’d
figure out a way.”

“Just
out of curiosity, because if this relationship moves in
that
direction,
how many men have you slept with?”

“I,
uh, well, uh, that’s really none of your business,” I stammer.

He
grabs my wrist and pulls me across him saying, “Oh, but it is. You see, if I
ever agree to
that
arrangement in full, I want to know exactly how
experienced you are.”

“B-but,
I thought you said you only wanted me for certain dates.”

“Maybe
I’ve changed my mind.”

For
a moment, I allow myself to assess him. That he gets his way with women is a
given. He’s perfect. Full mouth. High cheekbones that dip into those perfect
hollows right beneath them makes me want to touch his face. He has a couple of
day’s worth of scruff and I’d love to rub the back of my hand across it. I look
up to see chips of emeralds scrutinizing me.

“You
would do that?”

“How
many, Carter?”

Two
can play at this game. Though I’m inexperienced as hell, I decide to be a bit
bold. I crawl on top of him and straddle him. He pretends he’s not shocked, but
I see the slight widening of his lids and the dilation of his pupils. It’s gone
in a flash, but it
was
there.

In
the most seductive voice I can muster, which is probably goofy as all
heck
, I say, “I’ll tell you, if you tell me first.”

“Oh,
Carter, you’re playing with fire here.”

“Maybe,
but fire can be a good thing sometimes. It beats the hell out of ice.”

His
head tilts and then he suddenly yanks on my wrist. I tumble down and my face is
aligned with his. “You asked, but when I tell you, don’t say you weren’t
warned.”

“Okay.”
My voice comes out as a thready whisper.

“Dozens.”

“Dozens?”
I squeak.

“Dozens.”

“When
you say that, do you mean—?”

“I
mean even more than I can count, dear girl. Now, your turn.”

“Two,”
I squeak again. Shit. No wonder he has no interest in me. He wants a woman who
knows her way around a man. I hardly know my own way around myself.

His
teeth skim over his lower lip, but he utters not one peep as he inspects me. He
releases my wrist and his hand reaches behind my head and tugs my hair out of
my ever-present ponytail. Where is this going? Once my hair is freed, he
threads his hand in it, grasping a chunk of it as he pulls my head back.

His
voice comes to me as a murmur, as though he’s thinking out loud, when he says,
“Your hair is a most unusual color. It reminds me of the sun when it bursts
through the dawn, its golden rays mixed with streaks of oranges and reds. It’s quite
lovely, Carter. Why do you hide beneath all this frumpery?” He shakes his head.
“There’s a stunning creature concealed in here somewhere, begging to be
released. And if I’m correct, there’s may be a passionate one hidden here,
too.”

“Right.
I’m not passionate. I’m a nerd.”

“Only
because you choose to be.”

“No.
Even before. When I was in high school. And college. I was always a nerd. The
girl everyone made fun of.
Especially the guys.
That’s
how I got pregnant.”

He
changes in an instant. Gone is sexy Kestrel and in his place is Mr. Serious. But
his eyes have softened when he asks, “What do you mean?”

I
shrug. “In college. Thanksgiving break. We were all home and hanging out. I had
way too much to drink. The guys made a bet. I was unaware, obviously. Not to
mention, I was a virgin.
A good thing too, because I was
hammered.
So, I handed in my v-card, in exchange for an embryo. I didn’t
find out until the following semester. Talk about the shock of the century. I mean,
who the hell gets pregnant the first time they have sex, right? And I really
couldn’t remember all the finer details, if you know what I mean, other than
who the lucky guy was. My poor parents—they really struggled with it. I
felt terrible. I know it was such a disappointment to them. I was the kid that
never did anything bad. But I knew I couldn’t get rid of it or give her up. So
I ended up with Ells. And went to school. I had her in August and went to
classes the following week. I would go to my car to pump my breasts when I had
time between classes. Can you imagine? Gah, it was awful. Am I really telling
you all this?” I scrub my face with my palm.

“Yeah,
you are.”

For
whatever reason, embarrassment plows into me like a freaking tidal wave. I move
to jump up, but I’m locked in by the steel band of his arm.

“Where
are you going?”

I
look around frantically.
Anywhere, but at him.

“What’s
wrong?”

I
collapse on top of him and bury my head against him. “I’ve just told you shit
I’ve never told anyone else. And now I’m appalled.”

“Why?”

“Why?
Because! That’s why.”

