Tragic (Lark Cove Book 3)
Tragic: Chapter 5

“Stupid sweat glands.” I fanned my armpits, taking a few breaths to calm my racing heart.

I was so nervous for this dinner with Kaine that I’d been sweating profusely for an hour. My hands were clammy, and I’d put on three layers of deodorant so far tonight. I hadn’t been this nervous for dinner with a man since my first date with Adam in college.

I wasn’t exactly sure why I’d invited Kaine over tonight. Maybe because he’d been so nice to me on the hiking trail. Maybe because I hadn’t expected him to accept. But he was due at any moment, and I didn’t want to be dripping when he arrived.

Thankfully, he hadn’t come out of his cabin yet, so I had a few moments to breathe and cool down as I kept an eye on his house through the window.

It was Saturday so I’d spent the morning cleaning the camper. Then I’d gone to the local grocery store, where I’d questioned my menu choice at least a hundred different times as I’d wandered up and down all eight aisles.

Finally, I’d settled on a meal that a burly man with bulging muscles would enjoy: steak and potatoes. Though, I’d grabbed some chicken too in case he didn’t eat red meat.

I’d come home and spent my afternoon in the kitchen. I’d prepped my favorite scalloped potatoes, which were currently in the oven. I’d cooked and shredded the chicken for my backup meal of barbeque sandwiches. But since scalloped potatoes went great with steak but were too fancy for barbeque, I’d made a homemade potato salad.

When I’d realized he might not like potatoes, I’d dashed into town for more groceries. I had coleslaw, fruit salad and corn on the cob crammed in my refrigerator.

It was when I’d finished cooking that the anxious sweating had started.

The only thing I was certain he’d like was dessert. I was going all out and making my famous skillet cookies.

I’d found these mini cast-iron skillets a few years ago. I would press chocolate chip cookie dough into the bottom and bake them until they were just past gooey. Then I’d top them with an enormous scoop—or two—of vanilla ice cream, drizzle them with chocolate and caramel sauce and dig in.

Even after Adam gave up sugar and processed foods, he’d indulge and split one with me.

Everyone loved my skillet cookies.

And even though my own skillets were in a storage unit until my house was remodeled, I’d found a skillet to use temporarily at a sporting goods store in Kalispell a couple of weeks ago.

If Kaine didn’t like sweets, I had no problem eating the entire cookie myself.

Life was too short to skip dessert on Saturday nights. And my curves wouldn’t maintain themselves.

A loud gust of wind rolled over the Airstream, and I glanced out the window. The wind had been steadily picking up all afternoon, and the treetops weren’t just slow dancing now, they were doing the polka.

Not wanting the camp chair I’d set up outside to go blowing down the mountain, I hustled out the door to fold it up.

“Hey.” Kaine’s deep rumble caught my attention.

I spun around to see him striding along the path between our homes. The chair slipped from my hands.

“Hi,” I breathed, raking my eyes over sheer magnificence.

Kaine wore his signature tan pants—Carhartts, I think they were called. The sporting goods store in Kalispell where I’d bought my skillet had racks and racks of those thick, canvas pants. Apparently, they were a staple in Montana menswear because of their durability.

I knew from tugging them off his narrow hips that they were heavier than jeans. I knew from watching him leave my camper, shirtless and still glossy with sweat, that they accentuated his incredible ass.

I tore my eyes away from his beefy thighs flexing beneath my new favorite brand of pants and forced them upward, over his flat stomach.

He was wearing a hunter-green Henley and had bunched up the long sleeves, baring his forearms. They were tanned and snaked with veins. His biceps pulled tight at the thermal weave, and since he’d left the buttons undone at the collar, it hinted at the chest hair that covered his pecs.

My gaze drifted higher to his face and I licked my lips. Not even my skillet cookies were as mouthwatering as Kaine Reynolds.

The color of his shirt made the green in his eyes stand out and the gold flecks darker, more like copper. He’d trimmed his beard today. It was still thick, but he’d cut it back enough so I could see the contours of his square jaw.

My god, he did it for me. Head to toe, Kaine Reynolds was magic.

Just the sight of him made my lady parts quiver and my heart do a funny flip. Even when we were in love, my heart had never flipped for Adam. I refused to think about what that meant.

