Over the Fence (24 page)

She then went on and explained the steps Kourtney would have to follow in order to get a restraining order. Kourtney became more anxious, and the grip she had on my hand tighter with every passing moment—especially when Joanne told her the police could decide to arrest him if they determined it was necessary, even without an order.

“I’m not saying it’s going to happen. At the moment, this is only a private conversation,” she assured Kourtney. “But, I agree with Nathan. You need to do something. We can discuss other options—but we need him to stay away from you.”

“Can I think about it?”

Joanne met my gaze, as if sensing my frustration. “You can, but don’t wait too long. Don’t give him the opportunity of coming back at you.”

“He won’t get the chance,” I assured her.

Joanne smiled. “I’m glad she has you, Nathan. But you can’t be with her twenty-four hours a day. Think about it, but think hard, Kourtney.” She took out a business card and wrote on the back. “Here’s my number here and at home. Call me. Anytime.”

Kourtney accepted the card. “Thank you.”

Joanne shook her head. “I never understood how someone as sweet and kind as you, could be related to your brother. He was such a jerk.”

“Hasn’t changed much,” I informed Joanne. “He’s lucky I only escorted him out of the door.”

“Don’t give him any reason to press charges and leave Kourtney vulnerable, Nathan.”

That was a sobering thought. With my past, it was a good piece of advice.

“I’ll be careful.”

She rose to her feet. “I hope to hear from you soon.”

Kourtney was quiet in the car on the way home from the police station, the papers Joanne had given us clutched tight in her hand. I knew she was struggling with a decision, and I didn’t want to push her, but I couldn’t let her ignore it and give him a chance to hurt her again.

Looking over at her pale face, my chest ached with worry. I wasn’t exactly sure how to help her, except to be there for her as long as she would let me. I had a feeling she had been doing everything alone for so long, she wasn’t sure how to accept help.

I parked in front of my usual electronics store and squeezed her hand.

“I have to go get a few things to set up your TV and accessories. You want to come in with me?” I asked gently, searching her sad eyes. “If you don’t, I can see you the whole time I’m in there.”

“I’ll stay here.”

Leaning over, I kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded. I went in and grabbed what I needed, keeping one eye on the car. I knew the doors were locked and she was fine. Even if her brother appeared, I would get to her before he could even blink, but nonetheless, I was nervous. I had a feeling the events of the past couple days were about to break her open. I didn’t want her alone when it happened. I sighed in quiet relief when I was back beside her in the car.

Once inside the house, I placed everything down and looked at Kourtney. She looked unsure and lost, glancing around her home, as if she didn’t know what to do next. I embraced her, feeling a long shudder run through her. “You have questions,” she whispered into my chest.

“I do. But we can talk about it when you’re ready. Not before.” I looked down at her pale face. “I know this is a lot to deal with, Kourtney. I know you have questions, too.”

She looked at me, her voice unsure. “What are we?”

I smiled tenderly. “We’re whatever you want us to be—I want you in my life. I want to be in yours.”

“Why?”

I shrugged, unsure how to explain. “I wish you could see, that you could
feel
, what I do when I look at you. How you make me feel when you’re close.” I ran my knuckles down her soft cheek. “Then you wouldn’t have to ask. You would
know
.”

“I’m scared.”

I frowned. “Of me?”

“Of how you make me feel,” she admitted. “Of how very much I want you to feel the same way.”

I held her close to my chest. “Stop being scared, Kourtney. You don’t have to want it, because I already do. I care—very much.”

Her words were muffled. “Nobody ever cared.”

I tipped her face up. “As we’ve established already, I’m not nobody.”

We gazed at each other, and I knew I had to help her get past this moment. We would sit and talk later, but I needed her to find her feet again and get her head out of all the churning, sad thoughts she had in it.

Leaning past her, I grabbed the box of elbow macaroni sitting on the counter. “Is this for me, Chefgirl?” I asked teasingly. “It seems to me, someone promised me homemade macaroni and cheese the other day.”

She mock frowned. “I think someone asked, if I recall correctly.”

“But it’s for me, right?”

A smile broke out on her face. “Yes Nat, I’m going to make you mac and cheese.”

I grinned in triumph. “Perfect. Get to it, woman. I had to make my own breakfast, after all.”

She giggled as she grabbed the box from my hand. “Poor baby. I’ll have to make up for that, won’t I?”

“Damn right.”

“I’ll add a salad.”

I groaned and rolled my eyes. “I hardly consider
that
making up for anything. Now cookies or brownies—that would be making up.” I winked. “I bet you make fucking awesome brownies, don’t you?”

She nodded.

This was perfect. She needed to be busy and I knew she loved to be in the kitchen.

“Will you make them for me?” I pleaded in her ear, kissing the soft spot behind it. “Now?”

Her shiver made me smile, as did her breathless “
yes.”

Grinning, I dropped a kiss on her head. “I’ll go start working my magic and leave you to yours. I look forward to my rewards later.”

“I hardly call mac and cheese and some brownies a reward, Nathan.”

