IN THE WORLD, there were people who enjoyed meddling in the lives of others. Some did it for their own amusement, or some sick sense of humor. Some had God complexes. Others, the majority, meddled from some sort of twisted place of optimism, love, and belief in the good in people and humanity in general. Missionaries fell under the latter group, doctors in the middle, and sadists in the former.
I suspected my friends fell both in the former and the latter categories. What they lacked were God complexes. Well, maybe not Quinn, or his doctor husband, but that was beside the point.
My friends, whom I loved dearly, were meddling meddlers who meddled.
Pot, meet kettle, I know.
I plotted their punishment. It would be fast and silent. They’d never see it coming.
Six-foot-something of dark blond and golden hued gorgeous man stood next to me, smirking.
He smirked.
How dare he smirk.
Our eyes met briefly. The familiar deep, oceanic blue undertow pulled me under his spell.
I blinked.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten.
When I opened them, Maggie and Gil stood next to the ghostly apparition of my very own Flying Dutchman. Maggie grinned while Gil awkwardly stuffed his hands inside his coat pockets.
“Welcome home!” Maggie embraced me with a warm hug.
“Can you see him too?” I whispered in her ear.
“Who?” she asked, still hugging me.
Malaria had snapped my brain’s ability to rationalize.
“The man standing next to you.”
“Gil?”
“No, the other one.”
Maggie kept her arms wrapped around me, but turned to look behind her. She faced me again and whispered, “Wait. You don’t know him? He isn’t your boyfriend?” Her face scrunched up with confusion when she released me and took a step away.
“You can see him?”
“Yes, of course.” She met my eyes and frowned, then looked at Kai.
“Is she going to faint again?” Kai asked.
“Again?” Gil said.
“When I surprised her in Ghana, she fainted.”
“Maybe you should stop doing that,” Gil said. He stepped forward to hug me. “This was all Maggie’s doing. If you’re mad, and I’m guessing by the look on your face you are, please note I’m an unwilling party to these shenanigans,” he whispered.
“No way, mister, you’re guilty by association.” I squeezed him.
When Gil moved away, my vision centered on Kai for a moment.
Maggie stared at him, then looked at me. “He’s gorgeous,” she mouthed.
I rolled my eyes.
I had eyes, I didn’t need reminding.
Finally, my gaze met Kai’s again. He looked weird wearing wintery clothing. Weird, but still hot. I trailed my eyes down over his jacket, gray sweater, dark jeans and low boots, slowly returning to his face. Scruff covered his jaw and dark circles shadowed his eyes.
“You look terrible,” I said.
“So do you.” He grinned. “Really horrible, like death warmed over.”
I ran my hand through my hair, and then smoothed down my travel rumpled clothes. “Fuck off.”
Everyone, but me, laughed.
“You’re definitely feeling better,” Kai said.
“She’s her old self if she’s telling someone to fuck off. I’m thankful it isn’t me,” Maggie said.
I glowered at them. “Your turn will come, Maggie. Live in fear. Sleep with one eye open. You’ll never know when or where, but I will seek my revenge upon you.”
“Wow, you’re cranky. Let’s collect your baggage and bring you home.” Maggie ignored my threats and gathered my things.
After I pointed out my bags on the belt, Gil and Kai walked over to grab them, joking together like old friends.
“When did that happen?” I asked her.
“The bromance?”
I nodded.
“It was love at first sight.”
“And that was?”
“Yesterday.”
I quirked my eyebrow at her.
“It’s a long story, but your friend Ama called us after you collapsed. Kai arranged everything—the private hospital, the earlier flight home—all his doing.”
“He what?”
“Who what?” Kai stood next to me, holding the handle of my largest suitcase.
“You?”
“Me what?”
“Are we playing a game of Who’s on First?” Gil grumbled. “You stay here. I’ll get the car.”
“I’ll come with you.” Maggie trotted after him.
“One. Eye. Open. Marrion,” I called out behind her.
“Someday you’ll thank me!”
I met Kai’s worried eyes. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”
“I do? Speak for yourself,” he scoffed.
