Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

DANI

B ang. Bang. Bang.

I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to wake up. It's too early, I'm too tired, and my bed is so warm and cozy. And then reality slams into me.

It's not early, it's late, and I'm warm because Kyle is a furnace in his sleep.

"Shit. Shit!" The second exclamation is louder as I peek at my clock. It's after eight! That means it's Nessa banging on my door. "Kyle! Wake up! We overslept."

He grumbles, but then his eyes pop open too. "What time is it?"

"After eight!"

"Fuck."

We're dancing around my room, pulling clothes on here and bumping into each other there, but in under sixty seconds, we're striding for the front door together.

I unlock the door, flinging it open and already apologizing. "Sorry, Nessa. I overslept. Come on in."

She doesn't hear a word I say because she's staring at Kyle as he pulls his shirt over his head. He grabs me by the back of the neck, places a firm kiss to my forehead, and then grins at me like he knows he's leaving me to the third inquisition with Nessa.

"Well, good morning, Sugarbear. Where're my forehead kisses?" She leans forward like she thinks Kyle's going to kiss her too, and I must make some sound of ‘fuck no' because they both look at me with glee dancing in their eyes.

"Can I help with groceries?" Kyle offers, but Nessa shakes her head.

"No, I need you to get out of here so I can ask all my dirty, filthy, way too detailed questions without you hearing Dani's answers. So skedaddle… shoo." She waves her hand at Kyle, and he steps around her, jumping from the porch to the yard.

"Ask her how many times," he calls over his shoulder, and I gawk after him.

"He did not just say that."

Nessa grins, nodding. "Oh, he did. Now come grab these bags so we have a minute to talk."

I'm still barefoot, but I step out front and see that there's already a concrete truck in Kathy's back yard and Wayne, Zeus, Frogger, and a whole crew of concrete guys are watching Kyle walk directly from my house to the jobsite. He might as well be wearing a sign that says ‘ I fucked Dani and slept over too .'

Zeus throws me a two-finger wave, or he tries to, but Kyle backhands him in the chest and he collapses, laughing at the reprimand.

"We already knew," Nessa informs me, picking up a handful of bags from her backseat. "I pulled up, and Wayne jerked his head toward Kyle's bike in your driveway. Pretty sure we're gonna compare notes later."

"You and Wayne are buddy-buddy now?" I ask, confused at that news.

"No, but those who enjoy tea recognize others who are tea aficionados. And Wayne's here bright and early every morning when I deliver your groceries, so we know what's what."

I give Wayne another glance… or glare might be more like it. But he's talking to Kyle and doesn't notice.

"Speaking of things you haven't noticed," Nessa says, and I turn back to her. "You haven't noticed the little issue you're going to have today." She jerks her chin, and I follow where she's gesturing, only to see Kathy's big Cadillac sedan parked in front of my house at the curb. Not only in front, though. She's parked in the middle of my curb, effectively taking up the entire length of space in front of my house, leaving no room for even one of my customers to park behind her or in front of her.

"That bitch! What the fuck?"

I must say it louder than I mean to because I can feel the weight of Kyle's eyes on me, and when I look over at him, he's already coming this way. His jaw is tight, and he runs his fingers through his hair, looking frustrated as hell.

But not as frustrated as I am or my customers are going to be.

"I told her the concrete truck would need her driveway clear today because once it's in place, it won't move until they're done. So she had to get her car out early if she was getting out at all. Guess she figured out where it'd cause the biggest problem." He doesn't look happy about where Kathy's parked either, but it's completely legal. I'm sure of it because I've argued that fact dozens of times when her rampage against me initially began. "She's supposed to be in and out for pickleball, at least."

"Hopefully, she leaves early, twists her ankle, and spends the rest of the day at the ER getting an Ace wrap put on," I snarl. I'm not wishing any major pain and agony on her, just something minorly annoying that'll keep her gone all day and out of my way.

"I'm sorry," Kyle says, sounding truly apologetic.

But it's not his fault. It's just Kathy being her own miserable self and dragging everyone else down with her.

"It's fine. I'll figure it out." I sigh. "I need to get cooking, anyway."

