I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(47)

Fuck. Could it be any more obvious this woman is seeping into my pores?

You’d think I’d be running for the hills, before my girl splits my heart in two. But do I want to get away? Hell, no. I actually want to get closer to Kay, lay my heart out before her, and let her do with it what she will. If only I had the balls to take a chance, I think she’d handle my heart carefully. She’s sweet like that.

Sweet Kay. I can’t help but smile. But she’s more than just sweet. She is so, so many things, and every single one of them I find cute as hell.

My girl is attentive when I talk, sitting and listening to all my stupid stories with rapt attention. Who else would do that? Only her. But she’s also more, so much more. Kay is shy-girl blushes and smiles, pretty in pink, and sexy as f*ck in summer dresses. Sweet girl is vulnerable at times, but brave at others. Such a girly-girl most of the time, but sometimes she’s a wannabe-tough girl who delivers weak-ass punches with enthusiasm, like she did the day I stole the tie-thing from her hair.

I sit down on the couch, laugh as I recall. I was such an ass to take her hair tie, but the payoff was well worth it—I got to touch beautiful girl’s hair. And f*ck, was it ever soft and silky, wavy at the ends. I couldn’t stop myself that day from imagining her chestnut mane fanned out on a pillow, me above her, moving in her, feeling her, inside and out. My voice was a little husky when I whispered in her ear. I knew that was why she was blushing when she turned around. But that was okay. I like that my words have the power to pink her cheeks. She’s easy like that, and at times I can’t resist. But apart from all this fun we have, there’s something more.

It touches me somewhere in my hardened heart that attentive girl gets so into my stories, especially the ones that include my brother. Maybe my heart’s not so hardened after all. ’Cause the day I saw Kay getting so emotionally invested in the outcome of my story about Will and the lizards, I wanted nothing more than to reach across the booth and kiss her. She’s never even met my brother, but there she was, rooting for him to catch a lizard. Her heart is pure and good like that, just another thing I like about my girl.

Except Kay’s not really my girl, now is she? Not in the way I wish she could be; that’s for sure. And I need to remember why this is so. How could I miss the curious look Father Maridale gave us the other day when we were leaving the church office to go to lunch? Trust me, I didn’t. Father was coming in as we were going out, and when he caught my eye he shot me a look of warning. I gave him a little bit of an eye-roll back, one I hope said: yeah, yeah, I’m following your rules, just being her friend, even though it’s f*cking killing me.

Father Maridale nodded like he’d heard my thoughts and patted me on the shoulder, then continued on his way. Thankfully, Kay was talking about something and seemed completely oblivious to the whole exchange.

Speaking of Kay, the doorbell rings. She’s here. Shit. I am so f*cking nervous about tonight. I hope this is a good idea.

When I open the front door, Kay smiles and the feeling that everything is right when we’re together helps to calm my nervous ass. And, wow, now that I look—like, really look—I’m kind of floored. Kay looks amazing. She’s wearing the same lacy dress she had on earlier at work, but she’s lost the cardigan, so I can clearly see how her body fills out the dress in all the right places.

This lacy number is similar to the dress she was wearing the day I stole her hair tie, except this version is blue instead of white. And it’s a whole lot shorter. So much so it takes me an extra few seconds to pull my gaze away from her smooth-looking legs. But I do, I look up. And that’s when I notice Kay’s hair appears extra soft and shiny. More so than usual, like maybe she just brushed it out before she got here. I think she has on a little makeup too. Her lips are dewy, and her eyes, kind of smoky. Whatever she’s done, she is stunning.

And I think to myself that, true, Kay may not be my girl in all the ways I’d prefer, but she’s most definitely my girl when it comes to this friendship we’ve developed. In that, we belong to each other.

“Hi,” Kay says all shy-like, as if she’s suddenly not sure if she should be here. To me, she looks like she’s belonged here all along.

I say hi and invite her in, but she doesn’t move.

“Kay, are you coming in?” I ask when she shifts slightly, looking a little nervous.

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Aw, sweet girl makes me smile. Guess she just had to get her bearings.

Kay steps into the hall and, trying to be subtle, she glances up the stairs, and then leans forward slightly so she can see into the rooms off to the left and the right. She’s obviously curious about this house I live in, so I offer to show her around. I don’t know why, but she gets pretty excited about a tour.

The house is of moderate size, not overly big, but not exactly small. It’s a typical farmhouse, I guess. The rooms are a bit old-fashioned, and there’s definitely a country-living vibe, thanks to Gram’s decorating. But I’m changing things bit by bit, slowly making this place my own, starting with fixing things that were broken and moving into the twenty-first century.

I’ve fixed up a lot in the past few weeks—polished the hardwood floors, got all the ceiling fans working, cleaned out the upstairs bedrooms no longer in use, and even ordered Wi-Fi for the computer Gram bought the year I got arrested. It was still sitting on the open rolltop desk in the living room, dusty and unused just like the record player.