Pamela Hearon - His Kind of Perfection

“Get your clothes.” Kale was grateful when she stepped away from him toward the truck. He’d had an overwhelming urge to rub her, too, but not quite in the same brisk manner she’d used. His touch would be slow and deliberate...and he wouldn’t stop at her arms.

Stop, the voice in his head warned. Don’t mess things up with Bree. She’s a great trainer, and she’s going to help you get what you really want. For the first time in his life, he would be somewhere long enough to see a plan through to its end. Buy the marina and then settle down with Addy.

With her gym bag slung over her shoulder, Bree hurried along with him to his apartment, putting off the grand tour until they both had showered and donned dry clothes. And after that, he put the tour off a little longer to take care of some business that was eating at him.

He led her back outside to the parking lot, which was now bathed in silver light from a three-quarter moon. “Do you really want the bricks back in the truck?”

Her shoulders sagged momentarily, but then she straightened as if something occurred to her. “If I leave them, will you use them to work out?”

“Scout’s honor.” He’d never been a Boy Scout—had never lived anywhere long enough to become active in a troop. But he’d pretended to be one lots of times. Fact was, he’d pretended to belong lots of times...to many different things.

Bree’s pleasure at his answer brought a warmth to both her smile and her eyes.

“Let me prove I’m not lying.” He pointed to the tailgate of the truck. “Sit. And don’t even consider moving.”

She did move, but only a little, and that was to cheer him on as he made trip after trip, delivering the bricks to the southwest corner of the parking lot.

Aware he had Bree’s undivided attention, he even skipped a couple of times.

* * *

A RHYTHMIC MOTION was Bree’s first taste of consciousness the following morning. It was a subtle movement, barely there, foreign yet familiar at the same time.

Her eyes flew open to unfamiliar surroundings. Unfamiliar green walls. Unfamiliar four-poster bed. Unfamiliar motor sounds.

Where was she?

She sat up and breathed through the first stage of panic as the fog of sleep lifted.

Oh, God! She was in Kale Barlow’s apartment. In Kale Barlow’s bed.

The clock on the table read 5:41 a.m. Dawn was barely lighting the sky, and yet she heard voices drifting through the window that was raised a smidgen. Boats coming in for gas. Fishermen, surely, at this time of day.

She flung her legs over the side of the bed, thankful to find herself fully clothed in the yoga pants and top she’d changed into. At least she hadn’t done anything more than spend the night.

Or had she?

A vague recollection of a kiss scampered through her memory. A sleepy kiss good-night that had felt completely natural as Kale had laid her down and tucked her into his bed. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to squish the memory from her brain, but it wouldn’t budge.

The details flooded back in glorious detail—or gory, if she looked at it from the standpoint Gil would take. He would tell her that staying for a supper of Kale’s grilled vegetables and chicken, enjoying a glass of wine afterward around his campfire and getting caught up in the old movie Top Gun was stupid and inappropriate, but last night none of it had seemed that way. It had simply been a nice way to unwind with a friend after a hard workout.

She hadn’t counted on falling asleep during the movie. Hadn’t counted on Kale carrying her to his bed and tucking her in so sweetly. And, Lord knows, she hadn’t counted on kissing him good-night in her dreamy state.

It was just a silly mistake, and certainly she and Kale both knew that.

But Gil wouldn’t.

Thea had planned to stay at her brother’s place last night, so if Bree beat her home, she’d be none the wiser...and neither would Gil.

Bree hit the floor at a run, grabbing her clothes that Kale had washed, dried and stacked on the dining table.

Wow, that was thoughtful of him.

The sight of the pillow and blanket on the couch sent a pang of guilt through her. Not because she’d spent the night, but because a guy the size of Kale couldn’t possibly have found a comfortable sleeping position on that couch.

She dashed out, yelling a goodbye to her host, who was talking to a fisherman while he filled his tank.

“Bree! Wait up!” He caught her as she turned the ignition switch and her dad’s old truck roared to life. “Don’t you want some breakfast?”

When she rolled the window down, he leaned on his forearms through the opening, his face just inches from hers. She kept her expression serious, directing an intent gaze his way. “I can’t, Kale. I’ve got to get going. And I want to assure you I don’t make a habit of spending the night in my clients’ homes.”

She started to apologize for the kiss, but then decided the less said, the better. Maybe it had been her imagination. Or maybe it was such a minor incident Kale wouldn’t even remember it.

His eyes told her he was going to say it before the words left his mouth. “So no kiss goodbye?”

She groaned and leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. That was totally inappropriate of me. I guess the wine took advantage of my exhausted state.”

He laughed, obviously delighting in her misery. “And you tried to take advantage of my exhausted state?”

“No!” Reluctantly, she raised her head to look him in the eye again. “But, if I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’ll be glad to refer you to Gil.” She didn’t add the action was sure to get her fired and maybe ruin her personal trainer career forever, at least in these parts. People around here speculated and then talked. Her fingers ached from gripping the steering wheel too hard.

Kale straightened and put his hands on his hips. “Damn, Bree. You think a little kiss that didn’t mean a damn thing is going to make me uncomfortable? I’m Addy’s man, remember? And I don’t want Gil for a trainer. I want you. Look at the progress we’re making.” He held his arms out and did a three-sixty turn for her.

“You are looking pretty good.” She wasn’t sure the weight loss had anything to do with her answer.

“Damn straight. So rid that pretty head of yours of any thoughts about trading me, you hear?”

Her grip on the steering wheel relaxed. “Yeah.” She gave him a smile. “I hear.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded and waved, part of her anxious to be on her way, yet another part wishing she could take him up on his offer of breakfast.

A weird mixture of happiness and melancholy settled on her as she drove back to Benton. The kiss notwithstanding, last night had been relaxing. She couldn’t remember when she had slept so hard or awakened so refreshed. Maybe it was being on the lake with the sound of the waves and the ever-so-gentle rocking of the building that made the rest of the world seem far away and her dad so near. Being at Dilly’s old place reminded her of good times when she’d been there often as a kid. And although a lot of things were different, it still felt like a good place to be. Kale had kept her laughing, and the improvements he wanted to make to the marina were impressive. It had been fun to listen to the excitement in his voice when he spoke of his vision for the place, like how someday he wanted to expand the property into a camping resort.

He had drive and a charisma that drew people in like nails to a magnet. Or was that part just her? She wasn’t sure. He didn’t talk about friends—except Beecher, whose family had always owned the marina just at the edge of Taylor’s Grove. She’d gone to high school with Sol, the current owner. And, of course, there was the ever-present-in-his-thoughts Addy.