Rumi finished her bottle and Kennedy petted her and held her close before gently placing her back in the laundry basket. She wondered if Maverick planned to keep all the puppies. Certainly Jenna would want one. But were the rest spoken for? Would Maverick give the others away to local families?
She moseyed back into the kitchen to rinse out the bottle and get a drink of water. If it weren’t pitch-black outside, she’d walk back to the inn by herself. Not that she was afraid of the dark—just the creatures that might be lurking unseen. Like bats. Or spiders. Or snakes. She’d seen many patients in the ER because of animal bites and preferred not to join their ranks.
The takeout containers were still on the counter, so she cleaned up their dinner mess and put their glasses in the dishwasher. Hoisting herself up onto the counter, she sat with a clear view out the window over the sink. She’d see Maverick’s truck lights coming down the drive any minute, she supposed.
She stretched her arms and her fingertips accidentally touched his passport. She contemplated the small book for a few seconds before picking it up to check out his picture. Underneath it, she discovered, was a second passport, and her pulse sped up. Same blue cover. Same binding. She knew it was an invasion of privacy to look at either one of them, but she couldn’t stop herself. The first passport was Maverick’s. Of course he took a good picture. The second passport belonged to Nicole Morisette. She was pretty with dark hair and a full mouth.
An ache filled Kennedy’s chest. Both passports were filled with stamps. Venezuela. Argentina. Greece. Their pages matched. Pages that told a story only the two of them knew. Secrets and memories and shared adventures.
Kennedy had never been out of the country. She’d barely been out of the state.
A tiny piece of paper slipped from Nicole’s passport. Don’t unfold it. Don’t unfold it. She unfolded it. The words were written in Maverick’s writing, she guessed, the penmanship more masculine than feminine.
It was her favorite Rumi poem.
I want to see you.
Know your voice.
Recognize you when you
first come ’round the corner.
Sense your scent when I come
into a room you’ve just left.
Know the lift of your heel,
the glide of your foot.
Become familiar with the way
you purse your lips
then let them part,
just the slightest bit,
when I lean in to your space
and kiss you.
I want to know the joy
of how you whisper
“more.”
She closed her eyes and silently recited the poem from memory. When had Maverick given this to Nicole? Had she whispered “more”?
A flash of light behind her eyelids had her opening her eyes. Maverick was back.
And because she’d never get the chance to do it in reality… “More,” she said softly to the empty room.
Chapter Thirteen
Four days until the wedding
Maverick pulled up to his house, the headlights flashing across the kitchen window and catching Kennedy’s glossy blond head. It looked like she was sitting atop the counter before the vision of her vanished.
Tonight hadn’t gone at all how he’d planned. After Cole had dropped off dinner and stuck around long enough for a quick conversation about the puppies, Maverick had been about to sit down and eat when he’d caught sight of Kennedy walking toward his house. She had on a plum-colored sundress and sneakers and was a prettier sight than any one person had a right to be. He’d watched her until his view of her disappeared, then he’d waited a beat for her to knock…only she never did.
When he found her snooping, he’d almost laughed out loud. She kept him on his toes, that was for sure, and his need for isolation dimmed considerably when she was near. How could it not when she always invited an interesting war of words?
And then he’d done the unthinkable.
He’d kissed her.
And liked it.
Her lips made a man think impure thoughts. Made a man want to stray from his convictions. Kennedy Martin, with her smart, sexy mouth; intelligent eyes; and perceptive mind wore him down.
Holding her close had been heaven. She’d fitted inside his arms like she’d been made to be there. And she smelled amazing, obliterating the scent of horses and hay and pine trees and narrowing it down to her. Only her.
He’d caught himself, though, before the kiss went beyond the point of no return. Kennedy wasn’t a one-night stand kind of woman. She was dinners and movie nights and reading poetry on the porch.
This Saturday marked the three-year anniversary of Nicole’s death. It also marked what would have been her thirtieth birthday. The day she’d entered the world, she’d left it, a sick joke he hated to dwell on. Before she passed, she’d asked him to finish their travel list before that milestone birthday, and he hated that he was a little late in delivering. Obligations to his family and the ranch had warred with his promise to Nicole, but better late than never. He was a man of his word, and this trip was long overdue. He had to stay focused on that.
Before he could turn off the truck’s engine, Kennedy bounded out the front door and hopped into his passenger seat. “Mind driving me back to the inn now?” she asked, slightly out of breath.
Earlier, he couldn’t wait for her to go, and now it seemed she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
“Sure. Everything okay?” He had a sneaking suspicion she had mischief on her mind again.
“Everything’s fine. I’m just tired, and the bathtub in my room is calling my name. Did you find George okay?”
Great. Now he was picturing her in the bathtub. Water sluicing over her small shoulders and pert breasts as the faucet filled the tub. His jeans grew tight behind his zipper.
This visceral reaction to her had to stop.
He stepped on the gas pedal a little too roughly. “Sorry,” he said, grateful it took less than two minutes to drive to the inn. Then, “Yes, George is back where he belongs.”
They stayed quiet after that, and as quickly as she’d jumped into his truck, she jumped out when he came to a stop. “Thanks!” She caught the car door just before it shut all the way and added, “For everything. It was a fun night.”
“You’re welcome.”
“There’s one more thing. I accidentally on purpose looked at your passport. And Nicole’s. I shouldn’t have, but I did. I’m sorry.”
Appreciation overtook the flash of anger that tensed his jaw. She owned up to her mistakes and believed in honesty. The deed done, he could hold it against her or move on, and forgiveness left him feeling a lot lighter as he nodded. “Thanks for telling me.”