Beautiful Distraction (12 page)

After what feels like an eternity, we reach the front porch.
Kellan finally unmounts and secures the bridle to the veranda, then lifts me in
his arms again.

He pushes the door open and carries me into the kitchen,
setting me down at the table. He leaves for a few minutes and returns with a
first aid kit, a towel, and a bowl. I expect him to return to his chores. But
instead, he settles besides me, his proximity too close for comfort as he
starts to inspect my ankle again.

His hand feels rough against my skin.

As if he’s worked on a farm all his life.

For the life of me, I cannot imagine him to be a nightclub
owner, the kind that parties all night, and yet his expensive car suggests he
does. At the same time, it’s strange to think that a rich guy like him enjoys
pure physical labor. It makes me wonder about his past, who he is, what he
does.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t try to run from
me. I told you to stay close,” Kellan remarks, his hoarse whisper sending an
instant jolt through my body.

Of course he would think that.

“I wasn’t running and most certainly not from you.”

“Yeah. Ava—” He hesitates. Words linger unspoken.

The way he says my name—it’s too hoarse. Too intimate.
It rolls off his tongue like it belongs there.

Like he owns it.

My body instantly tenses, and I curse my bad luck for not
only propelling me to Montana and into the arms of this man, but also for
bestowing him with an arrogance that makes him way too observant.

“Whatever it is you want to say, don’t,” I mumble. “I can’t
deal with your kind at this point in my life. Not when everything’s finally
going according to plan.”

“My kind. Really?” He finally stands and then kneels at my
feet. His fingers begin to busy themselves with my swollen calf, applying a wet
towel. I wince when he touches the sore spot again. “Here we go. May I ask what
that is again?”

“Thank you for asking. I’ll be more than happy to enlighten
you. You’re the arrogant prick kind that seems to think a woman’s legs are
there to be pried open. And if you stomp on some hearts in the process, then so
be it. I bet it comes with the job description.”

“You have me all figured out, huh?” He stops and looks at
me, his eyes flickering with amusement.

I raise my chin defiantly. “You bet your ass I have.”

His eyes flicker again.

Big mistake to challenge him like that.

Why can’t I ever keep my mouth shut when it matters?

I want to take my words back.

Only, how?

“You still haven’t answered that one thing I want to know,”
Kellan says. His gaze is dark, hooded. I’ve no idea what the fuck he’s
thinking, and not knowing drives me crazy.

“I didn’t realize you had asked a question,” I remark.

“I never said I had. I keep wondering about something.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

His huge palms go around the sides of my face, holding my
head in place. His lips come close until his breath feels like soft butterflies
against my mouth. He’s towering over me, his proximity unnerving, but what
makes me hold my breath in anticipation of his next move is the way he looks at
me through those burning green eyes.

As if he wants to kiss me.

I want him to.

I want him to so bad, I feel myself leaning into
him—just for a second—but it’s enough to bring a wicked smile to
his lips.

“That’s what I thought,” Kellan says.

“You thought what?”

He’s going to say something stupid that’ll piss me off big
time. I just know it. And yet, I still want him to answer the question I
shouldn’t have asked.

“That you want me.” His tone is confident and nonchalant,
like there’s no way in hell he could have drawn the wrong conclusion.

Up until this moment, I could have denied it.

But the faux pas I’ve just made isn’t one I can take back.

Yes, I want him.

But we don’t always want what we need. What I need is
someone who’s reliable, someone with whom I can build a future if I fall in
love, someone who takes relationships seriously. Kellan’s the opposite of
commitment and stability. He’s the opposite of everything I’ve ever known.

I could easily fall in love with him, but rather than my
happy ending, he’d be my downfall.

He’s a beautiful distraction from reality with the prospect
of having one’s heart broken.

I raise my chin and stare him down with what I hope are
daggers of ice in my gaze.

He stays silent.

“All right,” I say. “Maybe I want you a little bit. You’re
not exactly hard on the eye, and I’ve had a bit of a dry spot.” I pause,
regarding him to catch his expression—a blink, a smirk, shock, anything
to give away that he might be affected by what I’m saying. “But just because I
find you attractive doesn’t mean I’m going to jump into bed with you. That’s
all.”

I pause again, waiting for his reply. The glint of amusement
never leaves his eyes as he just shrugs, seemingly uninterested to find out the
answer.

“Your point being?” Kellan prompts.

