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“Because Brie told me that you’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Did she tell you to meet me here, too?”
Kenzie felt her cheeks flush. “Of course not. She has no idea that I’m here.”
And she’d probably be horrified if she knew what her friend had planned. But Kenzie wasn’t worried that Brielle would find out, because Spencer’s sister had snuck away from the house to meet someone, too.
“And I’m still waiting for you to tell me why you’re here,” Spencer said impatiently.
“I just wanted to, uh, say goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” He turned away.
“Wait!” She leaped up.
He sighed and turned back. “What do you want, Kenzie?”
“Are you, uh, ever gonna come back?”
“I’m only going to college,” he said. “I’ll be home for Christmas.”
But Christmas was a long way away, and she couldn’t wait that long. Besides, she was here now. And she was ready.
“It was my birthday last week,” she said.
“Happy birthday,” he replied, with more than a touch of impatience.
“I’m sixteen now,” she told him, hoping he understood the significance of the revelation.
“Okay,” he acknowledged cautiously.
The next words spilled out of her mouth in a rush: “Sixteen’s the legal age of consent in Nevada.”
His brows drew together and his mouth thinned. “How do you know that?”
“I looked it up,” she admitted, her cheeks burning.
“Why?” he asked.
She lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Because I’m ready.”
“For what?”
“To do it.” Her cheeks were hot and her armpits were damp, but she forged ahead determinedly. “With you.”
He sighed. “Kenzie, you’re not ready to have sex if you can’t even say the words.”
“I am ready,” she insisted, with far more certainty than she felt. “And I want you to be my first.”
He shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not? You were going to have sex with Ashleigh, weren’t you?”
“I’m not going to talk to you about Ashleigh,” he told her.
“But she left and I’m still here.”
“You shouldn’t be,” he told her bluntly.
In the past, Kenzie had rarely managed to string a complete sentence together in his presence. But she was sixteen now, and she would not be dissuaded.
Instead of taking the hint, she took a step closer.
Then she lifted herself onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his.
He didn’t respond at first, but she refused to give up. She refused to consider that this night might not end the way she’d planned. Then he muttered a shocking curse against her lips and finally gave in to the deep and abiding love she was certain he must feel for her.
She gasped a little when his tongue slid between her parted lips, but she didn’t pull away. Not even when he pushed her back against the hay bales and pressed his body against hers—
The ring of her cell phone jolted Kenzie back to the present.
Seven years later, the memories of that night were still vivid enough to make her feel hot and shaky. Inwardly chiding herself for this reaction, she pressed cool hands to her heated cheeks and drew in a deep, steadying breath, then reached for her phone.
“Hey,” Kenzie said, smiling as she answered the FaceTime request from Spencer’s sister. “How are things in the Big Apple?”
“Everything’s great here,” Brielle said. “But there might be a bit of a tremor on its way to the Silver State.”
Kenzie heard the worry underlying her friend’s deliberately casual words and immediately suspected the reason for the call. “If you’re talking about Spencer returning to Haven, your warning is too late.”
“Who told you?”
“It would be a shorter list to mention the people who didn’t tell me,” Kenzie noted dryly.
But she was touched by her friend’s concern. Although Brie didn’t know all the details about what had happened—or almost happened—between Kenzie and Spencer before he went away to college, she knew about her friend’s crush and that she’d been heartbroken when he left.
“That’s only one of the many things I don’t miss about living in a small town,” Brielle muttered.
“But you miss your friends, don’t you?”
“I miss you,” Brie confirmed. “I’ve lost touch with almost everyone else from high school.”
“They’d be happy to see you if you came home for a visit,” Kenzie said.
“I will,” Brielle responded, as she always did. And though she always sounded as if she meant it, she’d only ever returned to Haven once since she’d moved to New York City for college and decided to stay—and that had been for her grandmother’s funeral.
“In the meantime, I thought you should know that Spencer is on his way home.”
“Your intel is a little out-of-date,” Kenzie noted.
“Huh?”
“He’s not on his way, he is home. In fact, he came into the clinic today.”
“How bad is his shoulder?” Brielle asked.
“You know I can’t share any details of a patient’s treatment,” she said. She probably shouldn’t even have disclosed his appointment, but it was hardly a secret as anyone might have seen Spencer on his way into or out of the building.
“He’s not a patient—he’s my brother,” Brie reminded her.
Kenzie relented enough to say, “And he’s healing.”
Brielle considered this for a moment before asking, “You don’t think it’s anything that would keep him away from the circuit, do you?”
Though she knew she was breaching the rules regarding patient confidentiality, she was eager to assuage the concern she heard in her friend’s voice. “Numerous tests and physical examinations suggest a simple glenohumeral dislocation.”