Instead, I pictured Adam wearing Kaine’s clothes and stifled a laugh. Adam would have looked like a fool in those clothes, an imposter portraying a rugged character. He lacked Kaine’s natural grit and edge.

My neighbor’s long legs ate up the distance between us quickly, and before I was ready to stop gawking, he was standing in front of me.

“Hi,” I repeated. “How are you?”

“Good.” He bent down for the chair I’d forgotten, folding it up and propping it against the camper.

“You’re right on time. I’ll get dinner started but I forgot to ask what you liked yesterday. Are steak and potatoes okay?”

He nodded. “Great.”

“Okay. Would you like a beer or wine? I have red and white.” Along with sparkling water, milk and three kinds of soda in case he didn’t drink.

“Beer’s fine.”

Why did he keep grunting short answers? I was sweating again but smiled, hoping to put him at ease.

He had this odd look in his eyes, one I’d seen a couple of times over the last day. His mouth turned down on one side, not a complete frown, but the beginning of one. His eyebrows slanted together at the center, creating a deep crease above the wide bridge of his nose. And his eyes seemed to go in and out of focus, like he was being torn between past and present. The swirls of gold and brown and green dulled to a muddy mixture of all three.

I wanted to hug him.

But instead of wrapping my arms around those broad shoulders, I did the only thing I could think of to steal his attention.

I rambled.

“Did you ever see the inside of this house?” I pointed to my future home. “It was a shrine to the sixties. I’m having to remodel the entire thing because it looked like a psychedelic rainbow puked in there. I’ve never seen anything so hideous in my life.”

He blinked, his eyes refocusing, and glanced at the house. Then he turned to my garbage heap by the Dumpster. “If those yellow cabinets are any indication, I’m glad I was spared the experience.”

I giggled. “It’s forever burned into my brain. For your sake, I’m glad too.”

“How’s the remodel going?”

“Slower than I’d like.” I sighed. “But the crew has nearly all of the demolition done, so now they can start putting it all back together. Luckily for me, the house is structurally sound so they aren’t having to fix a ton of fundamental problems.”

Making it beautiful was tough enough. In addition to my floor-to-ceiling cosmetic updates, I was removing a few walls to open up the living room and kitchen area. And the master bathroom was going to be rearranged completely to give me more storage space.

It might be just me, but I liked to have an abundance of bath towels on hand. One day, I hoped to meet a guy who’d want to come over and occasionally spend the night. My future lover deserved plush towels after his morning shower too.

“Maybe after dinner you can give me a tour,” Kaine said.

“I’d like that. Come on in.” I led the way into the camper as Kaine followed close behind.

The moment the door shut behind him, the air turned heavy. My eyes landed on the couch and my cheeks flushed. Just yesterday he’d had me on that couch. Just yesterday he’d been inside me, making me lose all control.

When I looked over my shoulder, his eyes were locked on the couch. The colors burned bright and clear. They were electric. His chest heaved with short, shallow breaths. Yesterday’s escapades were fresh in his mind too.

Could Kaine be the guy who used my spare towels? My brain screamed Danger! Danger! and I shut out the image of him emerging from my future shower, naked and dripping wet.

I cleared my throat. “Make yourself at home.”

He blinked, then shied away from the couch to sit at the table instead while I went to the fridge and got out his beer.

With a quick flick of his hand, he unscrewed the top and tilted the dark glass to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he took one long pull.

I about combusted on the spot. Drinking beer was not supposed to be sexy. But the way he held that amber bottle in his large hand, the way his wet lips barely touched the rim, was scorch-the-earth hot.

“Need any help?” Kaine set his beer down, causing me to flinch.

“No, I’m good.” I spun around for the fridge, busying myself by unloading the steaks.

Get a grip, Piper. If I kept staring at him, he was going to think I’d just invited him over for sex. Maybe subconsciously, that had been the real motivation for my dinner invite.

Kaine’s addicting scent filled the camper, and I frowned, knowing the food would soon drown it out. He smelled like wood and spice, something I rarely came across with city men.

I went back to the fridge, getting out my potato dish just so my hands were busy. His hair was a little too long and curled at the nape of his neck and around his ears. My fingers were aching to replace out if the hairs were soft or coarse like his beard.