“I’m not interested,” I say coolly.

“See, that’s why we have a problem. I don’t believe you.” I
frown and he adds, “You’re in denial. I know you feel about me the way I feel
about you.” His fingers settle beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“I’m attracted to you, and yes, it’s all fun for me, but at least I’m being
honest. What irks me is that you’re not. The way I see it, you’re single, I’m
single. We’re both not looking for commitment.” He shrugs again. “No harm
done.”

Whoa.

He just won’t stop assuming.

I blink several times as his words keep circling in my mind.
“Who said I was single?”

“Your friend. Mandy.”

“I know her name,” I mumble, still staring at him. “You
asked her?”

“Didn’t need to,” Kellan says. “The moment she found out we
sort of met in front of Club 69, she basically blurted out your entire résumé,
in particular emphasizing the last three months of your life.”

He jiggles his brows at me meaningfully. I’m supposed to
catch his drift, which I do…unfortunately.

After I went to bed, they talked…a lot.

Mandy’s such a traitor! From now on, I’m going to
consciously unfriend her.

“What exactly did she say?” I ask warily.

Kellan laughs, the sound grating on my nerves, and I have no
idea why.

It’s not like there’s anything annoying about it. In fact,
it’s the most beautiful laugh I’ve ever heard. Too bad such a sexy voice and
amazing outer packaging comes with the shittiest character I’ve ever met.

“I could tell you, but what’s in it for me?”

“Nothing.” I stare at him. “I could ask her, you know. She’s
my best friend.”

“I don’t see her around. Do you?” He glances at me. “Haven’t
you been wondering why she’s gone AWOL?”

I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “I knew it,” I say slowly. “She
told you something before she left.”

“My lips are sealed.” He zips up his lips, the gesture so
funny I let out a laugh.

“Her attempt’s in vain. I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“You sure?” he asks. “I like it when you squirm.”

He’s so full of himself.

Struggling to keep calm, I draw a deep breath and let it out
slowly. “I don’t squirm.”

“Back there, on that horse, you did.”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” I say, shaking my head.

“Because you don’t have a case.”

I choke back a laugh. He’s challenging me. I can see it in
the way his mouth pulls up into a grin that’s so sexy I fear it’ll set me on
fire. I can sure feel it between my legs.

What could I possibly respond with when he’s right and he
knows it?

I
did
squirm
against him, and to be honest, I’m pretty sure, given the chance, my traitorous
body would do it again.

In the silence of the room, I watch him apply a lotion that
reeks of the usual hospital scent. “So, you’re a physician or trained in the
medical field?” I point at my ankle, eager to find out more about him.

“Nothing of the sort.” He wraps a bandage around my ankle.
“I’m just good with horses. They’re not so different from women.”

“Ah.” I nod in mock agreement. “You’re really charming.
Anyone ever tell you that?”

He laughs that raucous laughter of his. In spite of the
insult he’s just thrown at me, I find that I’m not insulted at all. I don’t
know why, but I wouldn’t have expected anything else from him.

“Horses are loyal as long as you take care of them,” Kellan
explains, ignoring my statement. “But their emotions tend to get the better of
them, and they’ll always put themselves first. They won’t hesitate to stomp
over you and desert you.”

His words catch me off guard.

His smile is still in place, but the dark glint hasn’t left
his eyes.

Something about his tone makes me think he was in a bad
relationship.

Maybe that’s why he is the way he is.

“I’m sorry that you think that way. But I can assure you,
not all women are the same.” I brush my hair back out of my face, wondering
what the heck happened to him in the past that he’d generalize the entire
female population.

Everyone has their closet full of emotional baggage. It
comes with the people we let into our hearts and lives. Obviously, I’m not here
to prove Kellan wrong, which is why I clear my throat and think hard on a
change in topic.

Through the kitchen window, I watch Sniper outside. He’s
sprawled out on the lawn, his head between his paws. From his relaxed posture,
I can tell he’s in doggy slumberland.

“He’s a good dog,” I say out of need to keep the
conversation rolling.

“He is.”

I turn back to regard Kellan. “You say you adopted him?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have nothing but time, as you must have gathered.” I
point at my ankle.

He lets out a laugh. “With a sprained ankle, you have
indeed.”

He puts the first aid kit aside and takes a seat beside me.
Together we turn to watch Sniper.

“He’s a military working dog who was supposed to be put down,”
Kellan says.

