Of course, it had. How could it not?
She didn’t want to hurt him by saying something stupid. “Well, the invitation to stop by the house or the kennel is open-ended. I’m so glad you’re home.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t the megawatt smile she remembered, the smile that had left her weak in the knees. “It’s good to see you, too, Kenzie.”
Then he walked away, leaving Kenzie to stare after him.
* * *
Conrad drovehome from Food Mart, groceries in the back seat. He’d picked up his 4Runner from Megs and Ahearn’s place yesterday when they’d gotten back to Scarlet. It felt strange to be behind the wheel again. He parked in the garage, carried his groceries inside, and put them away, sticking dry goods in cupboards and perishable items in the mint-green 1950s fridge.
Mrs. Beech clearly hadn’t wasted a dime modernizing. Her son had left most of her furniture in place. An old red Formica table with chrome accents and matching red-and-white vinyl chairs. A big console TV that still worked but couldn’t handle broadband. An end table with a built-in lamp. A mint-green stove that matched the fridge.
This shit was probably worth a fortune to someone.
Conrad folded the paper bags and tucked them between the fridge and the counter to use again on his next trip to the store. Then he made himself a sandwich for lunch, and sat at the table to eat, trying not to think about her—and failing.
Kenzie looked just like he’d remembered her—lush in the right places, her blue eyes bright, her face beautiful. His heart had given a hard knock the moment he’d seen her, and he’d been hit by an overpowering jolt of lust, probably setting a world record for going hard.
How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid, man?
He hadn’t hooked up with anyone in Nepal, and he hadn’t been in a relationship before he’d left. That meant it had been almost …two years?
What thehell?
The realization left him stunned—and a little depressed. Then again, he’d spent most of those two years in a monastery.
He finished his sandwich, put the plate in the kitchen sink next to his cereal bowl, and stretched out on the sofa.
Well, here he was, back in Scarlet.
He stared at the ceiling. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
He needed to call his agent. That wouldn’t be fun.
He should get his stuff out of storage. He had packed it away in the attic at The Cave. Going to get it would mean running into his fellow Team members, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.
He also needed to look for a place to live long term. Before that, he had to find out how much he still had in the bank—he’d had almost two million in assets when he’d headed off to Nepal—and start applying for jobs.
Did he need to make a resume, too?Shit.What would that say?
Profession: Climber.
Education: School of Hard Knocks.
Career goals: Just a paycheck, thanks.
Yeah, he could see that going well.
His mind drifted back to Kenzie. She had invited him to stop by her house or the kennel. It was the only idea that held any appeal. He’d be able to see her again and Gizmo, too.
I’ve been really worried about you.
He’d been able to see in her eyes that she’d meant what she’d said, and it touched him to know she cared about him. Now that he wasn’t on the Team, that barrier between them was gone. But it didn’t change the fact that the two of them had little in common. She had a college education, a couple of successful businesses, and a life here in Scarlet. Conrad was unemployed with a high school diploma, a climbing resume, a good chunk of money in savings—but no idea what to do with his future.
Outside of the climbing world, what was he good for? He could be a handyman. His father had taught him how to do most anything. Or he could work in a climbing gym or a gear shop selling shit to climbers who would look at him and see a has-been.
Despair settled in his chest like a lead weight, and for a time, he didn’t budge.
