Finding Kyle(55)

I sigh. I love Miranda so very much, but I don’t think she’ll ever grow up. I’m pretty confident she’ll never settle down, and I’m outright positive she won’t get involved with a guy seriously. After what her parents went through and the public spectacle it made, she’s about the most anti-commitment person I know.

Well, other than Kyle.

“For example,” Miranda says dramatically and nods her head at something behind me. “That guy right there totally needs to be warming my bed.”

I roll my eyes but turn in the booth to look behind me. There’s a man sitting at the end of the counter, drinking a cup of coffee and looking right back at Miranda. He quirks a pair of sexy lips and nods at her. I can feel Kyle shift in the booth as he looks back as well.

We both turn back, Kyle’s head tipping down again to read the newspaper and me rolling my eyes at Miranda. “Seriously?”

Miranda is still staring at the guy and her look is blatantly inviting. Without taking her eyes off him, she addresses me, “Oh, come on, Jane. I get you got your own hottie sitting next to you, but that guy is perfectly delicious. Leather jacket, goatee, tattoos. Total biker badass, and that is right up my alley.”

“He’s no biker,” Kyle says in a low but authoritative voice, never looking up from the paper.

“Excuse me?” Miranda says, her eyes now sliding over to Kyle with curiosity.

He looks up and shrugs. “He’s not a biker. Not like what you’re thinking. All rough and dangerous and slightly criminal. Sure, he might ride recreationally, but he’s not the type of badass you’re looking for, if that’s really what you’re looking for.”

Miranda harrumphs and her eyes go back to the guy, not willing to let Kyle rain on her parade.

But now my curiosity is piqued. “How do you know that?” I ask.

He turns toward me in the booth, his arm going around the back where his fingers brush against my shoulders. He gives a slight, nonchalant shrug. “I’ve hung around my fair share of bikers.”

His smile is open and his words are light, but I see something deep in his eyes that troubles me. I have no doubt he’s hung around his share based on how confident he sounds and I hear the ring of truth, but I get the feeling that his experience was far from good.

“Did you ride with a gang or something?” I ask.

A dark, painful flash in Kyle’s eyes, but before he can answer me, a cell phone ringing pierces the air around us. My eyes immediately drop down as Kyle leans to the side, extends a leg, and fishes a small phone out of his front pocket. It’s not a smartphone, not even a flip phone, but a small, plain black unit with a digital screen big enough to only hold perhaps a phone number.

He brings the phone to his ear as he starts to slide out of the booth. “Talk to me,” is how he answers.

My hand shoots out and I touch his forearm, my head tilted and my gaze questioning. Kyle tells whoever is on the other line, “Hold on just a sec.”

Then he covers the phone with his hand and raises his eyebrows, indicating he’s waiting for me to ask a question.

Sliding my gaze to the cell and then back to him, I say, “I thought you said you didn’t have a cell phone?”

There’s no pause, no stutter, and no guilt in his eyes. He simply says, “Just got it the other day.”

“Oh,” I murmur, accepting it, but wondering why he didn’t tell me or give me his number.

“I gotta take this call,” he says, and then leans over and kisses me on the top of my head. “Be right back.”

Kyle turns and walks out of the diner, the phone back to his ear. I watch as he heads down the sidewalk a bit, one hand tucked in his pocket while he listens to whoever is on the other end.

“Does that bother you?” Miranda asks, ever observant of me. She knows me all too well.

I shrug. “Maybe a little. I wonder why he didn’t tell me.”

“Did you see how basic that thing was?” she says as she comes to his defense. “He’s clearly not a techie type of guy, and I’m betting he prefers to just walk over to your house to talk to you.”

That’s all true. He comes over whenever he wants to be with me, although I haven’t quite had the guts to just meander over to his because I want to see him. Yes, I get that’s contrary to the fact that I regularly showed up on his doorstep back in the day when we were first getting to know each other, but now that sex is involved, I guess I’m just being a little old fashioned. I’m not sure I’m ready to march over there with a “do me, baby” type of come-on, although I’m sure Kyle would definitely take me up on it.

“Hell yeah,” Miranda murmurs in a low, sexy tone of appreciation. She’s looking back over my shoulder. Before I can even turn to see what she’s looking at—presumably the hot-biker-not-actually-biker type guy—he’s at our table and Miranda’s sliding over to let him in.

I try not to let my jaw drop as he turns slightly to face her, completely ignoring me, and says to her, “I’m Steve. And you are too beautiful for me not to come over here and let you know that.”

I roll my eyes, which I can do because neither one of them is looking at me.

Miranda flutters her eyelashes and holds her hand out. “Miranda.”

Steve pulls it to his mouth and kisses her knuckles, and I shake my head. I’ve seen enough Sons of Anarchy and I can tell you for sure that Jax Teller would never do that. He’s totally not a biker like Kyle says, but Miranda eats that shit up and doesn’t see it for what it is… just a way to get into her pants.