“Really? But why? He’s so sweet.” I cannot help but be
disgusted. “Besides, as a military working dog, he’s probably very useful.”

“He was.” Kellan pauses, hesitating. “Sniper was one of the
best in the service. He was trained to find booby traps, bombs and mines, track
enemy troops and missing persons. All you had to do was let him familiarize
himself with a scent and he’d run off and find the person. He was relentless.”
He shakes his head in admiration, his eyes lost in reminiscence. “He saved so
many soldiers. But then…”

I hold my breath. “But what?”

“His owner died in a bomb blast, and he stopped listening to
anyone.”

“He was supposed to be euthanized for not following?” I ask
incredulously.

“It was more than that. He started to attack people that got
too close. Every loud sound was traumatic for him. It got so bad, he wouldn’t
eat. He wouldn’t let anyone touch him. He wouldn’t work.” Kellan glances to me.
“He was deemed dangerous, uncontrollable, useless.”

“Until you saved him.”

He nods again. “I did because I felt that I had to.” His
voice is so low it sends a shiver down my spine.

“What do you mean?” I ask breathlessly.

He looks away, taking his time with a reply. His eyes are
glazed over as he stares into the distance, his mind a million miles away.

“Sniper’s owner was my best friend,” Kellan whispers at
last. “When she died, I felt like I owed it to her to take him in.”

I stare back at the dog, thousands of questions running
through my mind.

His best friend was female and she was a soldier. I can’t
imagine someone like Kellan being friends with a woman, and most certainly not
with one who fought for her country.

Heck, I can’t even imagine him living on a farm.

And yet, it seems to be the case.

It’s as if Kellan’s a completely different kind of person
than the one I imagined him to be. The flirtatious side of him is just the
beginning. I feel like I’ll have to peel back layers over layers, remove piece
by piece of him, to get to know him.

Maybe he isn’t as bad as I thought.

Maybe underneath the player he’s portraying, he’s a real
person with emotions, someone who is capable of forming meaningful attachments.

“I’m glad you adopted him,” I say softly. “And I’m so sorry
about your loss.”

He nods, and then the awful silence resumes.

“You’re cold,” Kellan says, misinterpreting the brief tremor
rocking my body. Or maybe he’s just as eager to drop the subject.

I nod, suddenly seeing my chance to escape this situation.

Our conversation.

Him.

“I’ll take you to the living room,” he says.

“No, Kellan.”

Ignoring my half-hearted protest, he lifts me off the chair
and carries me inside, only stopping when we reach the couch. Slowly, he sets
me down, arranges a few cushions behind my back, and then wraps a blanket
around me—the motion is so intimate, it makes me uncomfortable.

I don’t like a guy taking care of me because I fear that one
moment in the future when I involuntarily let my guard down, and his guard is
still up. Like any other human being, rejection doesn’t agree with me.

Kellan’s impossibly good looks aren’t the actual danger to
my inner equilibrium. It’s all the small things he seems to do and not make a
big deal out of. Like riding home with me and making sure I’m not freezing my
ass off.

Been there. Done that. Never again.

Just like him, I have my own emotional baggage. Just like
him, I’m not willing to try again.

“I’ll bring you something to drink,” Kellan says and heads
out of the living room, finally leaving me enough space to breathe.

In his absence, I relax against the cushions. The sun is
streaming in through the open curtains, bathing the mahogany wood in an orange
glow.

There’s something strange about this room. It’s too manly,
too rough. But there’s also a tenderness about it. It’s the décor, I decide.
The odd female touch in the form of a delicate picture frame and an empty glass
vase.

He used to live with someone. This someone is gone now.

My gaze is involuntarily drawn to the picture frame Mandy
inspected last night, and the blond woman in it.

He said she was his sister. Was he telling the truth? I’m
thinking of his best friend, a soldier. What were the odds that he was in a
relationship with her before her death?

He didn’t say it, but I could feel the sadness radiating
from him, the way was hard for him to talk. As soon as I said sorry, he closed
up.

His sudden change of topic only confirmed it.

“Sorry it took so long.” Kellan places a glass on the couch
table.

I didn’t hear him coming in, and so he catches me off guard.
My thoughts can’t possibly be written across my forehead, and yet I feel like
he can look right through me and see that I’m trying to figure him out.

“Thanks.” I grab the warm glass, eyeing the yellow liquid.

