Her Kind of Hero - Cindy Kirk Page 0,3
of something, I’ll do the same.”
“I’m not a guy who does things halfway.”
Something told her he wasn’t joking.
When he reached for his own plate, she put a hand on his arm, shook her head. “We’ll share.”
Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?”
“All the time.” She snatched a deep-fried ball of something from a tray and popped it into her mouth.
Rolling his eyes, he did the same. Chewed. Swallowed. “Tasty.”
“Better than prison food?”
“Much better,” he agreed.
They made their way down the long table, her pointing to something and him shaking his head, then repeating the process with him doing the pointing. By the time they finished, the plate was full.
Though Mitzi had just met Keenan, conversation flowed freely. They didn’t talk about medicine or theater events or fancy wines, but about food and now, cats.
“Mr. Tubs wasn’t anything special.” Keenan finished off the crab cake Mitzi had sliced in half with surgical precision. “But he was a good mouser and smart as a whip. Betsy and I even taught him tricks. Believe me, that wasn’t easy to do.”
Mitzi heard the affection, knew the animal had been special. “I had a cat, Oreo. I found her abandoned in a Dumpster. Like your Tubs, she earned a place in the household by keeping the mice population down.”
“What happened to her?”
Mitzi lifted one shoulder. “She got old. One day we opened the door and she slipped out. I read cats often go away to die. I like to think that’s what happened to her.”
Keenan nodded, lifted a mozzarella stick from the plate.
“What happened to Tubs?”
His lips tightened. “My mother sold him.”
Just the way he said mother told Mitzi there wasn’t any love between them.
“Why did she do that?”
“Like I said, he could do tricks.” Keenan looked down at the mozzarella stick as if trying to figure out what was in his hand. “She needed money for booze. We came home from school and Tubs was gone. She didn’t remember—she said—who bought him. It was...difficult. Betsy was devastated.”
From the look in Keenan’s eyes, his sister hadn’t been the only one. Mitzi took the mozzarella stick from his hand, dropped it onto the plate then set it aside. “Let’s take a walk.”
When they got to the back of the house, he reached around her to open the French doors leading to a deck festively lit with party lights. Couples stood in small, intimate groups talking and laughing under the golden glow from a full moon. The crisp scent of dried leaves mingled with the pungent aroma of evergreen.
After speaking briefly with several friends and getting hugs from a few more, Keenan moved to the rail and inhaled deeply. “So many times I wondered if I’d ever have this again.”
“Well, now you’re back.”
“And starting over.” He paused, shook his head as if clearing it. “That’s inaccurate. I’m beginning the next phase in my life. Out with the old. In with the new.”
That’s exactly how Mitzi had felt when she’d gone to college. Moving on. Leaving the past behind. Except she’d discovered the past often came with you, even without a proper invitation.
“What is that?” Keenan’s question pulled her from her reverie.
Mitzi turned, caught her breath at his nearness. With great effort she forced her attention to where he pointed. Someone had tied a sprig of berries to an overhanging branch. She smiled. “It’s mistletoe.”
Keenan cocked his head, looking perplexed. “Why would mistletoe be hanging from a tree branch in September?”
“It’s kind of a tradition.” Mitzi explained how Travis and Mary Karen had mistletoe at all their parties, regardless of the time of year.
He stared at the berries and waxy green leaves, then lifted a brow.
The moment his eyes touched hers, something inside seemed to lock into place, and Mitzi couldn’t look away. Her lips began to tingle with anticipation. From the expression of watchful waiting in his eyes, it was clear he wouldn’t make the first move.
Though Keenan McGregor wasn’t someone she could see herself dating, kissing wasn’t dating. It was, well, just kissing.
It could be a glad-you’re-finally-out-of-prison kiss, a way of welcoming him back to Jackson Hole. It didn’t need to be complicated.
Without giving herself time to talk herself out of the impulsive gesture, Mitzi wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her mouth to his.
Chapter Two
Before her lips could meet his, Keenan gently but firmly moved Mitzi back from him. Her eyes, which had started to close, flew open. “Wha—”
“I didn’t want you to feel obligated.” He gestured with