Kyland (Sign of Love #7) (8 page)

I frowned. I was always the banker. But he was my guest after all. I handed him the tray of money.

"And I'm always the shoe," he continued.

Well, that was unacceptable.
"
I'm
always the shoe," I informed him.

"Oh no, uh uh. I'm
always
the shoe."

"Why would you want to be the old, grungy-looking shoe anyhow? Don't you want to be the luxury car?" I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to fake him out as I held the car up and swept my hand toward it in a lofty presentation.

"No. The shoe represents hard work. And hard work leads to riches. I'm always the shoe."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Why do
you
want to be the shoe?"

"Because the shoe looks unassuming. No one expects the shoe to come from behind and win it all. Everyone keeps a watchful eye on the luxury car . . . but not the shoe. That guy, he flies right under the radar, or
walks
as the case may be." I winked.

Kyland laughed, looking pleased. "I like that answer. I say we roll for it."

I grinned. "Deal."

I rolled first. Four.

Kyland rolled second. Three. He laughed. "All right. You're the shoe. Fair and square."

An hour later we had survived a stock market crash, were deeply involved in several land deals, and had passed "Go" more times than I had kept track of. Kyland was winning and I was not happy. I landed on another of his damn railroads.

He laughed and my eyes snapped up to his. "What's so funny?"

"I never would have guessed you to be so competitive, Tenleigh Falyn." He grinned, quite pleased with himself.

"Hrrmph," I grunted, counting out money for the railroads.

"Monopoly tip: always buy the railroads first."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're not winning so much that you get to give me winning strategy advice just yet, mister." I paused. "I never buy the railroads. Railroads are boring."

"Well, you should. Compared to the other properties, the flow of revenue from the railroads is more constant over time. Owning all four of them is a cash cow. You can use them to fund your other monopolies."

I glanced up at him, pausing. I tilted my head. I knew he was working toward the scholarship, but I hadn't realized just how smart Kyland really was. And suddenly it hit me—he couldn't stay here. He had to get out if he was going to utilize those smarts of his. Something that felt like deep sadness filled me, but I was confused. Being smart was not a sad thing—especially with the lack of it going on in Dennville, Kentucky.

"I shouldn't be giving you all these tips, but obviously," he swept his hand over the board indicating the fact that he was winning, "you could use them."

I laughed. "Asshole," I muttered. He laughed, too.

An hour after that, I was utterly bankrupt and practically seething. Kyland couldn't keep the amusement off his face. It was maddening.

Really, though, I hadn't had that much fun in forever.

"All right—I concede. You've officially wiped me out and hung me up to dry. Congratulations." I picked up the board and dumped the pieces into the box as Kyland laughed.

"If you're lucky, I'll give you a rematch."

"Hmmph."

There was a knock on my trailer door and I looked up, confused.

"Who is it?" I called.

"It's Buster."

"Buster . . ." I said, rushing to the door and opening it, a blast of icy air making me step back. "Get in here." Buster West was my neighbor, one of the oldest on the hill, a strange, but kindhearted guy who would bring us rhubarb by the basketful in summer.

"Hi there, Missy," he said, smiling and pulling his hood down.

"What are you doing out in this weather, Buster?"

"Just came to drop off a Christmas gift." He looked over at Kyland.

"Buster, do you know Kyland Barrett? He lives down the hill—"

"I surely do. Hi, son. How's your mama?"

"Hi, sir. Uh, she's okay. Doesn't get out much, you know."

Buster frowned. "No, don't reckon she does." He looked at Kyland for just a beat too long. What was that about? I looked over to Kyland and he had his hands in his pockets and was looking down at the floor.

"Ah, so, here you go." Buster held out something wrapped in white tissue paper. I took it from him.

"You didn't have to do this." I smiled uncomfortably, shifting on my feet. I knew exactly what this was and I didn't want to open it in front of Kyland. But Buster was standing there looking so pleased and expectant, so I unwrapped the tissue and held up the piece of whittled wood, trying my best not to cringe. I couldn't help the heat I felt making its way up my neck, though. Buster was a pornographic whittler. As far as I knew, he was making his way through the Kama Sutra. This one featured a woman kneeling in front of a man, giving him a blowjob as he yanked on her hair, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

Well.

"Wow, Buster. This is . . . very . . . romantic."

Kyland made a strange choking sound in the back of his throat and began coughing.

Buster smiled dreamily. "That it is," he said. But then his face grew concerned. "How's Annabelle?" he asked, referring to my mama.

"She's in the hospital again."

He nodded. "I figured. Saw her ripping out of here in that sash. I came straight across to get Marlo," he said, putting the "t" on the end of the word across as mountain folks did. "Poor girl was in the shower." He shook his head. "Glad they're gettin' her patched up."

