Read, Write, Love (Love in Bloom: The Remingtons, Book 5) Contemporary Romance, Page 2

  The possibility of him being crazy went out the door. Crazy people don’t carry dogs like babies.

  He shifted Pepper to one arm and handed her a fresh towel. “Here. I’m Kurt, by the way.”

  Pepper sat up in his arms, panting happily. Show-off.

  “Thank you. I’m Leanna. That’s Pepper.” She tried to mop up the floor around her. Every swipe of the towel brought more drips from her sopping-wet clothing. “I’m sorry about this. For the mess. And my dog. And…” She frantically wiped the floor with the dishrag in one hand, using the fisted towel in the other to scrub her clothes, trying desperately to stop the river that ran from her clothes to his no-longer-pristine floor. She lifted her gaze. He had a slightly amused smile on his very handsome face. She rose to her feet with a defeated sigh.

  “I’m so sorry, and thank you for rescuing Pepper.”

  He glanced at his laptop, and that amused look quickly turned to pinched annoyance. His lips pressed into a tight line, and when he glanced at her again, it was with a brooding look, before stepping forward and closing his laptop.

  “You should have”—Pepper barked in his ear; he closed his eyes and exhaled—“had the dog on a leash.”

  The dog.

  “He hates it. He hates listening, leashes, lots of things.” Pepper licked Kurt’s cheek. “Except you, I guess.”

  Kurt winced and set Pepper on the floor. “Sit,” he said in a deep, stern voice.

  Pepper sat at his feet.

  “How did you do that? He never listens.”

  He dried Pepper’s feet with the towel, apparently ignoring the question.

  “Labradoodle?”

  You know dogs? She was intrigued by the dichotomy of him. He was sharp, brooding, and maybe even a little cold, yet Pepper followed him to the fireplace as if he were handing out doggy biscuits. Leanna couldn’t help but notice the way Kurt’s wet jeans hugged his ass. His very hot ass. He crouched before the fireplace, his shirt clinging tightly to his broad back, his sleeves hitched up above his bulging biceps, and she made out the outline of a tattoo on his upper arm.

  “Yeah, Labradoodle. How’d you know? He looks like a wet mutt right now.”

  He shrugged, expertly fashioning a teepee of kindling, then starting a small fire. “Where’s your place?” He slid an annoyed look at Pepper and shook his head.

  “Um, my place?” she said, distracted as much by Pepper’s obedience as by Kurt’s tattoo. What is that? A snake? Dragon?

  He looked at her with that amused glint in his eyes again. “House? Cottage? Campsite?”

  “Oh, cottage. Sorry.” She felt her cheeks flush. “It’s about a mile and a half from here. Seaside? Do you know it? My parents own it. I’m just staying for the summer. I’ve known the other people in the community forever, and Pepper likes it there.”

  He looked back at the fireplace, the amusement in his expression replaced with seriousness. “Come over by the fire. Warm up.”

  She tossed the towels on the counter and joined him by the fire, shivering as she warmed her hands.

  He kept his eyes trained on the fire.

  “Did you drive here?” He picked up a log in one big hand and settled it on the fire.

  “No. I biked.”

  “Biked?”

  “I bike here a couple times each week with Pepper, but we usually go the other way down the beach. Pepper just took off this time. I left my bike by the public beach entrance.”

  His eyes slid to Pepper, then back to the fire. “I don’t know Seaside, but let me change and I’ll drive you home.” He headed toward the stairs with Pepper on his heels. Kurt stopped and stared at the dog. Pepper panted for all he was worth. Kurt looked at Leanna, as if she could control the dog.

  Fat chance. “He’s not really an obedient pet.” She shrugged.

  Kurt picked up Pepper and brought him to Leanna. “Hold his collar.”

  Okay, then. She looped her finger in Pepper’s collar and watched Kurt go into the kitchen and wipe the floor with the towel he’d given her. Then he wiped the counter with a sponge before disappearing into the alcove by the kitchen. He returned with a laundry basket, tossed the dirty towels in, and then returned the basket to where he’d found it and climbed the stairs.

  “Guess he doesn’t really like dirt…or dogs after all,” she said to Pepper.

  Pepper broke free and ran up the stairs after Kurt.

