Too Close to Resist (17 page)

How had it become the opposite? What had unwarped and untwisted in his brain and heart for him to wish the noise back? The conversations, the prodding.

Footsteps sounded on the back stairwell. Voices drifted into the kitchen, then silenced as the back door opened and closed.

Kyle chewed on the last of his sandwich. He didn’t have to be alone. Not if he didn’t want to be. Despite his best efforts, there were people who cared about him, if he was brave enough to let them.

Kyle jogged upstairs, grabbed his wallet and keys.

He had flowers to buy.

* * *

G
RACE
STEPPED
INTO
her room at MC and sighed in relief. Somehow, this little green-and-purple Victorian room now felt more like home than anything else.

Probably because her house in Carvelle was a bunch of blackened boards now. She wasn’t going to think about that. Not until the insurance company made her.

It was nice to have a bit of work to keep her mind off the whole thing. Meeting the Martins had been nerve-racking and downright strange, but Kelly had coached and prompted her enough that she’d made the best of it.

She’d sold two more paintings, and now had a commission for the third.

Grace took a deep breath and smiled. Getting back up. Soaking up the good. She would keep doing it, keep doing it, keep doing it. What other choice was there?

Professionally, she was better off than she’d ever been. So it stood to reason that personally she was kind of a mess.

After a weekend away, her anger at Kyle had turned inward, and she flip-flopped back and forth trying to decide if she’d overreacted. If it had been the adrenaline of seeing Barry where he wasn’t that had fueled her “walk away” reaction.

But he’d lied.

But he’d been trying to protect her.

But she didn’t want to be protected.

Except part of her did.

Grace flopped face-first on her bed and screamed into the pillow. She knew how unfair life could be. Had seen some pretty low lows in unfairness. So why was something this minuscule in the face of true misery so difficult to deal with?

Grace’s phone went off and she dug it out of her pocket. A text from Leah.
We need you in the kitchen.

Grace let out a breath.
We.
Her mind stupidly jumped to the conclusion that
we
might include Kyle. Leah and Kyle weren’t exactly hanging out after business hours, unless maybe it had something to do with the party on Friday.

Uncertain and idiotically nervous, Grace moved out of her room and down the back stairwell. When she stepped into the kitchen she was met with candlelight.

And Kyle.

Her heart flipped.

“Hi,” he offered, standing next to a fully set kitchen table, two plates full of some kind of pasta. A bouquet of tulips in a vase in the middle.

“Hi. Leah texted me...”

“I know. I thought perhaps you might not come down if I asked you, so I employed a little help.”

“You... This is for me?”

He nodded.

Grace didn’t know what to do with her hands, or with herself for that matter. She couldn’t find all the right parts of her brain to figure out what this meant.

“I wanted to apologize for what happened last week.”

“This is an apology?” A dinner with candlelight and flowers. This stuff happened in movies and in books and to people way more sophisticated than her. This did not happen in Carvelle or Bluff City, Iowa. It just...didn’t.

“No, this is a romantic gesture so that you allow me to offer you an apology.”

“Oh.”

“Sit down?” He gestured to a chair. “Even if you end up not accepting the apology, the meal is still for you.”

“Oh.” Could she be any lamer? With halting steps she moved toward the chair, and not at all steady, lowered herself into it. Dinner smelled like heaven. “Spaghetti and meatballs. That’s my favorite.”

“I asked around,” he said simply. He stood in front of her, studying her face until he sighed. “Grace, I’m sorry I lied to you. It was the wrong choice.”

When she didn’t say anything, he faltered a little bit, but then pressed on. “It will be my first instinct to try to protect you. To keep you safe. No matter what outside factors apply, your being safe and happy will always be my priority.” He pushed out a breath. “And that’s what I thought I was doing, keeping you from something that would have bothered you. I see now that it’s not the same.”

It was the perfect apology. Truly perfect. Impeccable word choice, flawlessly earnest delivery, plenty of eye contact. Not a “but” in sight.

If she had any sense in her head, she’d jump into his arms and take him to a room with a locking door and let dinner get very, very cold.

Instead she felt silly and inadequate in the face of his perfect words and perfect apology.

“You know, it really doesn’t seem fair you can apologize off the cuff like that. I’ve been thinking about how to apologize and I really just don’t know how.” Grace fiddled with the napkin on the table before sneaking a glance at him.

His eyebrows drew together, mouth quirking to the side. “What would you have to apologize for?”