By the time my lunch rush starts, I've got a system. The trucks pull up in front of Kathy's house side by side instead of in front of mine. It makes for a longer hike for me to deliver each bag of lunches, but at least I can keep the flow going steadily.

"Neighbor being a problem again?" Leon asks when he comes by, and I glare at her car, which hasn't moved yet. "Yeah, I figured that was why that pretty smile of yours was looking a little frayed around the edges. Don't let her get you down, girl. The day's beautiful, we're alive to enjoy it, and we're gonna have good food in our bellies. Can't be too upset with all that good going on."

Leon is the opposite of Kathy's ‘misery loves company' and believes in ‘happiness shared is a blessing for all', and I appreciate his gentle reminder today because truly, it is a great day. I was up all night, alternating between talking with Kyle and having more orgasms in eight hours than I've had in the previous year in total, and I felt like we connected in a deeper way than just a meaningless fuck.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I might actually want to spend more time with someone. Or… gulp … date him.

Which is terrifying. And awesome. And, did I mention… terrifying?

Still, I decide to take a page from Leon's playbook and spread a little happiness, starting with the crew next door. I know the concrete guys. They've been customers before, but I can't assume they'll want lunch, so I text Kyle.

How many of the guys over there want lunch today? $10 each. Poblano chili pasta, grilled chicken, cucumber salad.

I'm in the kitchen, peeking out the window when Kyle reads the text. I watch as a smile blooms on his face, he gets the guys' attention, and then reads it out loud. A hoot of excitement sounds out among them, and I laugh at how little it takes to make them happy. It's not until Frogger tries to high-five Kyle that I realize it seems like he fucked me into making them lunch.

Didn't he?

I decide not to examine that too closely and get back to work, chopping up another batch of cucumbers, tomatoes, red onions, jalape?os, and cilantro for the salad.

8. I'll cover it for everyone. Thank you.

There's a kissy face emoji at the end that makes me warm, remembering the forehead kiss from this morning. As hot as all the other kissing was that we did last night, that kiss might be my favorite.

I make a few more deliveries out front, walking in the street between the two rows of trucks to pass out the orders, and then fill two bags for next door. I probably shouldn't be doing this… not the lunches, but the delivery part. Considering Kathy's car hasn't moved, I'm sure she's inside, watching me walk hundreds more steps for every trip out and celebrating her brilliance with every lap I make.

Still, I'm delivering lunches. That can't be too bad.

I walk to the fence at the end of our yard and U-turn back around, carefully walking past the concrete truck to where the guys are in Kathy's back yard. They've got a good portion of the concrete filled into the hole and are smoothing it up the walls and through the rebar forms.

"Lunch!" I call out, grinning.

"Fuck yeah!" Zeus shouts, his fists punching the air.

"Thank you, Dani," Dwight, the concrete lead, says. "It's good to see you. We haven't been on this side of town much lately."

"Glad to see you today, then."

Kyle takes the bags from me, and they start passing out the Styrofoam boxes, talking happily and excitedly about my food.

"Excuse me, what are you doing on my property?" a voice snipes from the house.

I look up and sigh.

It's Kathy, standing at her back door with a sneering look of distaste directed solely at me. "Just delivering lunch to the guys. I'm leaving," I say, holding my hands out and already taking a couple of steps toward the front.

"You are not allowed on my property. I'm calling the police."

Kyle steps forward. "Kathy, that's not necessary. Dani brought over the lunches I bought for the guys today as a treat. She's leaving now. Everything's fine."

Kathy turns her full vitriol on him now that he's made himself a target. "It is not fine. She knows she's not supposed to be here, and I don't want her food over here, either. Take that slop with you," she orders me.

I've never been one for self-preservation or good decisions, though, so as I take another slow step, I offer, "No problem. Hey guys, my food's not allowed here, apparently, so if you want to sit under the tree in my back yard while you eat lunch, you're welcome to." I point at the tree along the back fence line that gives a healthy spread of shade.

Zeus and Frogger are already hopping the fence between the two yards, balancing their boxed lunches in one hand as they do so.

