Saving Kylie

“Would you like to stay?” he asked.

Kylie nodded and reached down to clasp his hand. She held it tight while she searched his gaze. “I would. I think getting to know your parents is a lovely idea.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “What about you?”

What he wanted—to get his ass home and in bed before he could do any more damage—didn’t seem to matter much.

“We can stay,” he said finally.

Eight

Kylie shoved back from the

table wearing a huge grin she sure didn’t feel. Even her distractingly warm bottom only highlighted how far they’d come since that amazing session on Justin’s counter. “Thank you. This was wonderful.”

“Oh, but don’t you want another piece of pie?” Mrs. Norton rose and gestured toward the kitchen. As big as the dining room was, the house had a warm, intimate feel that Kylie loved. “We barely dug into the pumpkin, and you loved the lemon meringue one so much. Have another. Please.”

Kylie dabbed her mouth with the napkin and swung a quick look at Justin. He was pushing the crust from his slice of pumpkin around his plate and not looking at any of them.

Throughout the meal, he’d been pleasant enough—replying when spoken to, laughing at appropriate moments, even occasionally making inquiries of his own. But there was no denying the tension that hung thickly over the table, even more weighty than the whipped-cream-laden pies Mrs. Norton had delighted in setting out.

He didn’t want to be there, and considering his past with his stepfather, she didn’t altogether blame him. Justin was an honest guy down to the core, and to him, sitting there and breaking bread like a family probably felt like a lie. She just wished he could see his mother and stepfather the way she did, as an observer. They were happy together, their own little family. Justin felt like an intruder because he didn’t know how to accept that, not because he wasn’t wanted.

And yep, she’d been playing pop psychologist way too long at the bar if she was getting all that from just a simple Thanksgiving dinner.

“Oh, I’m stuffed, thanks,” she murmured.

Truth was, she could’ve happily inhaled another slice of pie, despite the fact that she’d already had two. Justin’s mom was a fabulous cook, and she’d really enjoyed the meal, tension aside. It was nice to get to know more about Justin from his mom, even if he’d barely commented most of the times Mrs. Norton had remarked upon incidents from his childhood.

Either he didn’t want to go there period or he didn’t want to go there with Kylie present. He probably figured she’d get the wrong idea about them having dinner at his parents.

First he’d spanked her, and then she’d shared the family turkey. Matching china patterns had to be next, right? Even if this morning it had seemed as if he’d happily push them in that direction, tonight, post spanking, they’d entered a whole new realm.

She rubbed her sore temples. Jeez, men were so fucking complicated.

“Are you okay, dear? Would you like an aspirin?”

“I’m fine.” She offered Mrs. Norton a strained smile, well aware of the fact that Justin hadn’t chimed in with his concern. He’d pretty much made a career out of brooding at his plate. Between him and his stepfather, yet another gruff, mostly silent male, they made quite the pair.

But that wasn’t what Justin was really like at all. He’d never been like this before, not in college and not during the many hours they’d spent together at the bar. The new facets she’d seen of her steady, understanding friend the last couple of days were revelations—some amazing, some painful.

Either way, she had a lot more to learn about Justin Norton. And vice freaking versa, if he believed she’d cry and cringe away from him because he’d given her exactly what they both needed during sex.

If that was even what his pulling away had been about. She wasn’t so sure about anything anymore.

“Let me help,” she suggested as his parents began clearing the table. Though Mr. Norton didn’t say much, he certainly hustled to help his wife cart away dishes.

“No, no, you’re a guest. Sit. Relax.” Mrs. Norton balanced a pie tin in the crook of her arm and smiled at her son, who was looking anywhere but at her. “We have new puppies. You’ll want to see them before you go.”

“Puppies?” She grinned and bumped her leg against Justin’s. He barely cracked a smile. It stunned her how much she wanted to find a way to make him happy again. “Let’s go look. Please.”

She half expected him to brush her off, but he nodded and set down his fork. He wiped his mouth with the napkin and rolled his shoulders, seemingly steeling himself for whatever was to come. “It’s getting late, so we probably should head out now.”

His mother paused in the doorway and bobbed her head. She’d probably guessed that he wanted to book it out of there, judging from her resigned expression. “Sure thing. The dogs are downstairs in the basement. I’ll show you.”

“That’s all right, Mom. I remember the way.” He stood and collected both his plate and Kylie’s. “Let me help you with these and—”

“No, just leave them.” Mrs. Norton stared at her son, her eyes strangely bright. “Happy Thanksgiving, both of you. It was lovely meeting you, Kylie. I really hope to see you again.”

Before she could figure out how to speak over the lump in her throat, Mrs. Norton had fled up the hall. Her husband murmured similar sentiments and followed.