Free Deep Trouble: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family) by Kimberly Kincaid Page B

then two, Devon stood completely quiet in front of her. But then he surprised the hell out of her with, “I owe your brother a lot, Kylie. I wanted this”—he broke off to meet her stare, gesturing between them with one hand—“I want it still. But there’s more to it than me and you.”
    “There isn’t.” Kylie’s heart squeezed, but she closed the space between them with certainty. “Right now, this is only me and you.”
    He opened his mouth—to argue if his hard-edged expression was any indication—but she cupped her hands around his face, cutting him off before he could start.
    “Look, I don’t have a crystal ball. I don’t know what will happen between us, and I get that you and Kellan are close. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this in the here and now. So what do you say we just keep moving across the country and take things as they come without feeling guilty?”
    After a beat, one corner of Devon’s mouth lifted into a half-smile. “You get what you want a lot, don’t you?”
    “Yes,” Kylie answered without a trace of apology.
    “Guess arguing with you would be kind of pointless, then,” Devon said, pressing his forehead against hers for a brief second before lowering his lips for an equally quick kiss.
    “Mmm hmm.” Her belly squeezed with warmth and goodness and about forty other things as she kissed him back. But they had enough to worry about with Fagan just waiting for his chance to pounce. Complicating things between them? Yeah, that just seemed stupid.
    “Now why don’t you finish getting your stuff packed up while I grab a couple of waters from the vending machine?” Kylie asked. “Then we can get back on the road and take a dent out of some of this trip.”
    “We’ll hit the vending machine together on the way out,” Devon challenged, but Kylie had already grabbed a couple of dollar bills from her purse.
    “It’s literally ten feet from our front door. Plus, faster is better, remember?”
    “Fast might be good, but safe is better.” Devon took a nasty-looking knife out of the nightstand drawer, tucking it into the side pocket of his duffel as easily as if the thing were a butter knife going into a drawer. “I don’t want you out of my sight.”
    A soft laugh pushed past Kylie’s lips. “Everything worked out just fine when we did divide and conquer at the convenience store earlier.”
    “That was a mistake.” His knuckles turned white over the nylon strap in his grasp, his spine unfolding into a rigid line. “I should never have let it happen. I won’t fuck up like that again.”
    Kylie had closed the space between them before she even registered her brain’s command to move. “Hey. We were barely separated in that mini-mart, and technically, you could see me the whole time. Plus, the whole thing went without a hitch. You’re being a little hard on yourself, don’t you think?”
    “I think I’m not hard on myself nearly enough.”
    “What happened to you on your last tour in Afghanistan, Devon?”
    Her cheeks burned at the brash question that had flown from her mouth, but there was no sense trying to take it back. What’s more, she didn’t want to. He hadn’t exactly been a chatty guy when she’d met him five years ago, sure, but the titanium intensity and all of these scalpel-sharp edges were definitely new acquisitions.
    Whatever had gone down out there in the desert had changed him. Not a little.
    Devon opened his mouth, and for a second, Kylie thought he’d actually answer. But then the flash of emotion disappeared from his amber stare, and all at once, he was as unreadable as ancient Greek.
    “Nothing. Look”—he shifted back to run a hand over his crew cut—“Fagan’s dangerous as hell, and the thought of him trying to hurt you makes me want to kick the shit out of something. So until his ass is in a maximum security lockup where it belongs, you’re going to have to get used to being stuck with me, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    “What?”