"No!" Kathy screeches. "Get back to work! Nobody's leaving until my concrete's done."

Kyle pins Kathy with a hard, steady, frosty glare. "Mrs. Wilson, my guys will be taking their allotted thirty-minute lunch and can do so anywhere they'd like as they are off the clock for that time. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with the state's labor board."

With that, Kyle twirls a finger in the air, signaling for us to gather up, and he begins walking. I stay at Kyle's side, with Dwight and his guys following, and Wayne bringing up the back of our train as we go out of Kathy's yard, into mine, and to the tree. The whole time, Kathy is shouting at Kyle to get back to work and to get back over here, and some other blubbering, angry nonsense with a lot of pointing and arm flailing toward her pool.

When she realizes no one is paying her any mind, she slams her door so hard that it rattles in its frame.

My heart is racing as the guys all settle in the shade. "She's gonna make your life hell for that, you know that, right?" I tell Kyle.

He shrugs, seeming completely unaffected by Kathy's tantrum. "She can try. I'm more worried about her making your life hell."

He cuts cold eyes toward Kathy's. I glance over to see that though she's closed the door, she's still glaring out the window at me, and I know he's right.

"I've already taken her on at her worst and won. Now, I just have to keep reminding myself that I don't look good in orange and the food in prison sucks." I whisper it like it's a mantra to keep me from stomping over there and offering to go at it with Kathy again even though I can't afford that, mentally or financially.

"You could cook for the whole prison," Kyle suggests, his mouth full of pasta and his smile wide. "You'd be the safest person there because no one fucks with the chef."

"You did," Zeus murmurs, and Kyle whips his head around.

"Watch it, Preston," he warns, pointing at him with his plastic fork.

But it's good-natured teasing and in the end, I laugh along with everyone else because Zeus isn't wrong. Kyle did fuck the cook, and I fucked him right back.

As the guys start eating, moaning and proclaiming how delicious it is, I get back to work, running more orders out front. It's not until fifteen minutes later that shit really hits the fan.

Whoop-whoop.

I freeze in my kitchen, a scoop of cucumber salad in one hand and a box in the other. That sounded like… a police siren.

She did not actually call the police on me, did she?

My head falls back, and I stare unseeingly at the ceiling. Of course, she did.

I slap the cucumber salad in the box, slam it shut, and stomp outside. I give it to the driver of the truck parked up front, who wisely doesn't say a word before pulling away, and then stand in my yard, waiting my turn because the officer is at Kathy's front door, listening to her sob story.

She's gesturing wildly toward my house, her face all screwed up like she's crying, but there's not a drop of wetness coming from her eyes. It's all for show to make herself out to be the victim.

"It's a good thing I was here to see her or I wouldn't have even known," Kathy exclaims. "I guess I'm glad my pickleball was canceled, because she just came traipsing over here, completely uninvited. It's trespassing at least, probably solicitation too because why else would all of my staff be at her house instead of working like they're supposed to be?" She's talking loud enough for me to hear across the yard, making sure that I catch every infuriating bit of her insults and assumptions loud and clear.

I should let it go, but it's not in my nature to let her tell lies on my name.

Furious, I shout, "Are you serious, Kathy? You're suggesting that whoring myself out, taking on two whole crews train-style, is the more likely possibility, not them just wanting to eat lunch?" I throw my arm out, motioning to the eight guys who're standing beneath my tree, open Styrofoam boxes in hand, watching the fallout over a simple delivery.

At my outburst, the officer looks over his shoulder to gauge whether I'm a threat.

I know what he sees—Kathy is obviously wealthy, older, and visibly upset, while I'm poor, young, and obscenely mouthy. To him, I'm the problem, of course.

He's not wrong. I am a problem, but so is Kathy. Despite her freshly colored blonde bob, designer clothes, and upstanding citizen act, I'd say she's actually the bigger problem of the two of us.

"Miss, please calm down."

Behind the officer, Kathy's fake cries vanish and she looks at me eagerly, wanting me to do something… anything … that'll get me in the trouble she's desperately bringing to my doorstep.

