Fakers (21 page)

From across the street, Mrs. Harrison came
out of her house and crossed the road. It was clear she’d seen Kyra
in her garden and wanted to talk, but Kyra seriously considered
turning around and hiding inside her house. Instead, she sighed and
stood her ground.

“Hello, Mrs. Harrison,” she called, not
bothering to sound welcoming. She knew what the old lady
wanted.

“Kyra.” Mrs. Harrison drew out her name like
it was a reprimand. “I’m glad to see you finally got around to
fixing your garden.” She paused as she came to a stop on the other
side of Kyra’s newly exposed fence. “After our garden club
pictures, I might add.”

“I had to wait until the construction crew
finished all their repairs to the outside.” She flashed an overly
sweet smile.

Mrs. Harrison clucked her tongue, not
believing Kyra for one second, even though it was technically the
truth. “Well, I came over to ask about dear Stephanie. How is she
doing after her…
accident
?”

Kyra’s eyes narrowed, and all the fear and
anger she’d felt since yesterday surged back. “She’s doing
well.”

“That’s good to hear. But of course, if you
play with fire, you’re going to get burned. And all that drinking
and boozing she does is playing with fire.”

“Excuse me?” Kyra sputtered.

“Looking good, Mrs. Harrison,” Hale called
from behind Kyra. He put his hand around her waist, and to her ear,
he said, “Calm down. It’s okay.”

“Mr. Cooper,” the older woman drawled, her
eyes settling on his hand on Kyra.

“It’s awfully hot out here today,” he said.
“You better get inside and get cooled off. You don’t want to have a
stroke or something.”

Kyra snorted as Mrs. Harrison’s eyes
threatened to bulge out of her head. Hale didn’t wait for her
response. He pulled Kyra inside and slammed the front door
shut.

“I thought you wanted me to be more honest
about how I feel? I was about to give her a piece of my mind,” she
said, taking a deep breath to calm down.

“I do, but I don’t want you to give Mrs.
Harrison a heart attack if you say she’s not worth being crapped
out of a dog’s ass.”

“Okay, fair point.”

“Garden looks good though. I can order some
mulch and topsoil for you. You can pick out the flowers you want to
add in.” Hale thought for a moment before he went on. “I could even
build you some window boxes if you’re nice to me. It would help
brighten up the porch if you added some plants up here too.”

“Will you do all the planting and mulching
as part of the job?” she asked hopefully.

He let out a bark of laughter and clapped
her on the shoulder. “You’re funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” she said, mumbling
the words under her breath.

“The kitchen should be done soon.” He went
on as if he didn’t hear her. “You could cook tonight if you
want.”

“Are you inviting yourself over?” Kyra
cocked a brow at him. Only now did she notice the sheen of sweat
making his thin, worn shirt cling to his chest. He smelled of musk
and man, and it was enough to have her insides tightening. He
noticed her staring; he leaned in and ran his hand down her
backside.

“Yeah, I am. Is that a problem?”

“No.” She let out a whoosh of air when his
fingers found the bare back of her thigh. He hooked a finger
underneath the hem of her shorts.

“Good.” Blushing, she looked around to make
sure none of the crew had seen before she hurried inside to
shower.

twenty

A
unt Carol, for the
millionth time, everything is okay. I promise.” Kyra shifted the
groceries in her hand and unlocked her front door.

“I’m just concerned about the people you’re
hanging around with these days.” Aunt Carol sniffed. She’d been
calling incessantly all day, so Kyra had finally answered. She
regretted it now.

“They are good people.”

The crew was gone and the house was mostly
silent. From the back of the house, she heard the sounds of the
shower running. She froze by the stairs, bags in hand, as her heart
started to hammer.

“You call them good people, but one got
arrested and another is in the hospital for drunk driving?”

“Aunt Carol, I gotta go.” Kyra hung up, her
eyes darting around for any sign of a break-in.

But Hale’s tool belt lay beside the entry to
the kitchen, and she let out the breath she was holding. He was
cleaning up. In her house. He was naked. Showering. In her
house.

