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“Right.” The idea of the guy’s wedding band stored in the ashtray definitely put a kink in Kayla’s conviction to stay mad. “Regardless, you can’t keep doing stuff like this. People are going to notice if every guy who happens to take a second look at Opal or me walks away with a limp, itch, or rash.”
Kayla sat back on the bed and tugged on her black, calf-high boots. “Besides, every time you pull a stunt like this, I end up having to change and get my clothes dry-cleaned. That ectoplasmic crap you spit out sticks to me like spider webs.” It never seemed to get all over Opal, probably because she‘d been wearing her seatbelt when the semi hit them. In life, her little sister had loved Aaron as much as anyone. But after—she didn’t share the same connection Kayla did.
Maybe that’s why Aaron let Opal be. He couldn’t keep track of her the same way he could with Kayla.
“I’m not trying to keep you from having a life.” He sounded almost sincere. “I’m trying to keep you from having a shitty one.”
She balled her fists at her sides. “Get out of my head, Aaron.”
A whoosh of air sped through the room, and the leaves that had been in constant motion fell to the floor as silence descended. She was alone.
Shoulders slumped, Kayla walked back to her bed and sat at the edge. This was insanity. Arron might be a ghost, but Kayla was the one who didn’t exist beyond these walls.
She lived with her dead brother and witchy-wanna-be sister in an apartment above the bar her parents had left them. She didn’t have any friends, only friendly regulars. People with whom she passed a few words before they met their dates or co-workers for drinks. She didn’t have lovers. She had her family. Or rather, what was left of them. It should be plenty, and to think otherwise seemed like an immense betrayal.
But there were times when the loneliness overwhelmed her, and she wished for the comfort of a friend’s companionship. Longed to feel the intensity of a lover’s desire. Wondered how love might exist for her. And in those brief, selfish moments, one face came to mind. One low, sexy laugh and one long, hard kiss, the memory of which always left her breathless.
Rafe Carpenter. A year had passed since the night they’d met waiting for their ridiculously delayed carry-out orders to come up at the place down the block. She’d known from the first sentence out of his mouth he was leaving the next day, moving to Portland to help a buddy opening a microbrewery. It was the reason she’d agreed when he asked if she wanted to share a booth while they ate. Then—when the remains of their meal had gone cold but the laughter and conversation continued to flow—if she’d like to go for a walk. And hours later, when goodbye weighed heavy in the air between them…that kiss.
She’d been able to say yes to all of it because Rafe would be long gone before Aaron had a chance to act.
But more and more over the past few days, she’d found herself thinking about Rafe. Dwelling on the feel of those overlong dark strands between her fingers, and the strength of his arms closing around her. Wondering what it might have been like if he hadn’t been leaving…if she had a normal life.
In a snap, her skin turned clammy and her stomach tensed in fear. She cursed herself for even thinking about normal, knowing that Aaron had no place in the normal world and she didn’t want a world without him.
* * * * *
Rafe Carpenter stood at the fuel pump and stretched, his limbs screaming their relief after hours of confinement. Every nerve in his body was on edge, no doubt a side effect of the jet engine strength gas station coffee he’d been slugging back since he woke at five with a clawing need to get back on the road, get back to Chicago, get back to her.
Fuck, maybe get back to her.
He’d be lucky if Kayla even recognized him. Hell, it had been a year. A year to the day since they’d met and then a handful of hours later said goodbye. Only it had been more than that. At least to him. But for all he knew, Kayla had a new guy getting caught up in her every night.
She was irresistible. With all that gorgeous red brown hair, her bee-stung lips and delicate curves, he didn’t know how he’d managed to keep his hands to himself as long as he had. But more than her too tempting looks, it was the things she said and that soft sexy laugh that really did him in. They’d talked for hours, about anything and everything: About her bar and his brewing experience; about the neighborhood they’d both grown up in; about missed opportunities and how sometimes they could be the greatest gift of all. And just when he didn’t think he could stand not touching her for another second, she’d leaned into him and whispered, “I know you’re leaving, but I don’t want to miss this.”
And she’d kissed him.
Yeah, that kiss had left him rock hard and aching for a month. Haunted by the taste of her lips. Leaving had been a mistake, and not just because the business plan for his buddy’s microbrewery had been flawed beyond salvage, but because that instant connection he’d felt with Kayla was like nothing he’d experienced before. It was beyond intense and, shit, he’d felt crazy for thinking it, but it was almost like he could feel something trying to pull him back as he’d driven over the state line.
He’d felt that pull for a solid year. Even now, some fucked up part of his psyche was clinging to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he’d gotten to her the way she’d gotten to him. That tonight she might be thinking of him, thinking of those hours they were together this night twelve months ago. That she might be waiting for him.
Waiting for him? Where the hell had that come from?
He knew better, but still the second the pump stopped filling, he didn’t waste a second getting back on the road.
* * * * *
From the front of the apartment came the sound of the door slamming, followed by the thud of Opal’s bag hitting the floor.
“Hey I thought you only needed a minute to change,” her sister called. “McDonnell’s covering the bar until Gloria shows, but then he’s out. If the crowd is anything like it was last year, we’re going to need you down there.”
Right. Kayla closed her eyes and blew out a cleansing breath. Time to exit the pity party and get herself together.
With a quick glance at the mirror, checking her own reflection this time, she winced at her tangle of dark waves and the bits of dried leaves caught within.
She rummaged through her drawers in search of something to tame the beast, but came up empty. Great.
“Opal, have you seen my brush?” Even at twenty-one, her little sister hadn’t outgrown her tendency to borrow things without replacing them.