Yesterday’s couch time hadn’t been about learning or exploring. It had been all about relieving the tension and scratching the itch.

But the problem was, that itch was back, nagging me more than ever.

I turned on the oven and lit a burner on the stove, pushing away the urge to say screw the steaks, I’d rather screw Kaine. I got out a frying pan, ignoring the feel of Kaine’s eyes dragging up and down my backside.

I’d worn my favorite cuffed jeans tonight, the ones that did great things for my ass and highlighted my slim waist. I’d also worn a simple black tank top with thin straps. The tank dipped low in both the back and front, showing off some skin.

“How do you like your steak?” I asked over my shoulder.

He ducked his head to his beer. Busted. “Medium rare.”

I smiled and went about my cooking, occasionally glancing backward at Kaine. We’d make eye contact, instant heat sizzling between us, until one of us would replace the courage to break away. When I went to set the table, I brushed his arm accidentally and he nearly came out of his seat.

The electricity between us was at ten thousand volts by the time I plated our meal and sat across from him. The room was so stifling with sexual tension, I was barely able to fill my lungs.

Every breath was a pant. Every heartbeat a boom. Every movement intensified the throbbing between my legs.

What the hell was going on? It was like years of repressed sexual desire had finally caught up with me. Sex with Kaine had awoken this intoxicating need for more and more and more. Not even the glass of red wine I’d had while cooking had mellowed it out.

And it appeared I wasn’t the only one in this predicament.

Kaine’s beer bottle had long since been drained, and he’d almost polished off his second. His hand was gripping his steak knife so hard, I worried it would snap in his fierce grip.

“Enjoy.”

He nodded, cutting into his steak and forking a bite. I cut into my own but froze as he lifted the bite to his mouth and chewed. His jaw flexed. His lips moved, just slightly.

Chewing? Chewing was sexy now? I recrossed my legs, concerned I wouldn’t make it through this meal without a spontaneous orgasm.

I set down my fork and knife, closed my eyes and took in a long breath.

If we were going to survive this meal, I needed a distraction. We needed to move past the chemistry and into something more like friendship.

“So you design furniture,” I said.

He nodded, still chewing.

“Do you like it?”

He nodded again.

“Good. It’s important to love your job.” I picked up my utensils and went back to my steak. “I love my job. I work for Logan Kendrick. His wife Thea runs the bar in town. Do you know them?”

Kaine shook his head. “I don’t get into town much.”

Why did that statement not surprise me? “He moved here a few years ago from New York. That’s where I met him. But then he moved out here for Thea. This is actually their camper. They weren’t using it this summer and let me borrow it.”

Logan and Thea had tried to convince me to stay in their boathouse until the remodel was done. But once I’d bought my property, I hadn’t wanted to delay living here for a single minute. I’d planned to replace my own camper to rent for a few months, but once Thea got wind of that idea, she’d insisted on me taking the Airstream. When I’d asked to pay them for using it, Logan had threatened to fire me if I brought it up again.

“Logan and Thea are two of my favorite people on the planet,” I told Kaine. “Logan’s family has a charitable organization called the Kendrick Foundation. I’ve been working as his assistant there for years.”

“What kinds of charities?” he asked before diving into the potatoes. A small hum of appreciation came from his throat.

“Their portfolio is varied, but since they were founded in New York, they dedicate a lot of resources to inner-city programs. Logan’s got a soft spot for children’s charities, so over the last few years, he’s really focused on pulling more of them under the Kendrick umbrella.”

And now that he was living in Montana, more of those charities were being added from the West Coast. For decades, the Kendrick Foundation had been city-centric, but Logan was expanding their reach. I was proud to say that my efforts were helping to make us known nationally.

“They own the children’s camp here in Lark Cove,” I said as Kaine continued to devour his meal. “Thea’s partner at the bar, Jackson Page, is married to the director. Do you know them? His wife’s name is Willa.”

Kaine shook his head again. “Never met them.”

And again, I wasn’t surprised. If I had to guess, I’d venture that Kaine’s social circle consisted of the small herd of deer I’d seen walking around our mountainside over the last week.