The shower cut off and she hurried into the
kitchen like she was caught doing something wrong. But once again
she came to a stop and her heart jumped to her throat. The kitchen
wasn’t completely done, but she loved it already.

The cabinets were open and airy. Some of the
top ones were just floating shelves where she could line up her
herb plants or jars of flour and sugar. The counters were the soft
soapstone Hale had helped her pick out. All her appliances were a
cute retro green color and shape. In the middle of the room was an
island to prepare food, and there was still enough space for a
small breakfast table in front of the windows. It was perfect.

“Looks pretty good, huh?”

Hale wrapped his still-damp arms around her
waist. His bare chest pressed against her back as he pulled her in
closer, engulfing her in the scent of soapy male. She craned her
neck to look back at him. “It’s amazing! I can’t believe it turned
out so well.”

“I appreciate your vote of confidence.” Hale
laughed and kissed her softly on the lips. “Of course, the hardware
isn’t authentic to the era…”

Rolling her eyes, Kyra looked at the cute
knobs she and Stevie had found at the salvage place. “Maybe not,
but they’re so cute!”

“Whatever you say. So what are you cooking
in your surprisingly decent kitchen?” He stepped away and peered
into the shopping bags she’d set on the counter.

“I need to try a tofu and vegan chocolate
chip recipe tonight for work,” Kyra said sheepishly. She shrugged
when he just stared blankly at her. “Maybe you’ll try it and like
it?”

“Maybe I’ll order takeout. Why are you a
vegan anyway?”

She stepped around him and started pulling
stuff out of the bags. “It’s healthier, and it makes my body feel
good.”

“Don’t you miss meat?” he asked, hopping up
onto the counter to watch her put away the food. She debated with
each item, considering what new shelf she wanted to put it on.

“Sometimes,” she said, answering his
question, but she was distracted as she tried to organize her
fridge the way she wanted it. “I’ll eat some meat every now and
then in small quantities. Humans weren’t meant to eat as much
protein as we do now. Our bodies are supposed to process more of a
hunter-and-gatherer diet.”

“But we’ve evolved.”

“Sure.” Kyra closed the fridge and crossed
back over to the shopping bags. “But we also have a lot more food
allergies and food intolerances these days than there were back
then.”

They talked as she prepared the food. It was
easy to be with Hale, to talk to him, and listen. He was open to
her ideas, even if he teased her relentlessly about them. He made
her laugh and smile, and when he asked her a question, she didn’t
think twice about her answer, which was a new development. She just
talked, and the time slipped past.

She brought down her camera to record some
pieces of her preparing the vegan cookies. Hale watched her with
interest as she set everything up to look pretty before she started
filming little snippets of the cooking process. She took pictures
of herself with the batter and as she waited for the cookies to
cook. He asked her more questions about what she did every day, so
she told him about the video she’d made earlier. She could tell he
was proud of her, and that lightened her mood even more.

They sat on her back porch to eat. She
brought out some wine for Hale to drink with his dinner. He tried
the tofu and deemed it bearable but completely unsatisfying. The
cookies were a better hit, and he had a few. When she was full, she
laid down, resting her head on a pillow.

“Kyra.”

“Yeah?” She propped her head up so she could
see him. He reached out and traced her ankle bone with the tip of
his finger. The calluses there were familiar now, and a shiver
rippled up her spine.

“Why did you move here?” he asked. His eyes
were on her skin, but his brows were drawn together in thought.

Kyra knew he was asking about more than just
the fact that her mom’s childhood home had come up for sale,
because he already knew that fact. He wanted the real reasons. She
turned her head to watch the waves through the spindles of the
porch railing. The breeze off the water was just cool enough to
chill her skin. Hale moved the tracing patterns of his finger
higher up to her calf.

“I thought it would help me,” she said
quietly.

“With what?”

“The bad days. Some were so awful that I
didn’t even want to get out of bed.” Kyra turned her head back
toward him to watch his face as she explained. “My life hasn’t been
bad. The only thing that I can even be sad about would be my mom.
So I thought if I came here, I could deal with it and move on. I’d
hoped it would take the bad days away.”