Grace looked at her plate. The food he’d prepared or bought, it really didn’t matter. “I don’t know. Maybe I overreacted. I was all hopped up on freaking out over yet another Barry moment of fear. And I’ve never really done this before. I mean, I went on a few dates with Barry when I was twenty-three. And then I kind of didn’t do that. At all.” Grace dared to look up; Kyle’s expression was still confused. Which meant she had to keep explaining all the weird things she wasn’t sure she understood herself.

His perfect words ringing over and over in her head. Why couldn’t she have a practiced speech?

“It’s just...all I have are these kind of immature relationships to go off, and I’m not sure what the right moves to make are. Then add at least half my brain space is being taken up by worry and trying to be brave. I...I just think I might have screwed up, too.” Grace looked back down at the plate. This was not going well.

“So...just so that we’re moving forward on the same page. This thing between us is a mature relationship?”

“Well, what else would it be?” She glared up at him. Mr. Perfect should be making this easier, not harder.

“I don’t know.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Maybe just a distraction.”

The laugh bubbled up over the self-pity and irritation and uncertainty. “Oh, honey, if I wanted a distraction, you’d be, like, the worst choice. Unless by distraction you mean so busy trying to loosen you up and figure you out that I don’t have time to worry about my own problems.”

“I’m not really sure how to take that.” He pulled a chair over, sat so they were just a few inches from face-to-face, just a few centimeters from knee to knee.

She wanted to reach out and touch him but wasn’t sure if they were on even ground yet. “It’s a compliment. You’re not a distraction. You’re very important to me.”

“Good. You’re very important to me, too.”

“Good.”

Silence settled. Awkward. Grace tried to come up with a million things to say other than a desperate “I love you” she wasn’t altogether sure about. Did she love him? Maybe. But what if she was wrong? She’d never been in love before.

All she knew was she liked him. She was attracted to him, both physically and because of the man he was, what he’d overcome. He complemented her. She complemented him. There had been a sense of rightness in being with Kyle.

Was that love?

Kyle’s hands took hers, gently, as if he would let her pull them away if she wanted. No, she didn’t want to. Not at all.

“I just want us to be an ‘us,’ and for us to be okay.”

And that was what she wanted, too. She leaned forward, keeping her hands in his as she pressed a kiss to his lips. “I want that, too.” She kissed him again. “No more lying, and we will be.”

He nodded, a slow smile curving his lips. “Good.”

Good. Yes, it was. And yes, it would be.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

G
RACE
STARED
AT
the computer, her finger hovering above the mouse, the arrow sitting on Send. Intimidating.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, the art gallery seeking a receptionist could laugh at her sad little résumé. Of course, since she was sending it via email she’d never know that. Really, the worst that could happen was they never called her for an interview. Surely she could survive that.

So she clicked Send, and promptly felt sick and wished it back.

“Grace?”

She jumped in the chair of Jacob’s desk, looking guiltily at Kyle standing in the doorway. “Oh, hey.”

“What are you up to?”

She waved him away, clicking out of her email. “Just random stuff. Um, job hunting, I guess. You know, almost anything is better than going back to Cabby’s.”

“So you’re looking at...jobs in Bluff City?”

He still stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Maybe they were both pretending. Him pretending not to be fishing. Her pretending not to be intimidated by making life choices that were different than she’d anticipated. That might end in failure.

“Yes.” She forced herself out of the chair and across the room. “I mean, who knows how long I’ll be here with the house issues, and Barry, and...everything. And when I do have to go back to Carvelle... Well, it’s only twenty minutes away.”

“Right. Of course.” That tense smile. Uncomfortable robot Kyle.

Oh, what was he thinking in that complicated brain of his?

He cleared his throat, focused on her face. “I do like you being here,” he said carefully, the robot melting off him even if his discomfort didn’t.

Yeesh. He really could say the sweetest things. “I like being here, too.”

“Good.” Then he took her hand, tugged. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going? I was hoping we could make out in Jacob’s office.”

He shook his head, pulling her into the hall. “That would be a no.”

“Fun hater.”

He led her down the hallway to the attic door. Grace had never been up there. She hadn’t ever seen anyone go up there. She only knew it was the attic because she’d once asked Jacob where the door led.

“Can I ask why you’re taking me up to the attic?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m not sure I like attic surprises.” But she followed him up the short staircase. Late-afternoon sunlight poured in through a series of octagon windows along the far wall. The floor was paneled in whitewashed wood, but on the window side a huge drop cloth covered the ground. The walls were filled in and painted a creamy white, and lights hung from the rafters.

Then she noticed her easel was set up. And there was a long table with all her paints and supplies. A chair. Plants. One of her paintings hung along the nonwindowed wall.

She could barely force the words out of her tight throat. “What’s all this?”

“A gift.”