“They’re all wonderful people.”

Willa was sweet and shy and as genuine as they came. The way Jackson looked at her made me swoon every time. He’d get this dreamy look in his eyes whenever they settled on his wife. And when they made eye contact, the rest of us went out of focus.

It was the same with Logan and Thea.

I wanted to believe that Adam and I’d had that once. That we’d been so in love, the two of us would get lost in each other’s gaze for hours and hours on end. But the more time I spent around my friends in Lark Cove, the more I realized I’d been pretending for a long time. My marriage had always been missing that sense of completeness.

Or maybe we’d just lost it along the way.

We had started our relationship at such a young age. After college, we’d each concentrated on our careers. I’d gone to work for the Kendrick Foundation right after graduation, working as an assistant to one of the lower-level vice presidents. Then I’d worked my way up until I’d eventually become Logan’s assistant. He was chairman of the board and the most powerful man in the company.

And I was his right hand.

My grandfather had thought “assistant” was a glorified word for secretary, but the day after I’d sat down and explained all of my responsibilities, he’d bragged me up to all his friends. Years later, he never missed the chance to tell his golf partners in Arizona about my accomplishments.

My job was my pride. It was my passion.

Helping various charities get up and running made my pulse race. I loved weeding through proposals and pitching the ones I felt most strongly about to Logan. It was empowering, being in the inner circle, helping make decisions that would put a vast fortune to good use.

Nothing went on at the Kendrick Foundation that I wasn’t privy to. But seating myself at Logan’s side had taken work. A lot of hard work.

And while I’d been climbing my ladder, Adam had been climbing his. He’d landed his starring role on Broadway the same year I’d been promoted to work with Logan.

Ever since Adam and I had separated, I’d been carefully inspecting my failed marriage. Had he ever looked at me like I was the very oxygen keeping him alive? My subconscious was whispering no.

I wanted the look.

“This was delicious. Thank you.”

Lost in my own introspection, I hadn’t noticed that Kaine had finished his plate. “You’re welcome.”

“It’s been a long time since someone cooked for me.”

“My pleasure. It’s nice not to eat dinner alone.”

Even though we hadn’t visited much, just his company was nice. Especially once the sexual tension had eased.

I’d spent months eating alone in New York. I’d avoided restaurants for fear of running into Adam or his family or our former friends. He’d convinced them all I was depressed, and that was the reason why I’d filed for divorce. Whenever I ran into an old acquaintance, they’d say hello, then spend the next ten minutes convincing me to give marriage counseling a chance.

Adam loved me, after all.

Everyone seemed to have gotten memory loss about Adam kissing his costar.

The press had scandalized him, but it had blown over quickly. His costar was soon seen on the arm of another New York elitist. And Adam had made a public apology for his infidelity that the media had eaten up like candy.

At times, it had felt like all of Manhattan was judging me for not running back into my grieving husband’s open arms.

It had been easiest to stick to my apartment after that. I went to work. I went home. On occasion, I’d go see my parents or my brother. But they were busy with lives of their own, so I’d spent most evenings at my dinner table for one.

And though I loved being in Lark Cove, there were lonely nights here too.

Thea and Logan would have me over for dinner every night, but I was trying not to wear out my welcome. I often ate lunch with them when I went down to work with Logan. If Thea was at the bar, we’d often take breaks and eat with her there. But they needed their family time, so even when I was crashing in their boathouse, I’d leave and eat dinner alone.

“I’m a slow eater,” I told Kaine, though he’d probably figured that out already.

“I inhale my food. Take your time.”

As I ate, he looked out the window and over to my house. Then he inspected the camper from his seat. What he didn’t do was make eye contact.

My table in the RV was small, technically a four-seater, but only if two of those four people were small children. And Kaine was a big guy. His knees came well past the halfway mark, and as I shifted slightly, our knees touched. Beneath us, our feet were close. His tan boots were within a mere inch of my wedge sandals.

Testing the distance, I moved my foot ever so slightly. The second our soles touched, his eyes snapped to mine. The heat from earlier came back with the force of a blazing wildfire.

It wasn’t a look of utter devotion and worship, but this look from Kaine was a close runner-up.

