I see something different though.
I see a man who wants something for himself but is too afraid to take it. He's afraid of failure.
So I throw my shoulders back, determination forging my spine into steel, and I vow to myself I'm going to get through those walls he just put up around himself, no matter what it takes.
CHAPTER 14
Kyle
I take one last glance around the living room, my eyes purposely avoiding Jane's painting, and I'm satisfied. I've always been a bit of a slob when it comes to my living quarters, and I guess that comes from the last three years pretty much living in the shit hole of the Mayhem's Mission clubhouse.
But in this little house that attaches to the lighthouse by a covered walkway, I have a duty to keep it neat and clean, not only because it doesn't belong to me, but also because the stupid fucking historical society wants to give tours during the summer. I'm not sure why a tour includes my cottage, because it's just that... a cottage. I'm guessing for the five dollars they charge for admittance, they have to include something other than the thirty-three steps of spiral staircase that leads up to the rotating light. Probably want to show the charm of coastal seaside living or some shit like that.
Today is the first tour and I've got to get lost, which is fine by me. When Joe arranged for this "job" for me, I was asked to be the one to give the tours. I think my answer was something like "no fucking way." However he got this job nailed down... however he got it all worked out... all I have to do is ensure the cottage is clean and tidy every Saturday for the rest of the summer. I figure that's the least I could do since this job is a cakewalk anyway. Outside of the repairs and maintenance, which are all pretty much done, all I have to do is ensure the light stays on. With a backup generator, that pretty much ensures I have squat to do while watching the lighthouse.
Patting my back pocket, I note my wallet is in place and I snag my car keys off the small table by the front door. No clue how to keep myself busy all day away from the cottage, but figure it will include multiple beers at The Lobster Cage. Pulling the front door open, I start to push at the screen door and come to a dead halt when I see Jane standing on the other side, her hand raised and poised to knock.
"Hey," she says in surprise, and I'm struck for a moment just staring at her beauty. Hair in a ponytail, a pair of cutoff jean shorts, and a vintage orange Crush t-shirt. She's got a satchel-like purse hanging on the diagonal across her chest, the canvas strap cutting through her cleavage, and I have to force my eyes upward.
She smirks at me when they land on her face.
"What are you doing here?" I ask as I push through the screen door. She takes a step back to give me room.
As I turn to lock the door, she says, "Thought I'd come see what you were doing today. Figured maybe you'd like to take a ferry ride across the bay to Bar Harbor."
I secure the lock and turn back to her, stepping to the side to let the screen door swing shut. "I was on my way to The Lobster Cage to have a few beers."
She holds her wrist out and glances down at her watch. "It's 9:30 in the morning."
"They open at eight," I point out. I found since moving here that fisherman like to drink and that means Gus keeps the bar open most of the time.
"Seriously, Kyle," Jane says in exasperation, and I'll admit... it's cute. Even that eye roll she just gave me. "You totally don't want to waste your day in a bar when you could be spending it with me."
I raise a dubious eyebrow.
"Because," she finishes with an impish grin. "As I'm your only friend here, it's my duty to show you the surrounding sights. Bar Harbor is amazing, and there's a great bookstore there I thought I'd show you, and then, if you wanted, we could hike a bit over in Acadia National Park."
And fuck if that doesn't sound a hell of a lot better than sitting in a drab bar all day.
But still... I have to consider this carefully. First, I don't want Jane to get the wrong impression if I agree to spend the day with her. It will have to be just as friends. And second, I have to weigh the risk. While there's no proof that anyone is really looking for me, there is safety in being in a small town. If someone had located me and were watching, they'd be a lot easier to recognize here than in Bar Harbor.
"Come on, Kyle," Jane says with an exaggerated whine. "I don't want to go over there by myself. Miranda's working and my parents are doing yardwork, so if you don't go, I won't, and I'll be stuck planting petunias all day at their house."