Well, that was one way to put it. I just nodded. "Oh hey, I have something for you, too," I said, reaching for a small tin under the Christmas tree.

I handed it to Buster and he grinned. "Lavender tea. My favorite. You're a gem, Miss Tenleigh."

I laughed. "You're welcome." Truthfully, I made lavender tea for him whenever I could, not just at Christmas, because I knew he loved it. So it wasn't anything too exciting. But he was very sweet to act as if it was.

"Well, you two have a Merry Christmas." He pulled his hood up and smiled over at Kyland and then kissed me on the cheek, his lips cold and dry.

"You, too," I said.

I let Buster out and then looked over at Kyland, the smutty whittled art in my hand. "I've got a whole collection of them," I said.

Kyland threw his head back and laughed. I joined him. "I swear, that old man has a screw loose. But, I love him."

Kyland shook his head, still chuckling. "Can I see that?"

I handed him the figures and he looked closely at them, turning them this way and that. "Damn, Buster has mad whittling skills." He kept looking for a minute, seeming to remember suddenly that I was watching him. His face sobered. He cleared his throat.

I put the gift under my small tree and turned to Kyland, his expression intense and heated. My skin prickled and flushed with heat. I picked at the hem of my sweater. I didn't know how to address this tension between us. We were friends.
Right?

"I better get home, you know, in case my mama needs me."

I nodded. "Yes. Right. Of course." I glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost ten o'clock.

Kyland looked uncertain. "You sure you're okay?" he asked as he quickly put on his socks and stepped into his shoes.

"Yeah." I smiled. "I am now. Thank you." I looked down, feeling shy again for some reason. "Thank you so much."

He nodded, his eyes straying to my lips before he jerked them back up to my eyes again. We both moved at once, me toward the door to let him out, and him to his jacket that was now dry. He pulled it on.

I opened the door. "You be safe walking home," I said softly. "It's slippery, and—"

"Bobcats," we both said at once and then laughed.

Kyland sobered. "I'll be safe, I promise," he said, his eyes lingering on me again.

"All right."

"All right."

He took the two steps down until he was standing in the snow. "Lock the door behind me. When I hear it click, I'll go."

I nodded. "Good night, Kyland."

"Good night, Tenleigh."

I shut the door and clicked the lock into place. I walked slowly back to the couch, bringing the blanket around me as I sat staring blankly at our small Christmas tree. The trailer suddenly seemed too quiet and lonely. And something was wrong—something was niggling at my mind. I felt tense. I needed to do something, and I couldn't figure out what. Before I could though, my eyes grew sleepy. I lay back and in minutes, I was fast asleep.

I didn't wake up again until the light of Christmas morning was shining through the windows of our trailer, a chorus of winter wrens singing their greeting.

Kyland

It was snowing. I stood at the window looking out at what might have made another person sigh in wonder at the clean, white landscape. It didn't always snow on Christmas. Some would say this one was special. Not me.
Christmas.
Melancholy rolled through me and I did my best to tamp it down. It was just another day on the calendar. If I didn't pay any attention, it would have just rolled by. Today was really no different than any other day, except in my own mind. "Get it together, Kyland," I muttered to myself, taking another sip of hot coffee.

A knock sounded at the door and I startled slightly. What the hell? Who went to someone's house on Christmas morning? I frowned as I walked to the front door. "Who is it?" I demanded, on guard.

"Tenleigh." I blinked. Tenleigh?
Shit
. I paused for just a second before opening the door a crack.

She was standing there, her small Christmas tree in her hands, a paper bag with handles on her arm, a timid smile on her face, and snowflakes adorning her dark hair, a few caught in her thick eyelashes. Her cheeks were pink with the cold and her breath plumed in the air. She was stunning. I opened the door just a little wider so I could see her better.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. Damn, that sounded cold. But she needed to leave. She couldn't come in.

The smile disappeared from her face and she looked down for just a beat before raising her eyes to mine, and whispering, "How long has she been gone?"

My brows furrowed. "She? She who?"

"Your mama."

My eyes widened as we stood there staring at each other across the threshold. Snow continued to gather in her hair and on her dark jacket.

"What . . . why would you . . ." I started. But then I let out a big breath and ran my hand through my hair. "How'd you know?"

Her expression grew gentle. "There are never any lights on in your house . . . a few other things . . ." She shook her head. "I just guessed really." She bit her lip and my heart did something crazy in my chest. I brought my hand up and massaged it gently as if it was physical. "I'm sorry I was right." She paused. "I just figured if you were alone, you probably didn't have any Christmas here. And so I," she thrust the small tree out in front of her, "brought Christmas to you." She smiled hopefully.