Any second now, I was expecting him to rip the table between us off its hinges and out from between us. His eyes bored into mine, holding me captive, then skimming down my nose and to my lips.

The intensity of his stare made me dizzy. My tongue, acting on its own volition, darted between my lips and licked the bottom swell.

Kaine’s eyes flared before his long lashes drooped, hooding his lust-drunk gaze.

My heart was missing beats. My fingers ran across the edge of the table, unable to hold still. But Kaine sat rigid and stiff, moving only to breathe and flick his gaze across my lips.

I wanted his tongue on my mouth, not his stare. I wanted to feel it sweep inside and have him for dessert.

My breath hitched when his foot next to mine twitched. It came up my bare ankle, and though the sole of his boot was rough, he used the slightest touch. The friction shot tingles straight up my leg, past my knee and right to my core.

Was he playing footsie with me?

I tested him, lifting the toe of my sandal up his ankle. He didn’t pull his foot away.

Any other day, any other man, I’d laugh at this situation. We were playing footsie and it was utterly erotic.

Having sex with Kaine again would only complicate things. My body was all in, but there was a tiny warning bell ringing in the back of my mind.

Was this just a rebound? Was I transferring feelings from Adam to this man, simply because he was here?

No.

This wasn’t a rebound or some kind of revenge fuck. This was pure, unfettered attraction. This was two people whose chemistry was explosive. This was me wanting Kaine. And him wanting me right back.

If we agreed this was casual, then what was the harm? Awesome sex between neighbors didn’t have to get messy. When I’d moved here, I’d hoped to eventually replace an easy relationship. So it had happened a little sooner than expected.

If we set some ground rules, there was no reason Kaine and I couldn’t enjoy one another’s bodies.

“I have dessert.” Our feet kept playing beneath the table. “It’s this huge chocolate chip cookie in a cast-iron skillet. I put ice cream on top and then drizzle chocolate and caramel sauce over it all.”

“Sounds fucking incredible.” His gravelly voice made my core pulse.

“They are. I’ll make one for us.” I didn’t make a move to get up. I was too busy enjoying the feel of a rugged man’s work boot kissing the soft skin of my ankle.

We both knew this conversation wasn’t about the cookie.

His boot went higher up my calf. Heat pooled between my legs and I spread them apart.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” I told him.

He nodded. “I’m good with casual.”

“No expectations?”

“Not from me.”

“Okay,” I whispered, reluctantly taking my foot away from his so I could slide out of my seat.

I cleared my plate to the sink, but before I could turn and get Kaine’s, his heat was at my back. He reached around me, setting his empty plate on top of mine. Then he pried the steak knife and fork out of my hand, dropping them into the sink with a clank.

My heart raced. My breathing stopped. My hands shook with anticipation of what he’d do next.

Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his mouth toward my neck. His breath hit my skin first in a warm whisper before his soft lips pressed onto my bare skin.

Then came his hands, drifting slowly up my arms from my wrists. His square fingertips glided over my forearms and the sensitive skin on the undersides of my elbows. Nerve endings ignited and singed as his trail continued up my biceps.

By the time his hands made it to my shoulders, I was trembling. I lost my balance and swayed backward into his hard chest.

The moment we collided, his movements changed. Gone was the slow, torturous caress. His large hands gripped my shoulders before sliding palms across my collarbones. His fingers dug into the tops of my breasts, kneading them until I was on fire.

“Kaine,” I moaned, so close to coming from his lips and hands alone.

But before I reached the peak, Kaine spun me around, hoisted me up in his arms and carried me down the short hallway to my bedroom.

He tossed me onto the blue quilt and came at me with the same ferocity as he had yesterday on the couch. But this time, we savored. We worshipped. We discovered.

Kaine Reynolds was a master with his hands, among other appendages. He had sensitive nipples and liked it when I tugged them between my teeth. His hair was soft and threaded perfectly between my fingers.

And despite our first go on the couch, the man had stamina.

Long after the sun had gone down, Kaine and I shared a big cookie. Then he got dressed and went home.

I watched from the doorway as he navigated the path home in the moonlight and laughed to myself, muffling it with a hand.

Of all the neighbors I’d had before, and there had been many, Kaine was far and away my favorite.