“It’s Riesling Hot Toddy,” he answers my unspoken question.
“Warm white wine with honey, lemon, and cardamom. It’ll warm you.” He points to
my ankle. “Is it still hurting?”

I shake my head and find that at some point the throbbing
must have stopped. “No.”

“Good. You should be able to walk again in a few hours.”

“I hope so. I mean, I don’t want to impose. We’ve already
overstayed our welcome.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kellan says and sits down next to
me. “Like I said, I enjoy your company. It’s a nice change.”

I bury my face in my drink, forcing myself to take slow,
measured sips. It tastes delicious, sweet, and refreshing.

 
“Do you live
here alone?” I avoid his gaze as I ask the question, afraid to give the
impression that I care.

“I do.” A slight pause. “Do you live alone back in NYC?”

Just like before, he’s avoiding talking about himself.
Either he’s the monosyllabic type, or he doesn’t want me to know too much about
him. Either way, I find his evasive nature rude.

“I don’t.” I stare at him, unwilling to say more. If he
wants to remain shrouded in mystery, then so do I.

The corners of his lips twitch. “I know. Mandy said you’ve
been living together since your first day of college.”

I grimace.

What else escaped her big mouth?

“She also said that you’re starting a new position next week
and that you have no time for relationships,” Kellan continues, seemingly
enjoying his advantage over me.

“I never said I didn’t have
time
for relationships. I just don’t want one.”

He nods, like he knows exactly how I feel. “Relationship
gone bad in the past?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally, I shake
my head. “Nope. Not really.”

It’s a lie.

Someone hurt me—bad—but I can’t tell him that.
He wouldn’t understand, not when I’m sure he’s probably broken thousands of
hearts.

His brows shoot up in obvious interest. “Not eager to share?”

I shake my head again.

There’s no way in hell I’ll disclose my romantic past to
someone like him. If I want to unburden myself, then I’ll listen to Taylor
Swift songs to feel better about all the things that have gone wrong in my
life.

“I’m a good listener.” Kellan leans forward, elbows propped
on his knees, as though his physical proximity could prove his point.

I frown at his sudden interest. “Why do you even want to
know?”

“Because I like to know about my competition.”

A simple statement. Just like that, he seems to think about
competition.

I laugh. “I doubt Kellan Boyd knows what competition is.”

“You’re right. I don’t usually have competition.” He
hesitates, which gives me the opportunity to regard him intently, trying hard
to read the sudden shadow crossing his features. His green gaze seems a shade
darker. Troubled. And determined.

I clear my throat and look away when his fingers clasp my
chin, forcing my eyes back to him. “I’m not afraid of competition, Ava.”

“I never believed you were.”

“Good. I won’t make a secret out of the fact that I always
get the woman I want. You won’t be the exception, Ava.”

His monumental ego is back.

I open my mouth, then close it at the way his mouth seems to
draw closer to me.

My breath is caged in my chest, waiting, expecting, fearing
that
one moment when his lips will crash
down on mine.

The world around us seems to stand still while my head
becomes a big void of nothingness, my senses straining to tune into him. He’s
so close. I can smell him. I can see the way the light reflects in his irises,
splitting it into different shades of green—all beautiful, all breathtaking.

“You’re different,” he whispers.

“How so?”

“I don’t know. Just different.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“I don’t know, either. Is not wanting me a bad thing?”

“You tell me.” I cock my head, a smile tugging at my lips.
“After all, you’re the one with the long list of conquests.”

“None of them matter,” Kellan says. “None of them get my
attention like you do.” He glances at me. “There’s something about you that
drives me crazy.”

“I believe it’s called rejection.” His eyebrows rise, so I
feel the need to clarify. “I rejected you, and now you think you have to
conquer me.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s more than that. I want you. I
want you like I’ve never wanted anyone before. I just can’t explain it…I can’t
explain you.”

My breath hitches, stolen by his words. When did things take
this turn? One moment he’s flirting with me, the next he’s saying something
like this. I’m not sure that I like the change.

“What are you saying?” I whisper, my voice shaking.

“I’m saying…” He hesitates. “I want to know more about you.
I want to know what makes you tick. And—” he pauses again, his eyes glued
to my lips “—I want to kiss you. To know if your lips are as soft as they
seem.”

All air swishes out of my lungs, as though it’s just been
knocked out of me. He’s waiting for my permission, I realize. “Is that a good
idea?”

“Only one way to find out.”

