Her Kind of Hero - Cindy Kirk Page 0,54
milk to his lips. He’d told Keenan he was drinking the white stuff because he wanted to set a good example for Nate. “How was the birthday party?”
“It wasn’t a birthday party. It was a quinceañera.” Keenan took another sip of the cola. “For the daughter of one of Mitzi’s office employees.”
“I wish Bets and I could afford to have someone come in and clean.” Ryan glanced into the living room strewn with toys and blocks. “You’re lucky.”
“What are you talking about?” Keenan took a bit of sandwich, trying to ignore the blackened bread. “The boardinghouse doesn’t employ a cleaning service.”
Ryan took a bite of his sandwich, frowned. He flipped it over, sighed, and then began to scrape off the charred parts with a butter knife. He stopped for a second to glance at his son, who was eating the sandwich he’d cut up for him without complaint.
“C’mon, Keenan.” Ryan dropped the sandwich to his plate. “Everyone knows you’re practically living with rich—and incredibly hot—Dr. Sanchez.”
The chunk of bread that had been sliding quite nicely down Keenan’s throat came to an abrupt halt. It took a big gulp of soda to wash it the rest of the way down.
“I live at the boardinghouse.” His tone dared Ryan to disagree. “Mitzi and I are friends.”
Ryan cocked his head. “Friends with benefits?”
Keenan gave the charred sandwich in front of him one last look before pushing the plate to the side. He lifted his chin. “Friends.”
Ryan gave a snort, worthy of any of the bulls he used to ride. He started to speak but was drowned out by his son.
“More,” Nate bellowed. “Want more.”
Most of the grilled cheese pieces remained on the high chair tray but the orange slices had disappeared.
“Say please,” Ryan prompted when Nate banged his hand against the tray.
Nate’s face took on a mulish expression.
“Say please,” Ryan said again.
The little boy gave his father an angelic smile. “Pease.”
“That’s my boy.” Ryan tousled his son’s dark hair and dropped several orange pieces onto the tray.
“Go slow,” Ryan warned, when the boy started shoveling them in. “And eat your sandwich, too.”
“Puffy eat.” Nate swept his arm across the tray and pieces of grilled cheese rained down on the Pomeranian waiting at his feet. “Yucky.”
Keenan suppressed a smile when the child turned back to the orange slices. He had a feeling Ryan and Betsy were going to have their hands full with their little buckaroo.
Once the dog pranced off with the chunk of sandwich in her mouth, Ryan turned to Keenan. “You realize that Mitzi and I went out a couple of times. We were just friends, too.”
A knot formed in the pit of Keenan’s stomach. “Friends with benefits?”
Ryan laughed so uproariously that Nate shrieked and waved his arms excitedly.
“Heck, no,” Ryan managed to sputter when he finally stopped laughing. “She wouldn’t let me touch her. Not even a kiss. I decided she must be a cold fish.”
“No,” Keenan said, thinking of her warmth, her passion and the scorching heat that flared whenever they were together. “Not cold at all.”
“What you’re saying is I wasn’t her type.”
“That lawyer brain is firing on all circuits today.”
“The doctor is hot for you.”
“For now. Until she finds Mr. Right.”
Obviously confused, Ryan cocked his head. “I thought you were Mr. Right.”
“I’m a placeholder.” Keenan’s laugh held no humor as he thought of Mitzi’s list. “Until the right guy appears.”
“Does that bother you?”
Keenan started to deny it, and then reconsidered. If he could talk to anyone about his jumbled feelings, it’d be Ry.
“It didn’t at first,” he admitted. “Somewhere along the way, things changed. At least for me.”
“You’re in love with her.”
The words hung there like a red flag, waving between them in the breeze.
“Yeah, I love her.” Keenan scowled. “Now I have to decide what I’m going to do about it.”
When Keenan headed for the Clippety Do-Dah Salon Thursday afternoon, he still hadn’t decided what he was going to do about his feelings for Mitzi. He considered telling her he loved her. Then he wondered if that would just make things awkward and ruin what time he had left with her.
He’d never told a woman he loved her. Because Mitzi was the first woman he ever loved. He didn’t want to be a placeholder. Heck, he didn’t want to even be her boyfriend.
He wanted to marry her. He wanted to be her husband.
Husband.
The word pulled him up short.
Marriage. To Mitzi. Was it really such a crazy thought?
Yes, he told himself with increased agitation, it was crazy to