Unconsciously, I take a step toward Kathy and the officer, but Kyle's hand lands on my stomach, physically holding me back. I didn't even hear him approach, too laser-locked on my enemy next door. "Don't let her win," he growls into my ear.

"I can't let her get him on her side with all the lies and half-truths," I hiss, irritated that he's stopping me.

"She wants you to fuck up, and if you go over there, you are. She'll win. Don't let her, Dani. You're better than that. Better than her."

I don't need his help. I sure as fuck don't need him bringing logic and reason to the table when I've got my guns a'blazing, ready to go full war on her.

I've dealt with Kathy, the police, and so much more. It's been hard, but I've managed, carrying the weight of her drama all on my own capable shoulders. And I can do it again if I have to.

Hell, I've always known I would. A woman like Kathy doesn't lose and retreat quietly. No, she loses and goes back to her evil lair to plot for another attack. And I handed her one on a silver platter by going onto her property.

My fucking mistake. I got too lax and was too distracted by wanting to do something nice for the guys.

"Daniela." Kyle gets right in my face, nose to nose, and uses my full name the way he does when we're being intimate. It's maybe the only thing that snaps me out of the red-blurred rage I'm falling into. When I meet his eyes, he grits out, "I've got you."

I want to argue, but the officer is walking this way, his eyes jumping left to right, considering me and Kyle, and I'll admit—if only to myself—that it's nice to have someone at my side this time.

No, not someone.

Kyle.

He's doing it again, not saving me, exactly, but supporting me in his quiet, kind way that makes me not want to fight against him. It's so different from the overbearing, takeover approach other people, like my parents, use. Kyle makes me feel capable while still backing me up, like he knows I can handle it but doesn't want me to have to do it alone.

"Miss, I understand that you went onto Mrs. Wilson's property?" The officer's stopped right in front of us, his feet wide and his hands propped on his belt in a studied attempt to appear intimidating.

"I did, but?—"

"Afraid there's no ‘but' about it. You're not allowed to trespass onto other people's property. Now, Mrs. Wilson is requesting that I ticket you?—"

Kyle interrupts this time. "Excuse me, Officer, but I feel I might have some culpability here. I'm the one who ordered lunch from Ms. Becerra today for my crews, and she was delivering the food to me at the time, so if you're going to issue a ticket to anyone, I'll take it and handle it myself."

Every word is correct, polite, and even proper. But Kyle's tone is dead-flat, which sounds more menacing than if he was growling, and it definitely gets the officer's attention.

"And you are?" the officer says, his lip curling in distaste as he looks at Kyle.

Admittedly, Kyle looks rough. The sun's been hot today, and they've been hard at work with the concrete, so his boots and jeans are heavily splattered with gray specks and his shirt is wet with sweat from his neck to his abs.

Kyle holds a dirty hand out. "Kyle Harrington." He puts an odd emphasis on his last name that I don't understand. I also don't understand why the officer shakes Kyle's hand so quickly and his entire mood shifts.

"So, you're saying she was just bringing you food?" the officer clarifies, talking to Kyle instead of me now and magically, no longer threatening tickets that come with hefty fines I can't afford, but rather, making the whole thing sound like a minor misunderstanding.

But I'm not letting Kyle take the fall for this, not when it's something I did and knew better than to do. "Like I was trying to tell you?—"

"Yes sir, just bringing me and the guys lunch." Kyle talks over me, and I nearly jump down his throat because this is exactly what I don't need… someone taking control and thinking they know better than I do about something that affects me, most of all. "She made the most delicious poblano chili pasta with chicken and a cucumber salad. I'd be happy to spot you one if you haven't eaten yet?"

I'm going to explode. It's gonna be ugly and the earth will be scorched in a big, black circle of destruction when I'm done. I can feel the words bubbling up from my gut and coating the back of my tongue, ready to tell this officer to fuck off, Kyle to get the fuck away from me, and Kathy to go fuck herself.

It doesn't get any better when Kyle lays his arm over my shoulders and pulls me to his side sharply. I don't go willingly, my feet planted firmly, so the pressure of his arm makes me lean awkwardly, and I jerk away, trying to break free, but he holds me there like it's some kind of claim in front of the officer. "Dani wouldn't mind making another plate, would you?"