“Okay.” Brie nodded. “That’s good. I mean, I have no idea what a gle-no-whatever is, but the way you said it was reassuring.”
Kenzie smiled at that. But her friend’s earlier question made her ask, “Do you know something that you’re not telling me?”
“No,” Brie denied. “But when we talked last week...he seemed to suggest that he was thinking about making a career change...and I didn’t get the impression that it was entirely willingly.”
“Bull riding takes a toll on the body,” Kenzie noted. “He’s probably starting to feel his age.”
“He’s twenty-five.”
“And he’s been a professional bull rider for five years already, after competing in college and as an amateur for I-don’t-know-how-many years before that.”
“At least ten,” Brielle admitted. “Because that’s how old he was when he won his first buckle for steer riding.”
“Maybe he’s just ready for a change,” Kenzie suggested.
And as she considered the possibility that Spencer might not just be home for a visit but forever, a tiny blossom of something that felt like joyful hope began to unfurl inside her heart. Then she remembered how eager he’d been to leave Haven, how determined he’d been to find fame and fortune away from “this backwards backwoods town,” and that tiny blossom shriveled up again.
“Maybe,” her friend echoed, though her tone was dubious.
“And speaking of change—rumor has it that the Mountainview kindergarten teacher put in for a transfer to Reno.”
“Shelby Bradford’s been making plans to leave Haven since long before I did,” Brielle remarked. “She’s not going anywhere.”
“Well, she’ll have to retire eventually,” Kenzie pointed out.
Her friend laughed. “Don’t hold your breath.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, then Brie had to run to meet some friends for dinner, which prompted Kenzie to think about her own evening meal.
Not that she was really hungry, but anything was better than thinking about Spencer Channing—and the long-forgotten feelings that his return had stirred inside her.
* * *
If Spencer had asked around town, he might have learned that Kenzie rented an apartment above a law office on Main Street, not too far from the clinic where she worked. Instead, he’d taken a more circuitous route to get there.
“Hey,” he said, when Kenzie replied to the buzz of the intercom from the street level entrance behind the building.
“Spencer? What are you doing here?”
There was reservation along with surprise in her tone. He had no reason to assume that she’d want to see him, but he was counting on her long-term friendship with his sister to at least get him in the door. “Can I come up?” he asked. “Or are we going to have an entire conversation through this speaker?”
She hesitated. Or maybe he only thought she did, because the next sound he heard was the lock being released.
“Now are you going to tell me why you’re here?” she asked after letting him into her apartment.
He took a moment to appreciate the fact that she’d changed out of the all-black she’d been wearing at the clinic and into a pair of slim-fitting jeans and a flowy kind of top in a patchwork print. She’d released her hair from its ponytail, too, so that the long tresses hung like a curtain of shiny silk around her face. Her driver’s license probably described her hair as brown, but it was actually an intriguing mix of many shades, including hints of gold and copper.
“Spencer?” she prompted, when he didn’t respond to her question.
“Sorry,” he apologized, realizing he’d been staring. “I just—wow, Kenzie. You really look great.”
“Thank you,” she said, a little cautiously.
He couldn’t blame her for being wary. Although she’d been best friends with his sister, he’d never been particularly close with Kenzie. Well, there was that one time...but it was probably best not to think about that night right now. Or ever.
Except that being back in Haven and seeing Kenzie again, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about that night. And, seven years later, he still didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed that it hadn’t ended differently.
Firmly pushing those memories to the back of his mind, he focused on the present—and his empty stomach. “I came by to see if you wanted to grab a bite to eat.”
“Grab a bite?” she echoed the words as if he’d suggested a quick trip to the moon.
Okay, so she was surprised by the invitation. And obviously skeptical about his motivations for showing up at her door. But a buddy had once remarked that he could charm a nun out of her habit if he put his mind to it, so he didn’t figure it should be too difficult to convince Kenzie to share a meal with him.
“Dinner,” he clarified, his lips curving in an easy smile. “You know—when you sit down at a table, sometimes in a restaurant, and enjoy a meal.”
“I’m vaguely familiar with the concept,” she said dryly. “In fact, I’ve got soup heating on the stove for mine.”
“Soup isn’t a meal,” he chided. “Even Diggers’ menu lists it as a starter.”
“Well, it’s my meal tonight,” she insisted, and turned her back on him.
Which afforded him a spectacular view of her nicely shaped derriere encased in snug denim.
He followed that sweetly curved butt to the kitchen, where she picked up a spoon from the counter and stirred the soup.
He averted his gaze so she wouldn’t catch him staring again and looked around the ultramodern kitchen with dark walnut cupboards and stainless steel appliances. A granite-topped island separated the kitchen from the open-concept living area with a trio of tall windows that overlooked Main Street.
“Nice place,” he remarked.
“I like it,” she agreed.
“How long have you lived here?”
