Free Slow Fever by Cait London Page B

her arms as if the matter were ended. “Deal. We talk about something else. Do you agree?”
    With a nod and a sigh of relief, Michael crouched to add more wood to the fire. He could just feel safety lurk nearby when Kylie said, “I want to know why you didn’t play team sports like the rest of the guys. All through school, you would shoot baskets at our house, and that hoop is still over Mom’s old garage. You were good. You hit homers in the cow pasture baseball, and yet you never played on the school teams. I heard from the guys that you’re still good.”
    Kylie had been unpredictable when she was younger, but now as a woman, she was as volatile as an ungrounded electric wire. He wasn’t certain he liked the feeling that she could reach into him and grab his heart in her small fist. Michael studied her. “Maybe it was a matter of money. Track shoes cost, so do the rest.”
    “Bunk and double bunk. I know how hard you worked to support your father until he died. You’ve always worked, either in town or on the ranches, and you had money.”
    “Girls, Sherlock. Dating costs.”
    “So did Tanner’s track shoes—the ones you bought and hung on Mom’s back porch. So did the ribbons and the other things, like Mom’s little leather manicure set. You knew she never would have treated herself to that and thatthere was no money for Tanner’s sports supplies or those little gold studs I wanted when I was fifteen. You bought Mom a good set of leather gloves when her hands were torn picking blackberries in the bramble. I still have the earrings and the gold locket you gave me when I turned sixteen by the way. Karolina picked up most of it—she was always good at details, even when we were kids—and I saw you from my bedroom window the night you left Tanner’s track shoes. You were lucky I didn’t shoot you with my slingshot. I was pretty good then. Karolina has apparently forgotten all her early sleuth work. I haven’t.”
    Michael studied Kylie and knew she was out to terrorize him. “Are you done?”
    “No. I’ll tell you when I am.” She glared at him for a moment and then said, “I’m done.”
    Michael considered the woman who had just turned her back to him, sealing him away from her. Helpless wasn’t an emotion he’d had since he was a child and now it circled him. He badly wanted to pick her up and hold her and cuddle her. Kylie flipped back over, catching his tender expression before he could wipe it away. To protect himself and her, Michael stated darkly, “Don’t pull the do-gooder act with me. Don’t try to push me into something I’m not. It won’t work.”
    “You’re afraid,” she cooed, unafraid and taunting him. Then she shifted that luscious mobile mouth into a smirk and murmured, “Gotcha.”
    Michael found himself grinning. “Exactly what would the Women’s Council say if they knew we were spending the night together—again?”
    Kylie’s smirk died. “You know good and well that the traditions of Freedom Valley are that if a couple spends the night together, the man is expected to go before the Council and present himself as a proper bridegroom candidate. Itisn’t necessary, but it’s a custom that every woman really wants, no matter how modern she is. Our mothers and grandmothers have wanted the same, and were courted according to custom. I can’t see you doing that. You’ve been a Cull too long. You have all those women. You’re a legend in your own time, a heartthrob of every girl when we were younger. You wouldn’t do that just to embarrass me, like that kiss on the dance floor, would you?”
    “Wouldn’t I?” Michael watched her digest exactly what he could do, and slid into his sleeping bag.
    “You know that if you speak for me, it will stop other men from asking me for casual dates. You’re just contrary enough to— I really need a date, Michael, so don’t do that. I’m determined to—” Kylie lifted up on one elbow and scowled at him. “Never mind.