I look at Kyle, on the verge of spitting all the venom I'm feeling directly at him, and though he's smiling, his eyes are screaming at me like he knows what I'm thinking and wants me to swallow it down right this instant.

"Wish I could, but that'd be against department policy. Another time, maybe?" the officer answers hopefully. "But I think we can call this an unofficial warning and not get any paperwork involved, don't you think?" He smiles at Kyle like they're new-found best buddies, all but forgetting I exist.

"Sounds good."

They shake hands again, and the officer tips an imaginary hat at me, suddenly gentlemanly and nice instead of assholish and presumptive. "Good fences make for good neighbors, ma'am. I'd suggest you stay on your side of that one."

With that, he walks back toward his car.

I stare after him, my mouth hanging open for a long second, and then I backhand Kyle's stomach, pushing him away when he flinches and folds forward a bit. "What the fuck was that?"

He pins me with a hard look. "Sometimes, my name is a curse. Other times, it's useful. He was going to give you a ticket, so I stopped it."

"You mean you railroaded right over me, taking control before I even had a chance to explain myself, and handled things how you saw fit like I wouldn't have an opinion on the matter. Or if I did, like my opinion didn't matter."

I feel betrayed by what Kyle just did. I recognize that he helped me. I do see that, and on some level, I even appreciate it, but it's the way he did it. I thought he was going to be supportive and even welcomed that, which was a big trust for me. I should've known better. It's right back to him tackling Joshua before I could manage the situation myself. It's right back to my parents thinking they know what's best for me and not listening to anything outside their own echo chamber. It's back to making me feel like I'm not capable and need to let the men in my life deal with the big, important stuff.

"Dani—"

I don't give him a chance to explain. I'm too mad. No, anger isn't what I'm feeling. I'm not exactly in touch with all my emotions on a therapy-level, but this is hurt and embarrassment. I can distinguish that much, at least.

"Fuck you, Kyle," I snarl as I leave him behind me, high-kneeing it back toward the house.

In the kitchen, I slam some dishes into the sink, needing to let this anger out somehow, and through the window, I see Kyle going back to the guys, who look worried about everything that just played out.

Kyle says something to them too quiet for me to hear through the back screen door, but I sure as shit hear Kathy shouting at them from her patio.

"You boys need to get back to work."

Dwight and his guys start moving instantly, but Kyle holds out a staying hand toward them and they freeze.

"Mrs. Wilson, the conversation with the police officer took up fifteen minutes of their allotted lunch time. As that was work- related, they are owed that time and will be continuing their break until they get their full thirty. Also, they don't work for you, they work for me, so do not tell my workers— my men —to do or not do a single damn thing. The only person you employ here is me, and that is limited to the scope of our contract. Understood?"

I inhale sharply. Kyle just put a huge target on his back, taking it from his crew and Dwight's.

I can see the parallel that, in a way, that's what he did for me too. The difference is, as their boss, Kyle's responsible for his workers. He's not responsible for me. The only person responsible for me is… me.

"Well, I never! " Kathy huffs, and I can't help but roll my eyes. That's the problem. She's never been told no and has delusions of grandeur and importance. But Kyle's verbal kickback does result in Kathy closing the door, or well, slamming it again, but it's an empty victory.

Kyle turns back to the other guys, and they slowly start eating again, talking among themselves. I see them glancing at my back door, and though nobody makes a move to come toward it, thankfully, they're grinning and laughing like this whole thing was quite the spectacle. I'm pretty sure they're even reenacting it with Zeus playing the part of me at Kyle's side, who is played by Frogger. Apparently, I looked like a raging bull about to rampage.

Honestly, I felt like one too.

At one point, Kyle flips Zeus off and glances toward the window above the sink like he can feel me glaring at him from my hidden vantage point. As I look at him, trying to figure out what just happened, I remember a song about milkshakes bringing boys to the yard, but I think my version of it is that my food seems to bring all the assholes to my yard. Literally.

And one asshole in particular.