I opened the door all the way and waved my hand for her to come in. Her smile grew bigger, relief filling her eyes as she entered my house. For a minute she just stood looking around and I shoved my hands in my pockets as I tried to see the place through her eyes. It was small and the furniture was old—the same stuff my mama had gotten from my grandma as hand-me-downs after my grandma died, stuff that wasn't nice then and definitely wasn't now—but I kept the place clean and uncluttered.

Tenleigh's eyes lingered on the armchair with the table next to it that held a photo of my mama . . . the one I'd put there initially because I hoped so hard she'd come back . . . the one I'd gotten in the habit of greeting. I really needed to take that down.

Tenleigh turned toward me smiling. "It's nice," she said. And damn it, my heart flipped over in my damn stupid chest again because I could see that she really, truly meant it and that was not acceptable. A girl like Tenleigh should see this place for the dump that it was. And she didn't. And something about that pissed me off as much as it filled me with some strange happiness.

"Can I take your jacket? Your Christmas tree? Your paper bag?"

She laughed and set the tree down on my coffee table as she shrugged off her coat. She flicked a switch on the tree. "Battery operated lights," she said. "We can put it anywhere." She arranged it on the coffee table to her liking and then stood up, looking down at it, that same unsure look on her face again. An awkward silence ensued.

She looked over at me. "I'm sorry, Kyland," she whispered, shaking her head slightly. "I'm barging in on you here. I just . . ." She bit her lip again. "What were you going to do today?"

"Watch some TV . . . study . . . wallow in loneliness."

She didn't laugh. I guessed she realized I hadn't been joking, although it was only her reaction that made me see that, too.

"You have TV?" she asked.

"Sometimes. When I have electricity."

She nodded and we were both silent for a second.

"What happened to her?" she finally asked very quietly.

I paused. I had never told anyone about this. I
couldn't
tell anyone. I hadn't planned on
ever
telling anyone. But right then, for some very strange reason, I desperately wanted to tell Tenleigh about it.

"She left us. A week before the mine accident."

Her eyes filled with sympathy, but she didn't say anything.

"My dad was so
embarrassed
." I shook my head and scratched the back of my neck, pushing those memories away, even as I revealed them. "So ashamed about it. He was such a prideful man. He made us swear not to tell anyone until he was ready. I think . . . I think maybe he was trying to come up with a story that sounded better than, 'she just didn't want us anymore.'" I paused. "Or maybe he was hoping she'd come back. My mama, though, she was never happy with our life. My dad, he didn't even have a high school education, didn't make much at the mine. They fought all the time." I ran my hand through my hair and grimaced. "See, Tenleigh, your dad left you when you were three days old, and that hurts because he didn't want to get to know who you are. But my mama, she knew me—she knew I loved her. And she left anyway."

"Kyland," she whispered.

I shook my head, unable to stop the words that seemed to be flowing out of my mouth of their own accord. "Then the mine accident happened and—" I took a deep shaky breath, surprised I could still get emotional about this. It felt like I'd lived with it for so long. But speaking of it was bringing it to life somehow . . . "They died and it seemed like every family up and down this mountain was grieving for someone. No one noticed that my mama didn't show up to any of the memorial services—or they figured she was sick with grief. Other people were, too. I waited for her to come back. I figured she had to have heard. She
had
to have. She must have known I was alone. I waited and waited for her to come back for me, but she never did." I took a deep breath. "I didn't want to be sent to foster care. I wanted the chance at that scholarship. I wanted a chance at . . .
life
. And the only way I was going to get it is if I kept working toward it. And so when people asked, I said she was laid up." I shrugged.

"No wonder," she said sadly.

"No wonder what?"

"No wonder you hate it here so much."

I stared into her eyes.

"You don't have to be lonely anymore." She reached her hand out and grabbed mine, a look of sorrow in her eyes. Her hand was cold and soft. It felt small within my own.

"Tenleigh . . . you don't understand. Whether I win that scholarship, or whether I don't, I'm leaving here. In a few short months, I'm leaving. If by some small chance I don't win that scholarship, I'll sell everything of any value in this house and I'll hitchhike out of here. I'll get a job somewhere and work my way across the country. I won't stay here. No matter what. I can't work in that mine. And I can't be hungry anymore. I'll leave here, and I won't look back. I'll never think about Dennville, Kentucky again."

Her eyes wandered over my face for several beats before she nodded, releasing my hand. "You already said that. And I told you that's okay."

Jesus. This girl.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"I really, truly mean it. You have a friend." She smiled at me hopefully. And yet something moved behind her eyes.