Hmm... well, it does sound like she's only viewing me as a friend. And apparently a friend who's low on the list, as she'd considered spending the day first with Miranda and secondly with her parents.
Now I'm not sure how that makes me feel. I should be relieved, but part of me is a little put out by that. I mean, it was just four days ago she'd her hand pressed up against my dick and it felt so good I was afraid I'd make a fool of myself.
Whatever.
"Alright," I grudgingly say, although I'd be lying if I didn't admit to at least myself that I was excited about the prospect of spending the day with Jane. While I still believe I made the right call in pushing her away the other night, it didn't mean I was happy about it. Jane has brought a tremendous amount of brightness into my life the last few weeks, and she has made the hiding out and waiting at least bearable. As long as I can keep my hands to myself, why not take advantage of that brightness today?
I peer over the edge of the book I have opened in front of me and look at Jane. She's sitting across from me in a big, mushy-looking chair with her back pressed up against one arm and her legs thrown over the other. She's reading a book she'd bought about fifteen minutes ago. After we both purchased coffees, we decided to have some quiet time to read in this pretty amazing bookstore she brought me to. It's massive with rows and rows of books, but it has little alcove sitting areas all around where you can enjoy your spoils or peruse potential purchases. Jane had also bought a big cinnamon roll, and I will admit it may have been a little torturous watching her lick her fingers when she was done, but then she settled into her chair quietly and she's been ignoring me ever since.
It does appear that she took me at face value and is accepting the friendship boundary I put in place. She seems to be her usual quirky self, throwing movie lines at me when the situation presents. The first one came on the ferry as we got out of my truck that was parked with several others that were catching the ride across Frenchman's Bay to Bar Harbor. She'd put her sunglasses on her face, pushed them up the bridge of her nose, and said, "Roads? Where we're going, we don't need roads. Back to the Future. 1985."
I couldn't fucking help it. Of course, I laughed. She gave me back a sparkling grin, and I thought perhaps this might be a very good day.
But sadly, the more I'm around her, the more I'm hating the boundary I put in place. I can smell her subtle perfume, which is as light and airy as her personality, and I can see the bare skin of her legs and how it glows, and I know damn well it would be as soft as silk if I touched it, and Jesus fucking Christ... this just sucks.
Jane's head tilts to look at me, and she totally busts me staring at her over the edge of my book, which is some crime thriller I'd picked up.
Before she can even say anything to try to embarrass me for my blunt perusal, I nod at her book and ask, "What are you reading?"
Keeping her thumb inside the pages to hold her place, she turns it around and shows me the cover. It's of a bare-chested man giving a smoldering look to the camera.
I look back to her and smirk.
"What?" she asks defensively. "I like romance books. So what?"
I hold one hand up, palm raised to her in defense. "Hey. I didn't say anything."
"No," she mutters. "But you had that look."
"What look?" I counter, but I know damn well what look I gave her.
"That totally judgey look people give you when you read romance," she huffs.
"I have no clue what you're talking about," I tell her truthfully. I merely
thought it funny she was reading a book with a half-naked guy on the front. "Why do people judge you for reading romance?"
Jane swings her legs off the chair arm and plants her feet, leaning toward me a bit. "Many people think this stuff is just fluff. It's not literary. Waste of time to read and it's for simpleminded people."
"You are in no way simpleminded," I point out. That's the honest fucking truth as I think Jane's about as bright as they come.
Jane holds the book out and waves it. "I read this because it makes me feel good. It transports me out of my reality and gives me all the feels."
I eye the cover dubiously. "All the feels?"
"About love and romance," she says dreamily, and I have to force myself not to grimace. "I know that's a girl thing, but the authors who write this stuff? They really know how to reach you down deep into the center of your chest."
"If it's all about love and feeling emotion," I have to ask, "then why does it look like it's about porn on the cover?"
Jane's eyes flick down to the cover, and she gives a shrug as she looks back up to me. Holding the book out for me to inspect the cover again, she says with a grin, "You got to admit. It's eye catching."