“That’s not what I was referring to.”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

I tilted her chin and kissed her, my tongue stroking hers languidly as I savored the feel of her mouth under mine. I dropped another soft kiss on her pink lips. “Those are treats, Kourtney. The reward is getting to spend the rest of the day with you, under the blanket on the sofa.” I lowered my voice. “All afternoon. All alone.” I nipped her bottom lip playfully. “Best fucking reward, ever.”

She was smiling when I left the room.

“I mean it, Kourtney; I’m never going back next door. I’m staying right here. I want you to make me mac and cheese every day.” I groaned, contented, as I set down my bowl, and leaned back in my chair.

Kourtney snickered. “I think you might get sick of it—eventually.” She lifted my bowl, inspecting it, then looked up with a grin on her face. “But are you sure you got enough, Nat? I’m sure there are a few noodles stuck in the pan. You could scrape them out if you wanted to.”

“I only eat so much to make you happy. I don’t want you to think I’m dissing your cooking or anything,” I informed her haughtily.

“Ah, that explains your voracious appetite.” She nodded with a smirk. “So kind of you. I take it you normally eat like a bird?”

I closed my eyes. “Yep. I nibble. All this effort is only for you.”

I was surprised but pleased when I felt her warm lips touch mine. “I appreciate the effort.”

My hand shot up, holding her face close to mine so I could kiss her. We shared indulgent, caring caresses; our lips moved together smoothly, our tongues touched in soft passes. Neither of us deepened the kisses, but we shared a quiet moment of sweet intimacy. When we drew apart, I opened my eyes and smiled into her wondrous gaze.

“Hi, Chefgirl.”

“Hi, Nat.”

“I like this even better than the hand-holding.” I waggled my eyebrows.

“Somehow I’m not surprised.”

I grinned, running my hand through her thick hair, enjoying the feeling of the soft curls. “I like your hair.”

Pink bloomed on her cheeks, like I knew it would. I stroked the warm skin. “I like this.”

The color deepened, running down her neck.

“I
like
you.”

Her teeth caught on her bottom lip and her eyes darted around looking everywhere but at me.

“Hey.” I waited until her eyes met mine again.

“I really like being able to kiss you.”

Her voice was quiet. “I like that, too.”

I kissed the tip of her nose. “Good. Because I don’t want to stop.”

I released her and got to my feet. “Now, you ready to come see my magic?”

“It’s all done?”

“Yep. I’ll go put in a movie and you can bring the coffee . . . and brownies?” I asked hopefully.

“Deal.”

“So there’s only one remote now?” Kourtney asked in delight.

I nodded; my mouth so full of dark chocolate decadence I couldn’t answer.

“Where did this come from?”

I swallowed and took a sip of coffee, trying to stifle a low moan of pleasure as the bitter of the coffee hit the sweet of the brownie and mixed on my taste buds. “I bought it this morning for you. It’s the same one I have. It’s much easier; you point it and hit the button for what you want to do. It turns on all the right components.”

She frowned as she looked at it. “I’ll probably fuck it up,” she stated sadly, glancing up at me. “I always fuck up these things.”

I threw my head back in laughter at her unusually colorful statement, leaned forward and kissed her warmly. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Can you fix it if I do?”

“I can. Don’t worry about it, Chefgirl. Between the mac and cheese and these brownies, I’m definitely not leaving. If you fuck it up, hand it over.” I took the device out of her hand and tapped on the remote’s face. She looked at the TV screen, confused.

“That looks like my front step.”

“It is. Now when someone knocks, you can see who’s there before you open the door. I programmed the blue key; touch it and it will do it all.”

She looked at me, shaking her head. “How?”

I shrugged. “The wonder of wireless technology. There’s a small camera over your front door now,” I explained. “It’s a safe thing to have, especially with all that’s happened. When it’s nicer out, I’ll wire up an intercom, too.” Then I pleaded. “Please accept it, Kourtney.”

She pursed her lips in silent indecision. Finally, she sighed. “Thank you.”

I clasped her hand in relief. I felt much better knowing this was installed. I handed her back the remote, explaining how to use it, then let her play with it for a few minutes as I sipped on my coffee.

I glanced with longing at the plate on the coffee table where the third brownie was still sitting. I knew she had brought me two and one for herself, but she had yet to touch hers since she had been too busy checking out her TV and equipment set up. She saw my look, and smiling, handed me the plate.

“That one is yours.” I pointed out.

“There are more in the kitchen. I made them for you, anyway.”

I set down my coffee and picked up the plate. “True, you did make them for me. I suppose, really
, I
am sharing with
you
. And
I
don’t feel like sharing right now.” I winked and grabbed the last brownie, grinning as I bit into it, enjoying her giggle. I offered her the rich treat “Bite?”

She leaned forward and took the corner in her mouth, pulling it off, and chewing; her eyes shut as she enjoyed the taste. I watched, fascinated, as her tongue flicked out to get the icing off the corner of her mouth and her throat moved as she swallowed.