That Kind Of Girl. Kim Mckade

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      She found she couldn’t answer, couldn’t even move her head in affirmation or denial.

      “Becca, you don’t still want me to…” He took a step toward her. “You’re not seriously saying you still want me to make love to you, are you?”

      Words stuck in her throat. Rather than speak them, she swallowed them down.

      “Good God, Becca, what are you trying to do to me here? Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to walk away last time? It almost killed me.”

      “You managed.”

      “Just. Becca, I’m naked under here. You don’t want to say things like that to me.”

      “I’m not drunk,” she said, quietly but with force. “If I made the offer again, and you said no, you wouldn’t have that as an excuse. Your only excuse would be that you just don’t want me.”

      He took another step, stood in front of her now. She could see the stubble on his chin, the lines around his eyes from worry and lack of sleep. She could see where the shadow of his tan carved down to a V over his chest.

      “Are you offering?” His voice was so gruff, he sounded like someone else, a stranger.

      She lifted her eyes to his, and the moment stretched between them, heavy with the knowledge of what could be.

      “Becca, are you offering?” He emphasized each word.

      She swallowed and opened her mouth to answer.

      The buzzer on the dryer went off.

      She didn’t know he’d been holding his breath until he blew it out in a gust. She lowered her head, looked at his hands, the floor, the rain outside.

      “Bit of a cliché, isn’t that? Except, it’s a buzzer that’s saved you and not a bell.”

      She moved to step around him. He put a hand out to stop her. “Wait—”

      She kept moving. “I’ll get your clothes, Colt.”

      She could feel his eyes on her as she walked across the porch and opened the door. Could feel them, though she didn’t turn back to see.

      Chapter 4

      Colt scraped putty from the edge of the new window and rubbed a knuckle into his back. This was the last of the three windows he’d had to replace; he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how Doff had managed to break them all. Not that it mattered now.

      He groaned, flexed his shoulders and looked at the sky. Judging both from the low sun in the west and his aching back, it was time to knock off for the day. His eyes drifted downward, and he saw Becca walking toward the quarry, a canvas and easel under one arm and a small tackle box in the other hand.

      It irritated him, seeing how serene she looked walking across the field, when he’d felt like chewing nails all day. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. He’d lain awake, stiff as a rod all night because he couldn’t get her off his mind. And she was out for a stroll without a care.

      He dropped the putty knife into his toolbox and closed the lid with a satisfying bang. Was she trying to drive him crazy? Was she trying to tease him until he was ready to pull his hair out? Because if she was, she was doing a damn fine job.

      But he knew she wasn’t. Becca wasn’t a tease. She was naive, and so genuinely good that it was almost unbelievable. It wasn’t her fault he wanted to drag her to the ground.

      He felt like an idiot, tagging after her. But he did it, anyway. He told himself he wanted to see what she was painting. And he actually did ask about the painting, when he joined her at the quarry.

      She cast a quick glance at him over the edge of the canvas. “It’s the quarry, of course.”

      Of course. She was as breezy as if the previous day hadn’t happened. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and fidgeted around behind the easel. She went back to painting.

      “So…” He kicked a small stone into the quarry.

      “Yes?”

      “How’s school going?”

      “It’s almost gone, thank goodness. The spring gets longer every year and the summer gets shorter.”

      “Hmm.” Fascinating conversation. He bounced on his heels a few times and turned back to her.

      “I was wondering…I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. But I’m curious. How is it that you’re—”

      “Still a virgin?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Maybe I was waiting for marriage.”

      “Are you?”

      “Maybe I’m toying with the idea of becoming a nun, but I just can’t commit to the black habit.”

      “Is joking about it your way of saying you don’t want to talk about it?”

      Becca faced him, and he could see what a struggle it was for her to look him in the eye.

      “Yes, it is. It’s an embarrassing subject.”

      “I don’t mean to embarrass you, Becca. I just—”

      “Then, let’s not talk about it. I’ve worked really hard, Colt, to overcome the person I used to be. And…I don’t know, seeing you again…for a while it was like I was back in high school again.” She swirled her brush in a dab of paint before she met his eyes again. “For some people, that’s a pleasant trip down memory lane. For me, it’s not. I don’t want to go through all that again, and I don’t want to think about it. The past is the past, and I can’t undo it. I’d really rather just not talk about it.”

      He was silent for a moment, then picked up a rock and tossed it into the quarry. It arced and seemed to hang, then finally went down with a plop. “So, you’d rather I just keep away from you while I’m here.”

      “No.” She looked at him, her brow furrowed. “No, I would not rather you do that.”

      “You said seeing me made you feel like you were in high school again. If I bring back bad memories for you…”

      “You make me remember what a fool I made of myself. That’s not your fault, it’s mine. But you bring back good memories, too. Like now, here in the quarry. Some of my fondest memories from growing up were right here. No, I don’t want you to stop coming to see me. I just don’t want to talk about the state of my nonexistent sex life anymore.”

      He reached over and rubbed a finger lightly over her collarbone. The surprisingly intimate contact made her jump. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch, and he drew his hand back and pulled her sweater closer around her neck. “Sounds fair enough.”

      Colt arched suddenly, pressing his fist into the small of his back.

      “You СКАЧАТЬ