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All right then.
Let’s add protective and sweet to Kyle’s Pros.
We pull into the nicest neighborhood in Blue Beech, and he rounds a corner before parking in a circular drive of the largest home on the block.
“This is it.”
I eyeball my surroundings before glimpsing his way. “Why don’t you live in this neighborhood?”
He raises a brow in confusion.
“You can obviously afford to live in a nicer neighborhood than mine.”
“You do realize I’m a police officer, right? We’re not raking in the money.”
“Yes,” I draw out. “But your family is loaded.”
“Doesn’t mean I am, nor do I want their money.”
I snap my mouth shut and unbuckle my seat belt, feeling awkward over my question. Of course Kyle, as a grown man, doesn’t allow his family to support him.
“And to feed your curiosity, I moved there because it was the house my grandmother grew up in. She talked about it all the time and how she missed living in a simple neighborhood. Someone bought it and renovated it. I put in an offer when it went back on the market. Trust me; it wasn’t because you lived next door even though it is a plus.” He winks before opening his door and getting out.
Circling around the truck, he opens my door next before offering his hand.
“Are you doing this to make sure I don’t get out and make a run for it?” I ask.
He chuckles. “No. I’m doing it because I’m romantic as fuck.”
I grab his hand with reluctance.
“I promise it won’t be dreadful. I enjoy your company, and deny it all you want, but you also enjoy mine. We’ll eat dinner, sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to my sister, and then bail. If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll leave.”
I release an overly exaggerated breath and hop out of the truck.
* * *
Kyle’s introducesme to his family. His mother, Nancy. His younger brother, Rex. The birthday girl and younger sister, Sierra. And the youngest girl, Cassidy. Sierra’s boyfriend is here, appearing nothing like I’d imagine her with by looking at her. Sierra is sporting a black leather jacket and bright red lips, and she’s wearing heels. Her boyfriend is in a sweater and a pair of Sperry slip-ons.
Sometimes, opposites do attract.
No Michael Lane in sight. Good. My appetite won’t be ruined.
We’re seated at the table, about to dig in, when the front door slams.
Uh-oh. Front doors slamming are never a good sign.
The room goes silent.
No one takes a bite or drink.
“Sorry I’m late.”
I stiffen at the sound of his voice.
Shit.
I hold my breath, awaiting his entrance. He stands in the entry, arms broad with an expensive suit and a face full of smugness. For a small-town mayor, he thinks he’s hotter shit than he is. He hardly has any pull, but word is, he’s trying to move up the totem pole and make it to Governor of Iowa. Then, Senate. Then, however higher he can manipulate his way up.