I give a short bark of a laugh, cognizant though that I'm in a bookstore, so it's not overly loud. "I could see why it caught your attention."
Jane leans a little closer to me and says in an almost conspiratorial tone, "While I read these books for the romance and the relationship, not going to lie... there are some smoking hot sex scenes in some of these books."
And if that's not a punch to the fucking gut. Thinking about Jane reading about sex. About hot, sweaty, dirty sex. And wondering then what she might do when she's alone, reading about hot, sweaty, dirty sex.
I shift uncomfortably in my chair and give another nod toward the book. "I've never read a romance, and without a doubt never will, but really... how many ways can a love story be told?"
"Oh, hundreds and hundreds," she says quickly. "No, probably thousands and millions. I mean, the characters are different, settings different, plots are different."
I'm betting the sex is different too, as I personally know there are hundreds of ways to have an orgasm.
"You believe in that stuff?" I ask, another nod to the book.
"You mean love?" she returns, her head tilted in confusion.
"Love, romance, soul mates," I say in a dismissive tone.
"I do," she says simply. "Don't you?"
"Nope," I answer quickly and with utter honesty. My views on relationships are so fucking whacked based on what I've been immersed so deeply in over the last several years. I don't have much faith in people or in love.
"Ah," Jane says knowingly, her eyes turning soft. "You've had your heart broken before."
I blink at her in surprise and sit up straighter in my chair. "Actually, I haven't."
Never had my heart broken... but it had absolutely turned to stone fairly early on in my days with Mayhem's Mission. It was a necessary means to survive because I'd have never been able to make it through all those years of crime and depravity if I left open any soft spots to knock me off course.
"You've never been in love?" Jane asks softly, pity written clearly on her face over my suspected answer.
But I decide to deflect. "Why? Have you?"
Her mouth opens to answer, then it snaps shut. Her eyes seem confused, and she glances down at the book.
"Jane?" I prompt, because she looks like someone kicked her best puppy.
Her gaze slowly slides up to mine, and she looks at me sheepishly. "I was going to say 'yes,' I have been in love before. With Craig--that creeper you helped me with that day at the festival. But then I just realized... what I felt for him is nothing like what I feel when reading these books."
"Maybe because what you're reading is fiction," I suggest. Because that makes the most sense to me.
Jane shakes her head adamantly. "No. I mean... yes, this is fiction, but it's also real. This is what love's supposed to feel like, and it just hit me... that's never what I felt with Craig."
While it is absolutely none of my business what Jane had with her ex-boyfriend, for some weird reason, I feel strangely fulfilled by her proclamation she never loved that douche. And also a bit sad, because Jane is the type of woman who should experience whatever it is in those books that brings such a smile to her face.
She absolutely deserves something good. Because it's nothing but a pipe dream for me to hope I could be the one to give it to her, I firmly put it out of my mind and go back to reading the crime thriller in my hands.
CHAPTER 15
Jane
Today was a really good day, but it was painful too. I had an amazing time with Kyle, and I watched him come out of his shell more than ever as we acted like tourists. After coffee in the bookstore, we visited several local artisan shops and galleries. We then had a lunch of thick deli sandwiches and decided to drive Park Loop Road, which enabled Kyle to have a taste of Acadia National Park. The scenery, as always, was stunning and reinforced one of the many reasons why I continue to live in this area rather than go out and explore the world.
Kyle seemed to really enjoy the day. It's almost as if he "needed" to relax. Once he gave into it, I got to see more of his wit and humor as the day went on. Not to sound too cheesy, but he was kind of like a flower that bloomed under the sun.
But it was painful to me as well, because it only made me like him more. I had suspected there was more behind those walls he'd erected, and the more he showed it to me, the worse I felt because I'd never get to really touch the real Kyle. Because he's insisting we are nothing but friends, I'll only have him on the most basic and shallow level.