  Leanna closed her eyes with a loud sigh.

  Just shoot me now.

  Chapter Two

  KURT STOOD IN the bright bathroom in a fresh pair of black Calvin Klein briefs, drying the remaining dampness from his arms and legs. His night of writing was shot to hell. How was he supposed to concentrate on writing a dark thriller with a wet dog and an insanely sexy woman in the room? Her clothes clung to every curve of her womanly body, and it had taken all his focus to look away. And she was cute, too. Damn cute, the way she fought him to save that damn dog. Pepper. Pepper? The dog was white, not an ounce of black on the thing anywhere. Pepper? How about Salty or Sugar? He shook his head, thinking about the way she looked up at him with those almond-shaped hazel eyes of hers, all flustered as she tried to wipe up the floor.

  He ran his hand through his wet hair, tossed his wet clothing into the rattan hamper, and went into the bedroom to get dressed.

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” Pepper was sprawled across his white comforter. “Get off there.” Pepper sat up and panted eagerly.

  Great. Wet dog smell. Kurt tucked Pepper under one arm and tugged the blanket off the bed with the other, bundled it under his arm, and carried both downstairs.

  “Here.” He handed the dog to Leanna and took the blanket to the laundry room, mumbling under his breath about his muse running away as he filled the washer and tossed the blanket in. He was about to head upstairs when Leanna’s dead stare stopped him cold.

  “What?”

  “Um. Nothing.” She crinkled her nose, dropped her eyes, and trapped her lower lip between her teeth.

  Too damn cute.

  He followed her gaze south to his briefs and realized he’d forgotten to finish dressing.

  “Christ.” He shook his head. “Thank Pepper for that.” He went back upstairs to dress and swore he heard her whispering thank you to the damn dog.

  Kurt returned with a Duke sweatshirt and another dry towel. “Here.” He handed the sweatshirt to Leanna. “I don’t want you to freeze. You can change in the bathroom.”

  “Thank you, but I only live a few minutes away. I don’t want to take your stuff.”

  “Really, it’s fine.” He walked to the door and slipped his feet into his flip-flops. When he turned around, her bare back was to him, the thin pink line of her bra barely visible beneath her wet, dark hair. Kurt’s eyes followed her smooth, tanned skin down the graceful curve of her back to the flare of her hips in her low-rise shorts. A second later the pink, lacy bra fell to the ground and his sweatshirt slipped over her head, covering that beautiful back—and leaving him hot all over.

  She turned around with a sweet smile and a sigh. “That’s so much better.”

  He shook his head again to knock himself out of his gawking stupor. “I’m sorry. I thought…” He looked toward the alcove by the stairs. “The bathroom is right over there.”

  “Oh, I’m not shy.” She swatted the air. “Besides, I had my back to you, so it’s not like you saw me naked. Thank you, by the way. This is so much comfier than my wet shirt and that awful bra.” She shivered.

  Awful bra? “Are…?” He cleared his throat in an effort to clear the image of her bare back from his mind. It didn’t work. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure. Thanks again.” She joined him by the door.

  He looked down at her bare feet. “Shoes?”

  “Oh gosh. I didn’t even notice. I think I lost them in the water. It’s okay. I have more.” She went out the door with a bounce in her step and ran through the rain to the passenger side of his liquid-silver Mercedes SL conver
tible.

  Kurt carried Pepper to the car to keep his paws from getting muddy again. After Leanna settled into the passenger seat, he set the towel at her feet and placed Pepper on top of it.

  “Stay,” he commanded. By the time he started the car, Pepper had inched his way across Leanna’s lap to the center console, where he put his fluffy white face on his front paws and breathed through his nose, blinking his big, dark eyes at Kurt.

  “I’m really sorry, but even if I wrestle with him, he won’t listen. He never has.” Leanna petted Pepper’s back.

  Kurt bit his tongue about the dog dirtying up his car. Apparently, it wouldn’t do any good anyway, according to little Miss Adorably Sexy Not Shy Leanna. She gave Kurt directions to Seaside, and he drove the main drag, trying not to worry about the dog on the leather or the lacy pink bra in Leanna’s hand.

  In an effort to distract himself, he asked, “How long have you had him?”

  “Pepper? I don’t know. A year, maybe?” She kissed his damp white fur.

