By three a.m., Keeva’s fast asleep in my arms and I’m scribbling ideas in my logbook like a madwoman. What if we bake a humongous, gorilla-friendly cake and place it near the mesh as enticement for the females to get closer? Inkesha loves cake, and while there’s a solid chance she’ll fling frosting at Keeva instead of eat it, I’m willing to try anything. Heck, if I could bargain with the girls in English, I’d promise them each a pony if they’d just give her a chance.
As I jot down another desperate idea—slather Keeva in peanut butter?—I hear footsteps in the corridor, and I wonder if I’m finally cracking under the pressure and having auditory hallucinations. Jack, Lottie, and the summer interns left hours ago, and according to the last message Scotty sent over the walkie-talkie, he’s in The Islands checking on the orangutans.
I grab my logbook, prepared to use it as a bludgeon. If someone broke into Ape House to steal this baby gorilla, I will fuck them up.
“Drop the weapon,” a deep voice instructs, and I glance down the dim hallway to see Kai striding toward me, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “I come in peace.” When he reaches the nursery, he gives me a once-over and grins. “Killer outfit, Lucy. Too bad you didn’t run into your ex in that ensemble.”
I glance down at my black faux-fur vest. I look like Big Bird if someone dipped him in mud, but I only roll my eyes. “You wish you could look this good.”
Kai actually looks very good, a fact that Bad Lucy picks up on immediately. A day’s worth of stubble covers his jaw, and his thick mane of hair is mussed like he just rolled out of bed. Maybe Lars forgot to restock his mousse.
“It’s the middle of the night,” I tell him. “Shouldn’t you be resting in your luxury penthouse?”
“We’re in the middle of Ohio. So if by luxury penthouse you mean my moderately appointed room at the Marriott, then no. I just wrapped up shooting Brutus the grizzly’s emergency surgery. And before you freak out, yes, he’s stable now. Besides,” he adds, tugging at the drawstring of his hoodie, “I wanted to see you.”
Bad Lucy, still running amok outside her cage, raises her middle fingers at me in a Suck it! gesture, and my breath catches in my throat. Kai wanted to see me at three o’clock in the morning? I guess our weird animal-fact-trading game got him all hot and bothered.
What a little freak, in the best sense of the word.
“You precious little munchkin, you,” he continues in a singsong voice, and I realize he’s talking to Keeva.
Of course he is. Of course Kai didn’t come to Ape House after hours to see me in a vest that makes me look like I’m headed to a furry convention.
“Aw, don’t be disappointed, Lucy-goosey,” he teases as he pauses outside the nursery to slip on the Latex gloves, plastic booties, and surgical mask necessary to protect Keeva from germs. “I’m happy to see you, too.”
“Call me Lucy-goosey again and see what happens,” I threaten. “I promise you won’t like it.”
He smirks at me as he enters the nursery. “Or maybe I will.”
I’m grateful for the dim nighttime lighting that hides the blush creeping over my cheeks, and I pretend I didn’t hear him.
“Seriously, you can see Keeva anytime. Why so late?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Is a SWAT team camped outside the Marriott? I knew I was onto something with the crime ring theory.”
Kai settles into the hay across from Keeva and me. “May I?” he asks.
I nod and transfer the infant to his arms, careful not to jostle her awake. She’s only nine pounds, but the long hours of carrying her have exhausted my biceps, and I’m grateful for a break.
“Hi, precious,” Kai says, smiling as she nestles her head into his chest. “Hi, baby girl.”
I don’t lose my marbles over every cute thing I see like Elle and Lottie, but I have to admit that the sight of a handsome man cuddling a baby gorilla is almost more than I can handle. It’s like Kai’s shirtless Penny-the-puppy post on steroids, and before Bad Lucy gets up to no good, I scramble up from the hay to check on Keeva’s formula supply.
“If you must know, the gravest crime I’ve ever committed was forgetting to return a Scary Movie DVD to Blockbuster. I know this disappoints you, but there’s no SWAT team coming to whisk me away,” Kai says. “I’m just not much of a sleeper. I’m lucky if I get five hours a night.”
I have no idea how someone who barely sleeps manages to look that good, and I can only conclude that he sold his soul to the devil.
“That sucks,” I say. “I’d be a total bitch if I slept that little.”
He gives me a long look, as if to say, In contrast to the total sweetheart you are now? and shrugs. “I’m used to it, I guess. Been dealing with it my whole life.”
“Seriously?” I ask, running a bottle under hot water. “Your whole life?”
Maybe that’s why he acted like a jerk the first few times we met. Maybe Elle was right, and a combination of jet lag and decades of sleep deprivation caused his grouchiness.
“Well, since I was a kid,” he says, cradling Keeva’s head. “Since Taji, actually. And sometimes no sleep is better than the nightmares.”
“I’m sorry. That must be awful.”
He nods and clears his throat. “They’ve gotten better over time. Pretty embarrassing, really, that I’m a thirty-four-year-old man who still has bad dreams about something that happened when I was eight.”
