“Because I know what you’re about to do.”
“What am I about to do?”
“Become the person I always thought you could be.”
And she wanted to. Kimberly wanted to be the woman Leslie thought she could be. Kimberly had potential? It lit a fire under her to be a better person.
She didn’t know where she would end up when all was said and done, but when she eased her eyes open and saw Burke sitting there, his hand still draped on her empty chair, nodding, determination and pride in his gold eyes, she felt like she could do it.
Like she could be good.
And suddenly, there was more value in her potential than in the caliber of her last name.
****
“You aren’t ready yet,” Burke murmured as he came to a stop in front of her tiny house. He’d walked her across the parking lot after Leslie and Kieran had left. Walked her home because even though her house was so close, his protective instincts were getting bigger by the minute around her.
Kimberly looked so pretty out here, the glow of the streetlight casting her face in gold tones and shadows. Perfectly arched dark eyebrows, hair curled into soft waves around her face, her eyes on him. They found him often when he was around her. He liked that.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You aren’t ready for a man to pressure you. You need time to heal.”
She swallowed audibly and nodded. “Of course, you’re right. I’m a mess.”
“No, you aren’t a mess at all. You’re coming into your own, and it’s going to be so damn fun watching it. But what good am I to you if I push you too fast? I’m no better than your parents. When you’re ready, and you’ll know when you are, you let me know.”
Her smile stretched her face but then faded, just before her cheeks turned pink. She ducked her gaze. “And then you’ll do what? Hold my hand and kiss me, shifter?”
“More like pin you down and fuck you, but you can paint a more romantic vision in your head if you’d like.”
When her wide eyes jerked up to him, he hid his grin. God, she was easy to rattle. So fun to poke at. But when he smelled her arousal, he knew he’d pushed them too far. His inner lion perked right up, and he took an accidental step closer to her. Clenching his fists at his side, he cleared his throat and said, “Good luck at work tomorrow.”
“I’ll try my best to suck less.”
He chuckled. “Atta girl.” He hesitated. Her lips were full and pink and kissable as hell. He wasn’t going to ruin this, though. He would be damned if he got in too deep too soon again.
She didn’t match him. Yet.
And he didn’t match her. Yet.
“Goodnight, snob,” he told her.
Kimberly leaned her shoulder against the open doorframe of her small home. “Goodnight, shifter.”
She wanted him to kiss her. Right? She wasn’t in a rush to leave him, wasn’t hurrying to disappear inside, and her pretty gaze kept dropping to his lips. Fuck, he wanted to give her what she wanted. What he wanted. He wished he could kiss the devil out of her and get that heart of hers tethered to him. He could kiss her if he wanted to. Just a little kiss. Just see what she tasted like.
Before he could tempt himself more, Burke turned and shoved his hands in his pockets, refused to look back as he walked to his Bronco. If he looked back at her pretty face, her cute leggings and UGGs, and those long legs he wished he could wrap around his waist, he would cave. He would push her back into that little house, turn off the lights, and push her too far too fast. Push, push, push. That’s what the lion did. That’s what he wanted to do.
Burke got into his truck, tossed Kimberly a wave, and smiled when she lifted her hand and waved back. She watched him go. He knew because he kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror.
His phone lit up with a text, and he checked it at the first stoplight.
Thank you for helping me find me.
It was a simple text. Just a few words but, damn, what an effect it had on him. His breath came faster and his heart pounded harder as he typed in a quick response before the light turned green.
The real you is pretty damn awesome. Send.
Chapter Seven
She didn’t understand the contraption that sat beside her little home.
Kimberly walked around the dented metal barrel someone had set near the tiny house. There were fresh boot prints in the snow like someone had just dropped it off in the last hour. The light snow falling would’ve covered the prints if they’d left it in the middle of the night. Inside, there was a stack of firewood and a cardboard box beside the barrel. She squatted in the frigid morning air, her breath freezing in front of her face.
Inside the box was a lighter, a few pages of yesterday’s newspaper, and a note.
Kim,
This is for box number five. When you’re ready, put the newspaper under the woo, and light the edge. Then toss your old memories in there at your own pace.
From,
Burke
The Burke who is late for work
She giggled at the rhyme at the end. Okay, she’d always hated when anyone called her Kim, but when Burke called her that, it felt like a pet name that no one else had the rights to. Secretly, she liked it. Kimberly pulled her phone out of her back pocket and texted as she meandered across the parking lot to Leslie’s pottery shop.
Kimberly nearly tripped twice while she texted and walked, but that was okay. It was early, and no one was here to see her go flying face-first into the snow.
I’ve decided to spend my last thirteen dollars on a yummy meal of Hamburger Helper. If you like Hamburger Helper, this is your invite to come over and eat some tonight at six. This is repayment for the bison hash. P.s. thank you for the pyrotechnics. I’ll try not to burn down my new shack.
From,
Kim
The Kim who has two shins
(that doesn’t really rhyme, but I am C-Team at poetry)
She sent that to him and smiled to herself.
As she reached the door, her phone vibrated in her hand. She stomped snow off her UGGs while she checked the text. It was a picture of Burke in his truck with a big cheesy grin, holding a can of Spam.
Why do you have a can of Spam in your truck? Send.
That also doesn’t rhyme. Look, if I ever break down on one of these country-ass backroads and get stuck in a snow drift, I have enough canned-meat-of-the-gods to last me and my lion about a week. Spam is my hero. You cook the Hamburger Helper. I will bring the Spam.
Kimberly giggled as she typed out, Pass. I wouldn’t eat that if it was the last thing on earth.
Burke’s answer was quick. What? This relationship is over. I can’t think a girl is hot if she doesn’t like Spam. Have a nice life.
She stood on the welcome mat of Leslie’s Pottery Shop in shock. He thought she was hot? Her? But she was a divorcé. She hadn’t even been able to keep her ex-husband satisfied. He hadn’t wanted to touch her the last few years.
Okay. Okay! So Burke had said she was hot, and here she was overthinking it. Planning their future wedding just because a handsome man—er…shifter-man—gave her a nice compliment? God, how thirsty for affection was she?