Page 12 of Wild Hope
“What do you want to do?”
“I’d like to study psychology, be a therapist. Help people in some way.”
She says it shyly, like it’s the first time she’s expressed her wishes out loud. I take her hand, and she glances at me but doesn’t pull away.
“You’d make a great therapist. You should do it.”
She bites her lower lip and smiles. “Maybe I will.”
The conversation moves to other things.
Kendra asks me all about the bar and the MC club. And it seems like no time has passed before we reach the clearing.
There’s a break in the canopy where sunlight filters in, and I spread the picnic blanket on the forest floor under the warm rays. Kendra plops down next to me, her short skirt riding up her thighs.
I grab the food and hand her a sandwich.
“You like chicken sandwiches?”
She takes it and we talk as we eat, the conversation flowing easily.
Maggie packed a large piece of apple pie and we share it, taking turns at scooping it up with a bamboo fork.
When we’re done eating, Kendra lays back on the blanket and exhales deeply.
“I can see why you come here. It’s peaceful.”
Her hair fans out over the picnic blanket, and her eyes close.
I prop myself up on one elbow, drinking in the sight of her. For a long time, neither of us speaks. We listen to the bird sounds, and I watch her breathing.
One of her eyes peeps open and then narrows when she sees me watching her. “You don’t have to take Quentin’s instructions quite so literally.”
I frown at her, not sure what she’s talking about. “What do you mean?”
She props herself up on her elbows and looks at me.
“I know he told you to watch over me while he’s away. And that’s why you’re in the bar when I’m working and why you’ve taken me out today.”
Her words cut me. She thinks I’m only here because Quentin asked me to keep an eye on her.
“And I’m sorry I threw myself at you last night. It was silly. I was caught up in the moment…”
She trails off and looks down, a telltale blush creeping up her neck. She brings her arm up to smooth her hair, and I catch it in mid-air.
“Quentin’s got nothing to do with it,” I growl. “I brought you here because I want to spend time with you. And I kissed you last night because I’ve been wanting to kiss you for the last six years.”
“Oh.” Her mouth pops open. “So this has got nothing to do with my brother?”
At her mention of Quentin, I sit up and run my hand through my hair.
“No. The only worry about your brother is what he’d think if her knew how much I want to kiss his little sister.”
She sits up, breathing hard, and crawls over to me. “Do you want to kiss me?”
From my position above her, I can see right down her T-shirt. Her chest heaves up and down as she breathes. My gaze darts to her plump lips, begging to be kissed.
“Yes.” My voice sounds husky with desire. “I’d very much like to kiss you.”