The thought of Kai, who wouldn’t think twice about submerging himself in alligator-infested waters for a good shot, waking up from a nightmare in a cold sweat tugs at my heartstrings. Imagining him being frightened is like picturing Elle in a bout of road rage. It’s almost impossible.
“That’s not embarrassing,” I assure him. “Plenty of adults have nightmares.”
“See?” he says, grinning. “I knew I could tell my Lucy-goosey anything.”
“I swear to Jane Goodall, I will feed you feetfirst to Roary the lion.”
Before Kai can laugh at my threat, my phone, which I left sitting on my logbook in the hay, vibrates quietly.
“Lucy Rourke,” he says, shaking his head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Booty call on a Wednesday?”
I roll my eyes. The last time I answered a booty call was in grad school, and it was from a dental student named Tad, who was decent in bed but insisted on flossing for twenty minutes before anything exciting happened. If I’m getting a text this late, it’s either Phil checking up on Keeva or an Amber Alert.
“Oh, it’s just an email,” Kai says, glancing at my phone with no regard for boundaries. “Looks like somebody’s having a birthday party.”
“Huh?” I set the bottle down and scoop my phone up from the hay, giving Kai and his prying eyes a dirty look.
MIA’S TURNING 11! the email preview shows, and against my better judgment, I unlock my phone and open the message. It’s an invitation from Karina to Mia’s upcoming birthday party: Our Junior Scout is turning 11! Please join us August 11 for an afternoon campout to celebrate. Tents optional, s’mores mandatory.
I want to fling my phone across the nursery. How is it that I spent my eleventh birthday crying over my cake, hoping against hope that Karina would show up at Nona’s, and Mia gets the camping-themed bash of her dreams? Worse, Karina hates camping, which makes the fact that she’s not forcing Mia to host a Kardashian-themed party even more painful. She’s putting aside her own preferences to make her daughter happy.
Because she loves her.
“Bad news?” Kai asks, studying my face.
I slide my phone into my pocket, trying to keep my expression neutral. “Nope, everything’s fine.”
“Sure it is. And I’m David Attenborough.”
I return to the sink, determined to finish washing Keeva’s bottles, but hot tears prick my eyes. It’s not that I want Mia to spend her eleventh birthday like I did, crying so hard that she can barely inhale enough air to blow out her candles. I don’t want her staring at the door, praying for Karina to walk through it, or for her to be too distraught to open the presents Nona wrapped.
But I don’t want it for eleven-year-old me, either. And it’s easier to forget how badly my mom’s absence hurt when I’m not forced to look at a Paperless Post invitation to the exact opposite scenario. I would have chopped off my right pigtail to get Karina to visit on my birthday, let alone throw me a party with s’mores and hot dogs.
“Lucy,” Kai says, and I’ve been so focused on holding back my tears that I didn’t hear him join me at the sink. He cradles Keeva in one arm and places a hand on my back.
“Whoa,” he says after a beat, his fingers caressing the vest. “I didn’t expect you to be so hairy.”
It’s the dumbest joke I’ve ever heard, but in a moment when I’m fighting to keep my shit together, I’m grateful for it.
“Here,” Kai says, passing a sleeping Keeva back to me. “The baby gorilla makes all the pain go away. Promise.”
I wonder if that’s why he came here tonight, because tending to Keeva helps push away the nightmares of Taji’s horrific fate. But instead of asking, I let him place the infant in my arms. He’s right; within seconds of hearing her soft snores, I’m a fraction calmer.
“So,” Kai says when we settle along the mesh, sitting in the hay again. “Do you want to tell me why you look like you just got invited to Cruella de Vil’s birthday party?”
I blink away any lingering tears, keeping my gaze on Keeva. “Not particularly.”
He nudges my bootied foot with his. “C’mon. I know you think I’m a raging asshole, but I swear I’m a good listener.”
I shake my head. I don’t think he’s a raging asshole, not after he saved me from the Nick-and-Margo carpool of hell. And especially not after he confessed to having nightmares about Taji.
“I don’t think you’re a raging asshole. I just think maybe, on occasion, you suffer from asshole tendencies. Besides, why do you care about my opinion? I could think you were the next Charles Manson and it wouldn’t matter. You’d still have a three-year deal with Animal Planet and look like a Bridgerton brother.”
He grins. “That’s a compliment, right?”
“No, Kai. Charles Manson was a monster.”
He rolls his eyes. “Come on. I told you about my nightmares. Do you, like, hate parties? Did you have a run-in with a clown when you were a child and now refuse to participate in anything birthday related?”
That does sound like something that might happen to me, but I shake my head. “No. The email was just an invitation to my half sister Mia’s eleventh birthday. You know, your number one fan.”
“I have an infinite number of number one fans,” Kai teases. “But of course I remember Mia. She seems like a great kid.”
“She is a great kid.”
