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he ll make me hurt her, maybe kill her.
That san excuse, he hammered on her. The truth is that you re scared.
I stood in the hallway and trembled, feeling the tension rise in the unseen room. But Kisten s voice was
gentle now that he d gotten her to admit her feelings. You should tell her that, he continued softly.
Ivy sniffed, half in sorrow, half in bitter amusement. I just did. She s in the hall.
I sucked in my breath and jerked upright.
Shit, Kisten said, his voice panicked. Rachel?
Pulling up my shoulders, I raised my chin and went into the kitchen. Kisten scuffed to a halt in the hall,
and tension slammed into me. His lanky build, wide shoulders, and my favorite red silk shirt took up the
archway. He had on boots, and they looked good peeping from under his jeans. His bracelet felt heavy
on me, and I twisted it, wondering if I should take it off.
Rachel, I didn t know you were there, he said, his face creased. I m sorry. You aren t a toy that I
have to ask Ivy s permission to play with.
I kept my back to him, shoulders stiff while I opened the canvas sack and took things out. Leaving the
cheese, mushrooms, and the pineapple where they were, I strode to the pantry, hanging my grocery bag
up on the hook I d nailed in yesterday. Images of Ivy s comfortable room, of Kisten s face, his body, the
way he felt under my fingers, the way he made me feel, all flashed through me. Pace stilted, I went to the
stove and took the lid off the sauce. Steam billowed up, the rising scent of tomato making the wisps of
my hair drift. I stirred without seeing as he came up behind me. Rachel?
My breath came out, and I held the next one. I was so confused.
Softly almost not there Kisten put a hand on my shoulder. Tension slipped from me, and sensing it,
he leaned until his body pressed against my back. His arms went around me, imprisoning me, and my
motions to stir the pot stilled. She knew the moment I came in, I said.
Probably, he whispered into my ear.
I wondered where Ivy was if she had stayed in the living room or fled the church entirely, shamed that
she had needs and fears like the rest of us. Kisten took the spoon from me, setting it between the burners
before turning me around. I pulled my eyes to his, not surprised to see them narrow with concern. The
glow from the overhead light shimmered on his day-old stubble, and I touched it because I could. His
arms were about my waist, and he gave a tug, settling me closer into him. What she can t say to your
face, she ll say when she knows you re listening, he said. It s a bad habit she picked up in therapy.
I had already figured that one out, and bobbed my head. This is a mess, I said, miserable as I looked
over his shoulder to the dark hallway. I never should have
My words cut off when Kisten pulled me closer. Arms about his waist and my head against his chest, I
breathed deeply the scent of leather and silk, relaxing into him. Yes, he whispered. You should have.
He pushed me back until I could see his eyes. I won t ask, he said earnestly. If it happens, it happens.
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I like things the way they are. His expression grew sly. I d like it better if things changed, but when
change is too quick, the strong break.
My eyes on the archway, I stood and held him, not wanting to let go. I could hear Ivy in the living room,
trying to find a way to make a graceful entrance. The warmth of his body was soothing, and I held my
breath against the thought of his teeth sinking into me. I knew exactly how good it would feel.What was I
going to do about that?
Kisten s head came up an instant before the peal of the front doorbell echoed through the church. I got
it! Ivy shouted, and Kisten and I pulled apart before her boots made a soft brush down the hall. The
light flicked on in the hallway, and I heard the beginnings of a low conversation. The mushrooms needed
cutting, and Kisten joined me as I washed my hands. We jostled for space at the sink, bumping hips as
he pushed me into a better mood.
Cut them at an angle, he admonished when I reached for the cutting board. He had his hands in the
flour bag, then clapped them once over the sink before putting himself at the center island counter and the
ball of dough he had set to rise under a piece of linen.
It makes a difference? Still melancholy, I moved my stuff to the opposite side of the counter so I could
watch him. David? I shouted, eating the first mushroom slice. It was probably him, seeing as I d asked
him to come over.
A low noise escaped Kisten, and I smiled. He looked good over there. A brush of flour made a
domestic smear on his shirt, and he had rolled up his sleeves to show his lightly tanned arms. Seeing him
gently handling the dough and watching me at the same time, I realized the thrill was back the delicious
danger of what-if. He had told Ivy he wasn t going to walk away from me; I was on dangerous ground.
Again.
God save me.I thought in disgust.Could I beany more stupid? My life was so messed up. How could I
just stand here and cut mushrooms as if everything was normal? But compared to last week, maybe this
was normal.
My attention came up when David walked in ahead of Ivy, his slight build looking blocky before her
sleek grace. Hi, David, I said, trying to clear my mind. Full moon tonight.
He nodded, saying nothing as he took in Kisten casually pulling the dough into a circle. I can t stay, he
said, realizing we were making lunch. I have a few appointments, but you said it was urgent? He smiled
at Kisten. Hi, Kisten. How s the boat?
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