Page 81 of Never Kiss the Bad Boy
I wrap my arms around his waist. “You’re welcome. For everything. Go boss the guys around, dig a hole with your bare hands, or something else physical to get some of the stress out, and then I’ll bring lunch over later. Sound good?”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Yeah, but once I check on the guys, I need to pick up Peanut Butter at Maggie’s and take him home, so I might not be back by lunch. The guys will appreciate it, though.”
“Fuck that. I was willing to feed you. They were getting fringe benefits. If you won’t be back, they can eat their sandwiches after giving me shit this morning.” I smile, trying to lighten things for him, and he puts effort into returning it, but it’s half-hearted and weak at best. More seriously, I say, “I didn’t realize Peanut Butter was at Maggie’s.” I feel bad that I didn’t think about the dog even though we were gone all afternoon, evening, and night, but I’m not surprised Kyle did. He’s good like that, always thinking of everyone else.
“Yeah, I went back out there to check on the puppies and took him with me. He didn’t want to leave and I wasn’t sure what I was gonna do with dinner, so Maggie said he could stay. She’s fine with him being there as long as I need him to be, especially since he keeps the other dogs in check for her. But even at home, he’s got a dog door to access the yard, automatic water and food dispensers, and free reign of the house. Hell, he already thinks I’m his guest-slash-servant, so a night getting to sleep in the middle of the bed would be a sweet deal to him. But he probably had a blast at Maggie’s even if he had to sleep on a dog bed on the floor.”
“How’re the puppies doing?” I ask, trying to keep things on the positive tip.
“Whiskey took them all. They’re nursing alongside her own pups,” he says, and I know he’s happy about that, but his face is blank as he reports on Peanut Butter, Whiskey, and the puppies.
“Good.” I’m about to say more, though I don’t know what to say, but Nessa kicks at the front screen.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got the rest of them. I don’t need no help,” she grunts, her arms loaded down with about half her bodyweight in bags.
Kyle instantly moves to the door, opening it and taking the load from her.
“Just set them down. I know you need to get going,” I tell him, and he sends me a grateful look. He waves and steps outside.
Nessa turns demanding eyes my way. “What is going on, girl?”
I sigh, grabbing the bags at her feet and gesturing toward the kitchen with a jerk of my head. “Come on, I’ll give you the long story short version.”
As I unpack the groceries, I tell her about my blow-up at Costco, Kyle chasing me to my car, and then going to the dog rescue where he volunteers. I swear hearts are popping out of her eyes. “He rescues dogs?”
“Well, he works with the lady who rescues them, doing odd jobs for her.”
“Same thing,” Nessa declares.
Then, I tell her about Kyle showing up unexpectedly, taking me for a ride, and inviting me to his family dinner. I don’t share about his family’s financial situation because it doesn’t matter to me. Kyle is who he is, and that’s I care about. When I tell her about Kyle going off on his Dad—leaving out why because that’s his story to share or not—she gasps.
“If I talked to my Daddy some sort of way like that, he would’ve taught me a thing or two about a thing or two, and that’s for sure,” Nessa says before her face sours. “May he rest in pieces.”
She looks up at the ceiling like she’s praying, but the truth is, Nessa doesn’t know if her father is alive or dead. He walked out when her mom’s dementia got bad enough to require constant care, and she hasn’t heard from him since. She has a lot of feelings about that, because he was a good father for her when she was younger, but walking out on your sick wife, leaving your daughter to care for her, doesn’t exactly win you Father of the Year awards in anybody’s book, least of all, Nessa’s.
“Yeah, I don’t really know all of it. But you’ve met Kyle? Big, loud, confident to the point of cocky, right?” She nods, her expression one of ‘duh’. “With his family, he amps that up to the extreme, they roll their eyes like ‘that’s Kyle’, and then they kinda ignore him. And he goes invisible.”
Nessa balks, pointing toward the front door where Kyle left. “That man? Goes invisible?”
I hold my arms out wide, as confused as she is. “Right?”
“What’s he gonna do?”
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “I told him it’s fixable, but that’s up to him.”
Nessa leans toward me, pinning me with a serious look. “More importantly, what’re you doing with him? I told you to get some dick, but long rides, deep conversations, meeting the family? Girl, that man is gone for you. G-O-N-E, gone.”
It’s admittedly been a huge couple of days—for Kyle, for me, and for us.
I lick my lips, knowing that once I say it, I can’t take it back. “I’m falling in love with him,” I admit.
I wait for the chains to wrap around me, tying me down and linking me to a man who will always put himself and his pride first. But they don’t come. Instead of feeling trapped, I feel free. Because Kyle isn’t that type of man. He puts everyone else first to his own detriment, which is something he’s got to work on.
But where I fought against any relationship because I didn’t think being myself inside one was possible, Kyle makes me feel like who I am and what I have to offer are more than enough.
I just want him to know I feel the same way about him—he’s enough, he’s worthy, and he’s very much loveable.
Nessa claps her hands and stomps her feet happily. “I knew it! I mean, who could blame you? Sugarbear’s a sexy man.”