She blinked. It was like a studio. A much nicer version of her basement, or what had been her basement, back in Carvelle. Better lighting, prettier surroundings, not burned to the ground. “A gift?”

“Jacob brought up that it may be a while before you can rebuild your house, if that’s what you decide to do. And we all wanted to make sure you’d feel comfortable staying here. For as long as you wish.”

“All of you?”

“Yes, Leah wired special lights.” He pointed at the ceiling. “Jacob moved all your stuff and did the floor and walls. Kelly and Susan decorated, obviously. Henry’s working on getting a sink up here, though it’s not done yet.”

“You all...” Grace swallowed, looking around the little studio they’d built her. As if she belonged here. With them. God, could that really be possible?

She turned to Kyle. He was still standing by the stairs, hands in his pockets, a smile on his face. Pleased that she was pleased.

“And it was your idea.” He’d mentioned everyone else, but she knew. This had to have come from him.

“Well, we all contributed.”

“It was your idea. You brought me up here alone because it was your idea.”

“I... Yes.” He gave a little nod of admission. “I suppose I came up with the idea, and they might have made me show it to you alone. Apparently they didn’t trust you not to shower me with kisses of gratitude. Which I wouldn’t mind, by the way.”

She walked over and threw her arms around his neck because this—this was amazing. As if he hadn’t already done so many things for her, this... The words
I love you
were on the tip of her tongue, the feeling so big and huge she could barely contain it.

But she didn’t know if he was ready to hear it. Ready to believe it, not when he so easily resisted the credit he deserved. So she pulled back, keeping her arms around his neck, looking him right in the eye, and swallowed. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

His hand moved down her back, a gesture of intimacy, but then he shrugged. “It’s just a little thing.”

“It’s a huge thing. A monumental thing.” She kissed his nose and released him, turning to the studio again because she couldn’t resist. This was hers. They’d made it for her. Her fingers itched to paint. Right now, with the late afternoon making everything glow orange.

She turned to Kyle. “You know what? I want to paint you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Me? Now?”

“Yes, you. Remember, I said you’d be a good subject. I wasn’t lying. Or trying to get in your pants. At least, I wasn’t only trying to get in your pants.”

“Grace.”

“I don’t do many faces, but I need to expand my repertoire. So grab that chair, move it next to the plant and sit.”

“You have sketched me before.”

“That was just a caricature. This will be a real painting.” She pointed at the chair, gave him her best menacing look. “Butt in chair. Now.”

“And I don’t suppose telling you I have work to do is going to deter you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

He pressed his lips together, but it wasn’t an expression of irritation. More like trying not to smile. She really liked that she could make him smile, laugh. He needed to do it. Far more often.

Well, she’d get right on that.

“I am staying one hundred percent clothed during the painting portion of the evening,” he announced, settling himself on the little blue armchair in the corner of the studio space.

She burst out laughing, so unexpected was the joke, told with a straight face. Loved him. She really, really did. “Aw, come on, just lose the shirt?”

“Not on your life.”

“You know, I might have shirtless you memorized. I’ll just add it in on my own.”

“You had better not.”

She went to collect her paints, but she got sidetracked because he was sitting on the chair. He was going to pose for her. He’d come up with this place for her. This was...important. And she couldn’t let him joke that way, no matter how much she loved to see him joke.

She stood before him. Even if she didn’t think he was ready to hear words of love yet, maybe she could ease him there. With the truth he seemed so reluctant to see. “You are such a good man, Kyle Clark.”

His expression, the set to his shoulders, it all changed. Tensed. Hardened. “I wouldn’t go that far.” His gaze went somewhere beyond her and all the ease left him.

It reminded her of the night she’d called him her knight in shining armor and he’d said that was the last thing he was. Could he really not see himself clearly? All that he’d done for her? The way all his little gestures added up to this beautiful canvas of small but amazingly important deeds?

She slid onto his lap, touched his face. “You are so good, and someday you’re going to have to accept that.” Before he could argue, she pressed her mouth to his, let all that love she felt pour into the kiss. Into him.

She’d make him accept it. Believe it. And maybe, just maybe, love could give them what they both needed.

* * *

K
YLE
HAD
NEVER
been so happy to get to a Friday before in his life. Never looked forward to a weekend where he didn’t have to think about work.

He smiled a little to himself. Get through tonight’s party and he had forty-eight uninterrupted hours to spend with Grace.

Life certainly could change in an instant.

Kyle finished the month’s schedule, hit Print, then looked at his rarely used personal calendar. Maybe he could actually work out a day or two to take off later in the month. Surely the police had to find Barry soon, and once Barry was locked away maybe he and Grace could go somewhere. Take a short little vacation where they could both relax and not have to worry about interruptions or security alarms.

