Gunn(Bayou Springs Alien Mail Order Brides #2)(4)

 

I frowned. "I'm not that nurturing. Besides, what does that have to do with anything? Maybe I just haven't met the right woman."

 

"You are nurturing, Gunn. Usually, anyway. I don't know who that man is who just barked at her, because the Gunn I know is always the first guy to help anyone in need. Yesterday, I heard Opal going on about you rescuing a feral kitten and finding it a home with Miss Patricia. On Sunday, you mowed Aunt Kelly's yard without her even asking. Those are just two examples of things you did this week. You probably accomplished a half dozen other good deeds that nobody's given you credit for yet. It's just the way you are. If I didn't know you …  intimately, I'd say you were a fucking saint."

 

I stared at her with my mouth hanging open. "How did …  um, are you keeping tabs on me?"

 

She laughed. "Hardly. Small town. What else does anyone have to talk about besides your brother and Opal getting caught half naked down on Cal Tiller's docks?"

 

"That did get a lot of tongues wagging," I agreed.

 

Her smile turned pensive. "Never mind all that. You have met the right woman. She's sitting up at the house right now. It's obvious to anyone with half a brain. And you met her a long time ago. Which, like I said, explains why you've never let any other woman into that soft heart of yours." She leaned across the bar and brushed her lips over my cheek, whispering, "Now do yourself a favor and go talk to her. Try to be nice this time."

 

"I'm always nice," I said, slightly offended.

 

She pulled back, cocking one eyebrow at me. "I hate to tell you this, Gunn, but that little reunion     I just witnessed? It was kinda brutal. The girl barely even said hello before you shut her down. Hard."

 

Everything inside me tightened with anger. "You don't know our history."  

 

She shook her head. "You're right I don't. But I don't need to in order to understand you're still twisted up about her. And as long as you are, there's no place for me here." Gathering her handbag, she gave me one last regretful smile before saying, "It's too bad you won't be coming by. Now I won't have any reason to wear that black see-through number I just bought." With a small wave, she strode across the bar and out the front door.

 

Echo, who'd witnessed the entire exchange, let out a low whistle. "Damn, brother. It must be rough."

 

I glanced at him. "Which part? Realizing my evening plans were just sabotaged, having to deal with Audrey's bullshit, or finding out why she thought it was a good idea to bring Kennedy back here?"

 

"The part where you're too stupid to realize you just fucked things up with both of those gorgeous women." He grabbed a fresh towel and started wiping down the bar.

 

"I don't have anything to fuck up with Kennedy," I ground out.

 

"Right. And you can bet your chances of rekindling that romance just got a lot slimmer. And they say you're the charmer." He let out a derisive snort of laughter. "Talk about a douchebag. 'I always wondered how long it'd take for you to come running back,'" he mimicked in my slightly deeper voice. "Christ, you sounded like a dick. You and I both know she didn't deserve that."

 

My brother stared pointedly at me, and I fought to keep myself from wincing. Instead, I tightened my jaw and said, "Butt out, Echo. It's none of your business."

 

"Normally I'd say you're right," he said, piercing me with a stare. "But this is different. Kennedy is family. And if you'd get over yourself for five seconds, you'd remember that."

 

Shame and regret hit me right in the gut. We'd all practically grown up together. Kennedy had lived a half mile down the street. Her mom had been Audrey's best friend and our mother figure before she'd succumbed to cancer over a decade ago. Echo was right. Kennedy was family. Always would be, no matter what was or wasn't going on between us. Hunching my shoulders, I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets. "I guess I should go talk to her and Audrey."

 

"Ya think?" Echo scoffed as I strode away. Then just as I got to the back door he called, "Gunn?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Don't be an ass this time."

 

I bit back the urge to tell him to fuck off and stalked out the door.

 

 

 

 

 

3

 

 

 

 

 

Kennedy

 

 

 

 

 

The large Victorian plantation home hadn't changed a bit since the last time I'd stepped foot on the old pinewood floors. Even the living room furniture was the same. Overstuffed brown-leather recliners matched the sectional that looked fairly ridiculous in the old house. Faded sheers covered the twelve-foot tall windows, blocking the harsh, late-afternoon light. I paced, unable to settle my jittery nerves. "This was a bad idea," I said to Audrey who was leaning against the entryway from the living room to the formal dining room. "It's obvious he doesn't want anything to do with me."