Finding Kyle(25)

“Then that means you’re sedate, cautious with your words, introverted, and goal oriented,” Kyle throws at me.

“Something like that,” I say as I pick up my glass and take a sip of water.

“You’re not introverted though,” Kyle says as he cocks an eyebrow at me. “You pushed your way all up in my business.”

I laugh as I put my glass back down. Staring at it, I run a thumb over the condensation on the outside. “Well, I’m more introverted in crowds. Miranda would be the type who would dance on the tabletops at a party; I’d be in the corner by myself.”

“Life-of-the-party type of girl, huh?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had to pull her off a table or two at a party to prevent her top from coming off,” I tell him with a laugh. “She’s certifiably crazy, but I love her like a sister.”

Kyle nods and then asks, “You have any siblings?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Just Miranda, who might as well be. She had a rough time growing up and spent most of her time at my house, so my parents sort of treat her like she’s their daughter.”

And because I want to learn more about Kyle, I add on, “What about you… do you have any brothers or sisters?”

I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or not, but something painful flickers in Kyle’s eyes before he lowers his gaze to the table as he plucks at the edge of the tablecloth. He shakes his head, “A sister, but we’re not close. We don’t talk.”

“What about your parents?” I ask, choosing to leave the sister thing alone. “Are they still back in Maryland?”

“They’re dead.” His eyes lift back up to mine, and they’re clear. No hint of pain or anything. In fact, they are a little flat, and I don’t like that.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly as I reach my hand out to touch his.

“Don’t be,” he responds gruffly, quickly moving his hand away so we don’t make contact. “It was a long time ago.”

His message to me is clear. He doesn’t want to talk about his family. I have to respect that, at least for now. But I’m not willing to give up on this opportunity where I have him pinned to that chair for the duration of this dinner.

“Why did you move here to Misty Harbor?” I ask him curiously. “I can’t imagine it’s because you’ve always wanted to be a lighthouse keeper.”

I’m surprised when Kyle actually gives me a slight smile, causing him to appear relaxed again. “Just wanted a change of scenery and no… I didn’t really want to be a lighthouse keeper, but it sounded interesting and I thought I’d give it a try.”

“You said you’ve lived all over,” I mention. “Where were you before here?”

“Chicago. Before that Wyoming,” he says without giving any more detail.

“Never been to either,” I tell him with a sigh. “In fact, never been much of anywhere. Went to New York City once for a class trip, but past that, I’m sad to say I’ve not strayed from Maine.”

“Not even college?” he asks.

“Went to a school about forty miles away,” I tell him with a laugh. “I’m not very adventurous, I guess you could say.”

“I don’t know about that,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You certainly kept poking at this bear. That’s pretty damn daring.

“You’re a bear?” I ask teasingly, my head tilted to the side.

He nods, his eyes pinning me in place. “I have claws and teeth, Jane.”

“Is that a warning?’ I ask, now more curious than ever, even as a small ripple of fear runs up my spine over his words.

“Would you heed it if it was?” he counters.

“Nope.” I stare at him, refusing to let my gaze drop. He stares right back at me, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine, perhaps trying to figure out if I’m being brave or foolish.

Before I can answer, Miranda comes to the table, setting Kyle’s beer down before him, and our gazes disconnect. Kyle looks up to her and says, “Thanks.”

“Sure thing, hot stuff,” she says back to him with a grin, and then proceeds to lay our bowls of soup down before us.

When she leaves, Kyle picks up his spoon and gives the creamy soup a try. I watch him carefully, wondering how I can get the conversation back to where it was, because I want to test him. I want to see if he really wants to push me away or perhaps if he wants me to disregard the warning bells to keep after him.

But the moment is clearly broken when he asks me the most dreadful question imaginable after he swallows his bite of soup. “So, what’s your favorite movie?”

Really?

We’re going to talk about movies?

We’re going to have a boring, lame, and non-invasive discussion? He wants stupid details about me that don’t mean anything?

I suppress an eye roll as I pick up my spoon before telling him, “Forrest Gump. What’s yours?”

And I wait to see if discussing movies will provide an opening so I can try to learn more about him.

To find out if he’s really more grizzly than teddy bear, but I suspect I already know the answer to that.





CHAPTER 12




Kyle