Kyle laughed at himself. At this rate, Grace was going to kick him to the curb for being
too
needy.

As he glanced at the calendar on the screen, his laughter stopped, died along with any lighthearted happiness he was feeling.

Under May 20, in the computer’s tiny font, were the words he dreaded every few years.

Dad’s release.

Kyle kept meticulous check, because he’d grown tired of Dad showing up at his door unannounced. Now he knew ahead of time. About two days after release, Dad would show up at MC, pretend they were old buddies and ask for money.

Kyle had tried to be out of town in the past, but Dad always came back. So instead, he kept track, made sure Jacob was busy or out of town, then tried to find a way not to be sucked into the trap.

But it went down the same way each time. Dad showed up, pretended they had a relationship not based on violence and hate for about five seconds, before reminiscing about his son holding a gun to his head. He poked and prodded until Kyle threw a punch, years of control out the window with a few nasty comments.

In the aftermath of a bloody fight, Kyle forked over whatever money he could spare and sent Dad on his way. Some mix of guilt for knowing he’d almost killed him once, knowing this man brought out the monster in him and the disgusting hope Dad would use the money to buy and overdose on some drugs, or at the very least land himself back in jail.

Kyle’s stomach turned in slow, nauseated rolls. He x-ed out of the calendar.

He couldn’t let Grace see that part of himself. He couldn’t. He would have to find a way to fix it. Make it not happen. Sure, he’d been trying for ten years to defuse the bomb that was his father, but now he had a real reason. Grace. He had to find a way to keep Dad out of the picture, to keep the bad away from all the good he’d found.

Still two weeks before he had to worry about that. He’d figure something out. Some way to keep Grace away. To keep the violence away. To—

The knock on the door caused him to jump in his chair. He couldn’t find his voice, but Grace pushed in without waiting for a “come in” anyway.

“I’ve got something for you.” She smiled brightly, paint splotches over her hands and shirt. She held up the painting to one wall, then another. “You get a Grace McKnight original. Free of charge. I was going to put it up for sale, but it reminded me too much of you.”

The painting in her hands was small compared to most of the other ones he’d seen of hers. Not much bigger than a piece of paper. It was almost a perfect representation of the view from the top of the bluff they had hiked up. Before the fire. Before they were them.

Before she’d wiggled her way into his heart so deep he’d do just about anything to keep her there. Including believing he could find a way to circumnavigate his father this time. Believing he could hide the violent part of himself away from Grace, because if she ever saw it...

He couldn’t even let himself think what might happen, what kind of person that would make him.

“It’s lovely,” he managed, though his voice wasn’t steady.

She rested the painting in front of some accounting books on his shelf. Backed away. Then she slid onto his lap and studied her painting, as if that was the most normal thing to do. “There. Move some of those books and keep it on the shelf like that. A little lesson Kelly taught me on giving a bookshelf dimension.” She kissed his nose, and he held on. Held on to that one good thing.

He had to find a way to head Dad off at the pass. He wasn’t coming to MC this time. Not with Grace around. Kyle would figure something out. Figure some way out of who he was, who his father could still make him be.

“You okay?”

He knew he was holding on to her just a hair too tight, but she felt good and right and he didn’t want to lose that right now. So he nodded against her shoulder while the voice in his brain he wanted to silence whispered a question he wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on.

How many times would the answer to that question be a lie? When they’d already agreed no more lying?

“Stressed about the party, aren’t you?” She popped off his lap to stand behind him and rub his shoulders, rubbing the guilt in deeper with each massage.

“You know what you need?”

“I was thinking about going for a run, actually.”

“I have a better idea. We’ll call it a different form of cardiovascular activity.” Her hands traveled past his shoulder, inching down across his abs until he huffed out a laugh.

“The door is open.” And he didn’t deserve this. Or her. Not with his father’s reappearance looming.

You will handle it. You will absolutely handle it. Because Grace is yours.

“I can close it,” she whispered in his ear.

He wanted to find humor, to believe he was in control, so he pulled her into his lap. She smiled at him. Beautiful. Happy. Perfect.

“I’m going to do whatever it takes to protect you.” It slipped out. A misstep. She was frowning now and he’d ruined it all. Which seemed about right.

The threat of his father ruined everything.

“I don’t need you to protect me.” She rubbed her palm against his chin, frowning. “I just need you to be you.” She framed his face with her hands. “What’s bothering you, honey?”

Honey.
No one had ever called him that, called him any kind of endearment before. It was wrong to break his promise. Wrong to keep a secret, to lie, but this one was important. Imperative.