Page 38 of Kylo
“We’re having some friends over, if you want to come check things out. Meet Mackie.”
“The trash-talking parrot?”
“Yep. There’s a tortoise too.”
He was making it kind of hard to say no, even if my anxiety was whispering in my ear that he was only asking me because he felt somehow obligated since he’d accidentally run into me.
“And Eddie is putting out a spread. Best food you’ll ever eat.”
If I’d been debating turning him down and telling him I’d eaten, at the mention of food, my stomach let out a loud grumble that made it impossible.
Besides, it really seemed like he was trying to get me to say yes, not that he felt like he had to.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“That’s my girl,” he said, reaching out to give my braid a small tug.
He meant it casually, of course. There was no telling my heart that, though; it fluttered in my chest as I fell into step with Kylo as we crossed the street.
“Wait,” I said, spotting the row of motorcycles. “I think I saw you yesterday! When I was leaving after dropping off Ernest, I waited for someone in this driveway to pull out before I did. And you got to my place before I did.”
“Yeah, it had to be me. Everyone else was busy.”
I didn’t say what was on my mind—thoughts of things like fate and serendipity. I tried not to focus on them either. Happenstance wasn’t fate. And there were a limited number of assisted living facilities in the area.
“He did a good job on the mulch, considering he was putting on a peep show,” I said, getting a chuckle out of Kylo as he held the front door open for me.
“It’s a shame he ran out of sunlight. He would have probably turned on the hose and washed off for them too.”
“He sounds fun,” I said as I was led into a living room.
There wasn’t much to write home about. There was a staircase to the left and a TV hanging on that wall. The walls were gray. The furniture was well-loved black leather.
No one was seated there, but I heard voices (and smelled delicious things) coming from the kitchen.
I felt my spine stiffening as my innards tried to rearrange themselves. It was just then that Kylo’s hand pressed to my lower back, acting as the anchor I so desperately needed before the intrusive thoughts ran away with me.
Then we walked through the doorway together.
The kitchen was a well-loved space.
Kids’ art was tacked to the fridge. Keys hung from a wooden rack near the back door. The counters were full of cooking ingredients. And just to the right inside the doorway was a huge metal cage. On the top sat a gorgeous blue-and-gold macaw. He was balanced on one foot while the other one held what appeared to be a slice of apple as his can opener of a beak steadily tore into the white flesh.
It wasn’t just personal touches in the kitchen. Kylo’s friends were all gathered around, five in all, and each wearing the same little vest that he had on.
Well, no.
The man standing at the counter didn’t have a vest. He had a silly apron printed with a bunch of his own heads on it.
“Oh, hi,” he said, spying me first as he looked up from a pan he was stirring.
“Eddie, this is Rue. Rue, Eddie. The kitchen master. And this is Caymen, Velle, York, and you already know who Dixon is.”
“How?” Dixon asked, head cocked to the side.
He was a good-looking guy up close. Though, honestly, they all were in their own unique ways. Even if I thought Kylo had a little something-something on the rest of them.
“Oh, well, my grandmother is part of the little viewing party across the street,” I admitted. “Barbie is very relieved to know you have a name that starts with a D, even if she thought it might be Dante or Diego.”