Friends. Yeah. That's what we'd decided. It hadn't made me happy last night and it didn't make me happy now.

The molecules in the air surrounding us seemed to speed up and heat the space around our bodies. "So," she said brightly, "I brought you a Christmas present."

I slowly raised an eyebrow, trying to shake off the heat that had started buzzing through my system. I wanted her. I wanted to strip her naked. I wanted to thrust into her, hard and fast, and watch her face as I did it. I wanted to know what she was thinking as my body filled hers. I wanted to hear her talk, hear the way the Kentucky twang she tried to hide became more pronounced when she was emotional in some way. I wanted to see that fiery side of her that only came out every once in a while, like a sudden and stunning bolt of lightning racing through a clear, cloudless sky. I wanted to take her virginity—and not gently. I wanted to hurt her like she was hurting me each time I looked at her. I wanted to mark her, claim her, let everyone know that she belonged to me and
only
me.

Fuck!

No.

No.

No.

I couldn't let myself think
any
of that. I was leaving here and I was leaving Tenleigh behind. That was that. I wasn't such a jackass that I would de-virginize her and then split town never to contact her again. I wouldn't do it—not to her or to myself. I wanted a fresh start. I didn't want to leave any part of myself in Dennville. I had worked four fucking years for that. And it was right within my grasp. A beautiful girl with a spirit so bright I wanted to squint when I looked at her was not going to derail me now.

She took something out of the paper bag she'd set on the floor and looked at me quizzically. "That's a really intense look on your face."

I snapped to the present. "Sorry. Just thinking."

Tenleigh cocked her head. "Can we try not thinking today? Just for today? Can it be like last night when we just enjoyed each other? That wasn't so bad, was it?" She looked up at me through her lashes.

"No, that's the problem. I'm going to want more."

She blinked at me.

"Shit, Tenleigh." I ran my hand through my hair and turned away from her. "This isn't . . ." I sighed loudly. "What do you have for me there?"

She suddenly looked uncertain. "Uh . . . well," she stared down at the small object wrapped in tissue in her hands briefly and chuckled uncomfortably, "this suddenly seems weird."

I raised an eyebrow. "Now I really want it." I reached my hand out and she hesitated, but then put the object in my hand. It looked similar to the one Buster had given her the night before. I paused. It couldn't be . . . I unwrapped it quickly and sure enough, one of Buster's erotic whittles was sitting in my palm: a woman on all fours as the man fucked her from behind, his hands gripping her hips, her back arched. And damn if it wasn't outrageous, but damn if it didn't turn me the hell on. And damn if I didn't want to do that very thing to the girl standing in front of me. Here. Right now. I felt my body twitch.

I looked up at Tenleigh who suddenly looked mortified. "I have a whole collection," she said. "I thought you might get a laugh out of it." Her words faded as we stared at each other. She couldn't know how much this would turn me on. She wouldn't have given it to me had she known how much I wanted to carry out exactly what had been whittled by Buster.
With
her.
To
her. I glanced back down at the figures.

And then I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing, the ridiculous object just sitting in my hand. Tenleigh laughed, too, tentatively at first and then harder as we both stood there cracking up. Finally I gathered myself enough to walk over to the kitchen window and place it there. Perfect.

I walked back over to Tenleigh, smiling. "Thank you. Seriously." And I meant it. She hadn't set out to give me a homemade piece of whittled wood. She'd set out to make me laugh. And she had. And for me, that was the best gift of all.

"I brought a ham, too," she said, nodding to the paper bag. "Al gave one to all the full-time employees. My sister got one." She smiled. "Maybe we can heat it up later?"

"Sure, that—"

Before I even had time to fully answer, she clapped her hands together and I startled, my words cutting short.

"Sledding!"

"What?"

"Sledding. That's what we could do today. Marlo and I used to find a couple tire inner tubes in someone's front yard and go up the hill a ways—I know some of the best spots."

I stared at her. "I bet I know some better ones. My brother and I used to do that, too."

She grinned and tilted her head. "Really? I'm surprised we never ran into each other."

I laughed softly and shook my head. Only Tenleigh had the ability to turn my mood from one extreme to the other. How had it been that I was just telling her about one of the most traumatic things I'd ever experienced and now I was laughing?

"I guess it's as good an idea as any. What else are we gonna do?"

"Right." We stood looking at each other for a minute until she shrugged and said, "So . . . ready?"

"Yeah." But I stood frowning for a minute. "I'm gonna have to get you some of my brother's snow stuff. You'll have to roll it up and we'll have to improvise on a few things, but . . . I only have one set for myself."