His hand moves to the back of my nape, pulling me softly to
him, and then his mouth meets mine in a slow, delicious kiss. Even though his
lips barely brush mine, the electric jolt running through me is all-consuming.
My nerve endings are on fire. My whole body is.

He holds me like no other. His kiss is balm for my soul.

The tip of his tongue slips between my lips, and I moan
against his mouth, the sound lost between us. He tastes manly and minty, his
hot breath burning me from the inside. The picture of those lips on my nipples
appears before my eyes—those lips traveling down my abdomen, kissing me.
My fingers are trembling as they brush the front of his shirt, the open palm of
my hand settling on his lower ribcage. His warmth is seeping through the thin
material, searing me.

I want to push my hand underneath his clothes to feel skin
against skin. To taste him the way I want him to taste me. But I don’t do any
of those things.

Because this one kiss is already my undoing.

His lips are doing unthinkable things to me, creating
feelings I have never had before. They remind me of a summer breeze, soft and
warm; of a winter tale that mesmerizes and entrances; of the wings of a
thousand butterflies, light and soundless, as they flutter around.

I wish I could stop this one moment, capture it, because I
know it won’t last.

Because a guy like him doesn’t stay in a woman’s life. He
breezes through and leaves only havoc behind.

I press my lips against him, over and over again, letting
his tongue meet mine in a slow dance. And then I can feel his hand traveling up
my inner thigh.

A delicious jolt travels through my clitoris and moisture
pools between my legs, readying me for what he has to offer. Only, I’m not sure
if I’m ready.

I squeeze my legs shut, but the friction only manages to
intensify the want inside me.

Too soon, Kellan pries his lips away from mine, his hand
withdrawing from my body.

I open my eyes and find him staring at me. He’s just as
breathless as I am. His eyes are dark, full of desire. His gaze is penetrating
every layer of me, reaching my core. “I’m not a patient man, Ava. But I can
wait if something’s worth waiting for.”

“Don’t do this.” My voice is shaking as I push him away and
stand, disgusted at just how desperate this man makes me. I have to get away,
but where could I possibly head without appearing like I’m running from him?

His fingers brush the back of my arm, and my breath catches
in my throat.

“You sound upset. I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have
kissed you.”

Coming from someone like him, his apology takes me by
surprise. I want to tell him that there’s no need to apologize. That I enjoyed
kissing him. But I can’t. I’ve been hurt so often that opening up is not an
option. I brush my fingertips over my lips. They’re still tingling, reminding
me of how good it felt to have his mouth against mine. They remind me that his
presence does something to me. My resolve is crumbling. I fear he’ll pull me to
him and I’ll give in, just because I miss the intimacy of having another body
against mine, inside me.

It’s been too long.

The attraction I feel for him reminds me of that.

I can feel the shift inside my head.

It’s not like I haven’t hooked up with guys before.

It’s not like I want him to put a ring on that finger.

I’m available. He’s available. Except, is he? Who’s the
blond woman in the picture on the fireplace? Why don’t I believe that she’s his
sister?

Because he won’t
elaborate.

Because the one man I
loved in the past lied to me. Told me the same bullshit story.

“Ava?” Kellan’s voice is a deliciously hoarse rumble.

What’s the harm indeed?

I’m not a cheater—that’s the harm. I won’t do to
others what others have done to me.

“I was in love with someone,” I whisper at last.

The words are out before I can stop them.

My reply has his instant attention. His shoulders tense; his
whole body does.

“He cheated,” I continue as I glance up at him. “He was my
first love. My first in everything. I gave him my whole heart, and he broke
it.” I take in Kellan’s face, expecting nonchalance, but there’s nothing
nonchalant about his expression. “Now you know why I reject you. It’s because I
won’t go through something like that again,” I say. “I’m sorry. It’s not
personal. It’s not you. It’s me. I’m so sick of guys who play with your
emotions. I won’t ever get hurt again.”

“I had no idea.”

I shrug and turn my back to him. “It’s okay.”

“Do you want me to beat him up? I’m good at it.”

His question takes me by surprise. “You would do that?”

“Give me his address and I’ll get it done.” He smirks.
“Actually, I don’t even need his address. His name will do.”

I let out a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

He returns my smile. “You might want to say it one more time
and see what happens.”

I sigh and touch his hand, squeezing it gently. It feels so
good, rough, as if life has shaped him, too. “No, thank you. But I do
appreciate the offer.”