  “And he still doesn’t listen?” Kurt glanced at the dog, who had fallen fast asleep and was snoring.

  “I try, but…” She shrugged. “He’s kind of a free spirit, like me, I guess.” She rolled up the sleeves of Kurt’s sweatshirt and swiped at the half-wet, half-dry hair hanging unkempt around her pretty face.

  Free spirit. He thought about her bare back and felt his body warm again.

  She looked down, tugging at the bottom of his sweatshirt. “Did you go to Duke?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Pepper sighed in his sleep.

  “I went to UVA. Business major.”

  She lowered her cheek to Pepper’s back, and all Kurt could think about was the smell of wet dog—and how he’d really like to be that wet dog. Christ. Stop it. He needed a talkative free spirit like he needed writer’s block. He trained his eyes on the road and begged his mind to follow. The rain eased to a drizzle as he pulled into Seaside Cottages.

  “I really appreciate you driving me home. I could have walked if it wasn’t raining.” She pointed to the right. “Follow the road this way, but go slow. There are chipmunks around here.”

  “Chipmunks?”

  “Yeah. I see them in the mornings. I don’t know if they come out in the rain or not, but I wouldn’t want you to run one over.”

  Chipmunks. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even noticed a chipmunk. He followed the narrow gravel road up an incline to a fork and went around to the right, as she directed him. Pitch pine trees lined the road and filled the tight spaces between the small, one-story shingled cottages.

  “That’s me. Right there.” She pointed to a driveway paved with seashells.

  As he pulled in, he asked, “Do you have a car?” It was common to bike on the Cape, but most people had vehicles, even if they opted not to use them. The seashells crunched beneath his tires. Crushed seashell driveways were common on Cape Cod, and every time Kurt drove onto them, he silently hoped they didn’t slit his tires.

  “Uh-huh. It’s so big that it blocks my view of my friend’s cottage when I’m on my deck.” She shrugged. “So I park it over at the laundry room.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and stroked Pepper’s back.

  The cottage couldn’t have been more than twenty feet wide, with lavender shutters and a weathered fence around a deck on the side. The front garden was a mishmash of flowers and bushes, which reminded Kurt of Leanna—a little unkempt, a little wild, and incredibly pretty. He parked and went around to open her door, pondering the idea of a separate laundry room.

  “Thanks. I could have done that.” Pepper jumped across her lap and circled Kurt’s feet. “Pepper thanks you, too. Did I tell you that I found him near a dumpster? He was so skinny I thought he was going to die. You’d think he’d listen to me since I saved his life, but no such luck. He’s kind of like the worst best friend you ever had.” She stepped from the car and touched Kurt’s chest to steady herself as she tugged at her wet shorts, without missing a beat of her solo conversation. “He only listens to me when he feels like it.” She shrugged. “But I love him, so…”

  Kurt barely registered her explanation past the feel of her hand on his chest. It had been months since he’d been close to a woman. He’d been on constant deadlines, and women had been the farthest things from his mind.

  Until now.

  “Come on in and have a drink. Hey. The rain stopped. That’s lucky.” She opened the gate to the deck. “Come on, Pepper.”

  Before he could comprehend her offer, she had disappeared. He was about to close the passenger door when he noticed her bra and T-shirt on the floor. He groaned and picked them up, wrapping her T-shirt over her bra so she didn’t think he was a pervert fingering her lingerie, although that’s exactly what he’d like to do. If it were still on her.

  Two towels, a bathing suit, and a T-shirt hung over the deck railing, drenched from the rain. The deck was fairly large for such a small cottage, with a grill and patio table and chairs. There was a back gate to the deck, and beyond that, a grassy area and a few more cottages, each with brightly colored shutters. The word quaint came to mind. Kurt knocked on the wooden edge of the screen door.

  Leanna came out of a room holding the bottom of his sweatshirt between her teeth and zipping up a pair of jeans—but not before Kurt got an eyeful of bare skin where panties should have been.

  She waved him in as she released the bottom of the sweatshirt. “Come in.”