Hale started massaging her calf as he
thought about her answer. The silence stretched out between them.
The sounds of the waves and the magic of his hand was lulling her
to sleep. Her eyes fluttered open when he spoke again. “Depression
is a chemical imbalance. You don’t have to have a horrible life to
deserve to be sad.”

“Yeah. Sure.” But Kyra didn’t believe it;
she’d always felt guilty for feeling the way she did.

“Are the bad days gone?”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d
had a bad day since coming to Canaan, which was a good sign, even
if it was likely only a temporary one. “For now. They go and come.
But I think Stevie helps and Cade and especially you.”

“Me? How?” His hand slipped higher to the
back of her knee where he stroked the tender skin. Kyra’s eyes fell
closed once again.

“Hmmm. That feels good,” she said.

“How do I help you, Kyra?” Hale asked
again.

“You keep me honest, even if you are a jerk
about it.”

“I see it sometimes, hiding behind what you
say or do. You mask it, and I don’t even think you know
sometimes.”

“What is ‘it’?” Kyra murmured, her thoughts
not really on the conversation.

“A sadness.”

Her eyes reared open. She sat up on her
elbows and looked down at Hale. “I’m not sad.” He cocked an eyebrow
at her and stopped moving his hand. The absence of his touch was
like a winter wind settling into her bones. “I’m not sad right
now,” she corrected.

“That’s good. What do you feel right now?”
he asked, hooking his hand beneath her knees and pulling her legs
farther apart. He shifted between them and skimmed his hands along
the inside of her thighs.

Considering the fact that Kyra’s throat was
closing in and her heart was beating between her legs, she would
have said she was incredibly turned on if she could speak. But Hale
wasn’t waiting for an answer. He pushed the hem of her dress up her
legs to her hips, exposing the sheer lace of her underwear that
she’d picked out just for tonight.

He crooked his finger around the lace edge
and pushed them aside, exposing her to the night air. “I see how
wet you are, Kyra. You’re glistening.”

She moaned and arched her back, pressing
herself down into his hand. Her only coherent thoughts were of the
pulses searing between her legs and the wild ache building down
there. She needed him to ease it, to bring her relief.

Instead of using his finger, he bent down,
lowering his head between her legs. A moment of clarity shuddered
through Kyra, and she tried to shift away, feeling suddenly far too
exposed and vulnerable. Hale gripped her hips to keep her in place.
“I want to taste you,” he said, his voice sounding like it was drug
across gravel.

“Hale, I don’t know…I mean, I don’t…”

“Has anyone else ever tasted you?” he asked,
rising up to look at her face. She shook her head. Unreasonably,
she wanted to cry; this act felt too intimate, too real. Her eyes
brimmed with tears. She wanted to jerk him away from her, but she
couldn’t move. “Good,” Hale growled.

It was too late to stop him now. She
squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath as he positioned himself
between her legs. His tongue was like a lick of heat flaming
through her core. She gasped and jerked, but he held her tight. His
fingers spread her apart, and he licked her again, playing his
tongue across her clit and sucking on her lips.

His mouth on her was both soft and powerful
at the same time—not the sensations Kyra had expected. It was the
lightest of touches, but it sent quakes through her entire
foundation. She felt as though the floor was opening up beneath her
and she was falling through. She groaned and rocked her hips,
urging him for more. She felt him smile against her as he pushed
his tongue into her.

She was about to come right when Hale rose
up again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Kyra blinked
at him as she tried to pull herself back away from the cliff she
was about to walk off of. The frustration of being so close to
coming welled up inside of Kyra until she saw how pale and clammy
Hale looked in the moonlight.

“Oh, man,” he said, putting his hand on his
flat stomach.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, tugging her dress
down to cover herself.

“I don’t feel so good.”

Just then a horrible rumble ripped through
Hale’s gut, loud enough for Kyra to hear. “Oh, gosh. Are you
sick?”

To answer, Hale turned and threw up over the
edge of porch. She scrambled up and went to his side. Not knowing
what else to do, she rubbed his back as he groaned and heaved some
more. She tried not to think too much about the sounds, but her own
stomach began to twist.