Jeez.
Where did the diarrhea of the mouth come from?

“Sometimes
it helps to talk about it.”

“Oh,
and how would you know that?”

“I
have a lot of history with issues, you might say.”


Hmph
. Well, I’m ashamed of what I just told you. Those are
my deepest secrets and it’s humiliating. I can’t believe I told you all of
that.”


Never
say you’re ashamed. Some bastard took advantage of you. He’s the one who should
be ashamed.”

He’s
so adamant; I lift my head so I can peer at him. That’s odd hearing it from
him. But I’ll take it when I can get it.

“Tell
me you get this,” he says.

“Yeah.
Okay.”

“So,
what do you want to do today?”

“Huh?”
Does he think we’re spending the day together?

“Carter,
do you need to have your hearing checked? I asked what you want to do today.
We’re having a Carter/Kestrel get to know each other day.”

“Oh.”

Then
he slaps my butt.

“I
have a great idea. Why don’t I take you shopping?”

“Nope.
Bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Two
reasons.
One, no money.
And two, I hate shopping.”

“Hmm.
I see. What size are you?”

He’s
so nosy.

“That’s
a very personal question.”

“I’m
a very personal guy.”

“I
don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve shopped, I have no idea.”

“Why
don’t you hop in the shower and I’ll put some coffee on.”

“I
have a better idea. Why don’t I go home and take a shower and you can pick me
up in an hour.”

“No.”
He still won’t let me out of bed.

“No?”

“Let’s
shower together.”

“What?
Are you crazy?”

“Gotcha!”
Then his hands are all over my ass, fondling it.

“What
the hell are you doing?”

“I
think I’m going to like hanging out with you, Carter Drayton.” Then he smacks
my butt again and says, “Go home and get
yourself
cleaned up. Oh, and wear something decent, for Christ’s sake.”

I’m
frozen for a second, staring at him and then I scramble out of bed. As soon as
my shoes are on I head to the door but then I realize I don’t remember where he
lives.

“Where
am I?”

He
laughs at me. “Hang on for a few. It’ll only take me about fifteen minutes to
shower and dress. I’ll drive you.”

“You
sure?”

“Carter,
one thing you need to know about me right now. I never offer something if I’m
not interested.”

“Okay.”

He
stares at me. Finally he says, “You gonna stand there and watch me undress or
you gonna give me some privacy? I really don’t mind, but I think you might get
a little embarrassed.”

He
doesn’t have to tell me twice. I hightail it out of his room. For the few
minutes I’m alone, I have time to think about Kestrel. He doesn’t seem like a
bad person at all. In fact, he’s quite the opposite, and I find myself warming
up to him. But in the end, will I get hurt when he eventually wants to
dismantle Ells’ room? It has to happen. I’m not stupid. How will a single man
keep a room like that in his house? Maybe I can wean myself off of it. Start
out visiting it once a week, then every other week and so forth. Then when he
decides to demolish it all, it won’t be so earth shattering for me.

“Deep
thoughts?” he interrupts me.

“Not
really. That was fast.”

“Yes.
I’m that way for some things, but not all,” he says with a wink. I don’t get
it. It must show because he adds, “I can see I’m going to have to teach you a
lot, grasshopper.”

“What,
are you a Kung Fu master or something.”

“So,
in Wiki, is your picture next to naive?”

Jesus,
I really do need a sexual innuendo dictionary. I’m pathetic.

“Very
funny.”

We
climb into his sports car. I was raised around the affluent in Charleston and
have been in many expensive cars, but none like this. The doors lift up, in a
wing-like fashion, to open.

“So
this car. Like what’s an
Aventador
?” I’m not into
cars so I don’t know jack about them.

“A
Lamborghini.”

“Ah.
The kahuna of all super cars.” Leather seats wrap around me, hugging me. And
the luscious smell is divine.

“Some
would agree. Others wouldn’t.”

“Obviously
you do or you wouldn’t own one.”

He
grins. “Yes, I do. She’s prime.”

He
presses a button and the engine roars, literally, to life. The rumbling of it
sends a thrill down my spine. The streets of Charleston won’t do this car any
justice at all.

“I
have a feeling you get itchy when you drive this thing.”

“Your
feeling is correct. Any good places you know of where I can open her up?”

“Yeah,
I think I can come up with a few. But we have to drive a ways out of town.”

BOOK: Kestrel (Hart Briothers #3)
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