I crossed my arms and glowered.
“Give me dirty looks all you want, but I didn’t fly across the country, lose sleep for over a week, spend hours coordinating phone calls on two continents, worry about you being sick, and cut short my visit with my daughter to make sure you had help collecting your baggage.” He sighed and mirrored my defensive position. “Will you listen to me now?”
“I’m not giving you dirty looks.” I huffed. “And I’ve always let you explain yourself.”
“Right. Like the time you broke up with me over the phone? And then hung up on me? Or those text messages you ignored? Like that?” His voice held an edge.
“Okay, bad examples, but to answer your question, yes.”
“Are you only saying yes because I’m standing in front of you right now?”
He was probably right, but it would be cruel to admit. “Maybe.”
His eyes squinted into tiny slits, and he exhaled through his nose.
I was mad at him, scared of him, and desperately wanted to crawl inside of him and never leave.
Instead, I stared at him.
Nothing says, “I love you and missed you more than air,” like a good, old-fashioned staring contest.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome.” He gave me his signature shy smile and heaven help me, I smiled back. The dimple demanded submission. “We’re not finished with our conversation. Don’t think your thank you makes everything better.”
“I—”
Kai cut me off. “Gil and Maggie are outside.”
I wanted to apologize for being a bitch, but I wasn’t planning to do it in front of those two. While Gil drove us to my house, Kai sat with me, keeping to his side of the backseat, but sneaking glances in my direction. I knew he snuck glances, because I caught him when I did the same. We still hadn’t touched. Not a hug or a hand on the back or a brush of our thighs. Nothing.
It was maddening.
Maybe I repulsed him. I surreptitiously sniffed myself by turning toward the window and inhaling.
I smelled of plane and the smoky, spicy scent of Ghana.
Puddles of cold rain reflected Portland’s twinkling lights shimmering on the wet road. Foreign and overwhelming, home greeted me the best way possible—with rain and cold.
Everyone piled out of Gil’s car when we arrived at my darkened bungalow.
“What happened to Nicole?” Six months was a long time to be away and Nicole, a fellow professor, agreed to house sit. “She agreed to stay until Christmas break.”
“She and the husband reconciled,” Gil informed me. “When I called her last week to tell her you’d be coming home early, it wasn’t an issue for her to move out. Apparently, they’d returned her things to their house over Thanksgiving.”
The four of us walked up the steps to my front porch. I glanced around at my vintage patio set and porch swing—simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar. Everything looked exactly as it had when I left.
Everything was the same.
But I wasn’t.
I gave Kai sidelong looks while Gil opened the door to my house.
In what world would Kai Hendriks be walking into my little Craftsman bungalow?
Not any world I imagined. Or dared to let myself.
Standing a little bit to the side of the three of us crowded at the door, Kai shifted from foot to foot.
Maybe he needed to pee.
He caught me staring at him. “What?”
“Nothing.” I glanced away.
He sighed and straightened his shoulders. “I should go back to the hotel.”
“Nonsense,” Maggie said.
I shot her a look.
“Selah, invite him inside,” she encouraged.
“Kai, would you like to come inside?”
He arched his eyebrow. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” He stared at me, his eyes a mix of emotions.
“Too late.”
“Selah!” Maggie scolded me.
“Kai, please come inside my house.” I sarcastically grinned at Maggie.
“Is rude behavior a side effect of malaria?” she asked Kai.
He chuckled and shook his head. “None I’ve ever seen.”
“Could it be a drug reaction?”
“Could, but I think it’s Selah being Selah.” He stepped away and smiled at me.
I sighed and ignored them, walking into my house. “When you two are done, wipe off your shoes before you come inside.”
“That’s what she said,” Gil joked, laughing at himself. Maggie rolled her eyes.
I groaned. “Seriously? Does anyone still say that?”
A pair of table lamps lit the space, giving my entry and living room a warm glow.
Hello, house.
Inhaling, I smelled the familiar scents of home, dusty books, and cleaning supplies. Everything smelled overly antiseptic. Yesterday I was in Ghana. Now the past six months felt like another life. Or a dream.