  He stepped inside and quickly cataloged his surroundings. The kitchen and narrow living space spanned the width of the cottage, and was devoid of any seating besides a small table with three chairs pushed against the wall to his right. Pepper was sacked out beneath the table. Kurt’s neck muscles tightened as he glanced at the line of green cabinets along the left wall, beneath which was a sink full of dishes. Every square inch of table and countertop was covered with jam and jelly jars, big metal pots, spoons, and other dishes streaked with dried red goo. An enormous mound of sneakers, flip-flops, and rain boots were piled on the floor to his left beside Pepper’s food and water bowls. Directly across from where he stood was a slightly open door. He caught a glimpse of a sink just beyond. Bathroom.

  Holy. Shit.

  “This is…cute.”

  She smiled as she reached for the refrigerator door. “Thanks. There’s a really cute loft through there.” She pointed toward the door to Kurt’s right. “Old-fashioned pull-down stairs, too. My brothers and sister and I used to fight over who got to sleep up there. You can’t even stand up there, the ceiling’s so low, but we loved it. And there’s a pull-out couch in that room and a television, but I never use them.” She shrugged and stared into the nearly empty fridge. A second later she pulled out two bottles of beer and used the inside of his Duke sweatshirt to cover the tops as she twisted them off.

  “Here.” She handed a bottle to Kurt and dropped her gaze to her shirt and bra, still in his hand.

  “Oh gosh,” she said with another cute crinkle of her nose. She took them from him in exchange for the beer. “I swear I wouldn’t remember my head if it weren’t screwed on.” She opened the door of the room she’d come out of earlier and literally tossed the wet clothes into it. Kurt assumed that was her bedroom. Then she picked up a stack of clothes from a chair and carried it into the same room. “Sit down. Let’s chat a bit.”

  Chat a bit? Just being around such chaos made his nerves tighten. “Thanks, but I really can’t stay.”

  “Really? You can’t stay for a while? Bummer.” She came out of the bedroom and trapped her lip between her teeth, cocked her head to the side, and used her fingers to untangle the knots from her damp hair. She seemed completely unaware of her actions—and how hot she looked—as she leaned her head to the other side and began freeing the knots there, too.

  Kurt, on the other hand, was all too aware of everything about her. She released her lip, and her tongue swept across it, leaving it slick and alluring.

  The cottage door sw
ung open, and a tall blond woman wearing a colorful summer cover-up over a bathing suit stepped inside. “Holy crap, it’s funky out there tonight.”

  Kurt stepped to the side to give her room.

  The blonde put her hands on her hips and exhaled loudly, raking her eyes down Kurt’s body. “I came to see whose sweet ride was outside.” She shoved her hand toward Kurt. “Bella Abbascia. Nice to meet you. I’m Leanna’s neighbor.”

  He shook her hand. “Kurt Remington.”

  “No way.” Bella looked at Leanna. “No effing way.”

  Leanna’s eyes darted between them. “What?”

  Kurt looked down, readying himself for what he always hoped to avoid. Attention.

  Bella stepped closer, and Kurt leaned back a little.

  “You are him. Holy crap. Leanna Bray, you sneaky little minx. Why didn’t you tell me you knew him? Jeez. I’m a huge fan of yours. You write the scariest crap I’ve ever read.” Bella shook her head, and her thick blond hair swept across her shoulders.

  “Crap?” Kurt could tell by her wide-eyed stare and smile that she enjoyed his work and crap wasn’t meant in a derogatory fashion.

  “You know what I mean.” Bella grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the empty chair. “Sit, please. I would love to talk to you.”

  “Actually, I was just leaving.” He turned toward the door. “I’ve got some writing to do.”

  “Wait. You’re a writer?” Leanna asked.

  “Jesus, Lea. Look at this place.” Bella began gathering dishes. “He’s not just a writer. He’s one of the hottest thriller writers out there.” She ran her eyes over him again. “No pun intended.”

  “Bella.” Leanna swatted her arm. “I was late this morning and didn’t have time to clean up after I made the last batch.” Leanna looked at Kurt. “I’m sorry. I’m so used to this. I never even notice the mess.”

  “No worries. I’ll be going.”

  “Kurt, wait, please.” Bella put her hands on her hips again. “Actually, you know what? I can see why you’d want to bolt. It’s like a typhoon hit in here or something. I’d tell you she’s not usually like this, but our jam girl is always a little like this.”