We catch the last ferry back to Misty Harbor. The sun is setting as Kyle drives his truck off the dock. I'm hungry and I'd like to suggest we go grab dinner, but I'm hesitant to do so. I don't want him thinking this is me pining for another date--which makes me look pathetic--and I have a feeling he's probably had about as much friendship frolicking fun as he can handle for one day. He's slipped back into his quiet mode, not having said much on the ferry ride.
So I remain quiet as we drive down Front Street, staring out the passenger window at the point where Misty Bay meets the Atlantic. The sky still has some pale pink up high, but the horizon is already purplish-gray, signifying dusk has arrived on the East Coast. The lighthouse comes into view, its revolving strobe winking at me on each half-turn. The lighthouse has always made me feel a little sad as it stands tall and alone, removed from the rest of the town because its duty is first and foremost to protect the incoming water vessels. It reminds me a little of Kyle, actually.
When Kyle turns onto Gray Birch Street, which borders the south side of my house and intersects with Cranberry, I reach to the floorboard and grab my purse, preparing to exit the vehicle after a quick and friendly goodbye. While in my very own romance novel, Kyle would pull me back and kiss the hell out of me, I know that's not going to happen because he's drawn a line in the sand, and it's not likely he'll cross it. He seems like a determined man in all things, and wishy-washy doesn't describe him at all.
Kyle pulls into my driveway. Before he comes to a complete stop, I grip the door handle, prepared to make flight. I'm totally shocked to inaction though when he shoves the truck into park and turns off the ignition.
What the hell does that mean?
"I'll walk you up," he says as his gaze rests on my front porch. "You didn't leave your light on."
Oh, okay. Safety. He's being a gentleman. A good friend, so to speak.
I don't respond, just open the door and hop out of his truck. My hands go into my purse for my keys. By the time I have them, I've rounded the front of his truck and we head to the porch steps in silence.
Kyle follows behind me, and even though I know he's merely being polite, my skin starts to tingle over the memories of our first kiss that occurred right here five days ago.
I don't have a screen porch door the way Ky
le does, so I'm able to quickly unlock it and push the door open a few inches. With my hand still on the knob, I turn to Kyle with a hammering heart because if he's going to do something, now is the time.
"Well, hope you had some fun today," I say with a cheerful smile, but I'm sure with undisguised hope in my eyes.
Kyle's own gaze is soft, and I know he sees what I feel. He nods and gentles his voice for my benefit. "Yeah, I did. Thanks for inviting me."
I wait, because if he's going to kiss me, it should be now. But he only stares at me a moment more before tipping his head. "Good night, Jane."
My heart sinks in disappointment, because those words ring with finality. Still, I put on my bravest smile. "Good night, Kyle. See you around."
I get a long, thoughtful look before he gives me a small return smile. "Yeah, see you around."
Kyle turns and jogs down my porch steps. I step inside, close the door, and lean my back against it. Shutting my eyes, I let out a long-suffering sigh. I am all kinds of stupid to let myself get caught up with him. I reason to myself that it's only because he's intriguing, incredibly hot, and he'd be a great summer diversion, knowing those are all legitimate reasons to crush on someone. But if I'm honest with myself, I know it's because there's something about him that speaks to me on a deeper level. While he's still as much a mystery as he was the day I met him, I realized something about him today as I tried to unobtrusively observe him.
As I watched him loosen up, start to unwind, laugh a little more easily, I realized that Kyle was like a sponge, soaking up the goodness of a simple, yet ordinary day. We didn't do anything more than visit a few shops, eat some food, and drive around to look at scenery. It was low pressure and spontaneous, but it was just ordinary living. And as I watched Kyle soak it up... no, savor it... I realized that he's not had this in a very long time. Hell, maybe he never had it.
But I could see it written all over him.
He wanted it and he wanted it badly.
I open my eyes. With another sigh, I start to push away from the door.