“Then why do you look like you’re stepping on hot coals when you say that?” he asks.
I sigh. “Look, Mia’s great. She really is. She’s smart and curious, and she refuses to give up on learning the harmonica even though she sounds like a dying cat. It’s our mother I don’t get along with.”
“Ah, yes,” Kai says. “The great Kitty Conway.”
“You mean Karina. And Kitty wasn’t that great. She missed all the clues that Tommy Tomko was the Surfboard Strangler, even when they were glaringly obvious. Who has that many broken surfboards in his garage?”
“Hang on a second.” Kai leans closer, and I do my best not to inhale his heady scent. “I thought you said you didn’t watch Guilty Pleasures.”
Busted, I watch the rise and fall of Keeva’s chest to avoid his gaze. “Whatever. I still don’t know who the Malibu Fish Hook Killer was.”
“Dammit,” Kai says. He crosses his arms over his chest and fixes me with a knowing smirk. “Well, well. Isn’t Lucy-goosey just a little liar?”
“Maybe I lied, but you stole my book,” I counter. “Stealing’s a crime.”
“I didn’t steal. I only took it because you were looking at me like you were about to clobber me over the head with it.”
He has a point, because I did consider clobbering him over the head with Majesty on the Mountain. “Well, I only lied about watching Guilty Pleasures because I didn’t want you pestering me about it.”
Kai brings a hand to his chest like I’ve wounded him. “Ouch, Lucy. How annoying do you think I am?” After I stare at him for a beat, he blanches. “Never mind. Point taken.”
“When I was a kid,” I continue, “watching the show was the only way I could see my mom.” I have no idea why I’m admitting my crippling mommy issues to Kai, other than he’s now the only person in the world who knows that I watched Guilty Pleasures. And even if I confessed that to him by accident, it felt good. Freeing. It’s a lot easier to share personal things with someone once you’ve watched him drive a minivan.
“She dumped me at my grandmother’s when I was ten,” I tell him. “She told me she’d be back in a week to get me, but she never came. She changed her mind. She called Nona, my grandmother, and explained that it was too much for her to care for me and star in the show at the same time.”
It’s probably a mistake to reveal something so private, but after this summer, I’ll never see Kai again—and if I can’t pair Keeva with a surrogate mother and have to shuttle her off to the Pittsburgh Zoo soon, he won’t have new material to shoot at Ape House anyway.
“That’s awful,” Kai says. “I’m sorry.” His tone is earnest, stripped of its usual cockiness.
“Thanks. Anyway, I somehow convinced myself that she’d show up for my eleventh birthday. I mean, moms get busy, but they don’t miss their kid’s birthday, right? But she didn’t come.” I remember insisting to Nona that we make a carrot cake for my birthday because it was Karina’s favorite. I didn’t even like carrot cake; I still don’t.
“So yeah, I’m jealous of Mia,” I admit. “I’m jealous that she gets the party I dreamed of.” I’ve never admitted my envy to anyone before, and the words sound petty and small coming out of my mouth. “It’s pathetic, I know, to be jealous of a little girl.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s not pathetic at all.” Kai shifts his leg so that it’s touching mine. “I mean, if my mum had another kid after me and did everything right with him, I’d be jealous, too.”
I don’t think Kai, whose mother made the ultimate sacrifice to protect him, can understand how I feel, but I appreciate his empathy.
“It’s funny you say that,” I tell him, “because when I was little, I was jealous of you. After Karina ditched me and my grandmother brought me to the zoo to meet Zuri, I pretty much became obsessed with all things gorilla. And you had everything I dreamed of.” I remember my childhood fantasy of traipsing through the jungle with Dr. Kimber. “You had your very own mountain full of gorillas. And you had a mother who would do anything to take care of you.”
The concern on Kai’s face vanishes, and his jaw tenses. “You shouldn’t have been.”
“Huh?”
“You shouldn’t have been jealous. Things weren’t—” He pauses, his mouth puckering like it did when Mia and I saw him on the phone outside the nursery. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “I know I had major advantages because of who my mum is, but being Charlotte Kimber’s kid wasn’t all happy gorillas and movie premieres. I mean, I could live to be a hundred, and people will still see me as the stupid little boy who got Taji killed.”
His admission catches me off guard, and I realize that Kai and I have more in common than I thought. I might be gunning for my dream job, but I still see myself as the hopeful little girl refusing to cut into her carrot cake. Kai might be the most charismatic wildlife explorer since Steve Irwin, but he still views himself as the sobbing eight-year-old stuck in a snare.
“What happened to Taji was not your fault,” I say gently. “You tripped on a poacher’s snare by accident, and your mom had no choice but to turn back for you. It’s what anyone would have done.”
When Kai inhales sharply and a faraway look comes over his eyes, I wonder if he’s still here in the nursery with me—or if he’s trapped in the thick leaves of the jungle, begging for his mother’s help.
“Hey, I mean it,” I say. He looks so forlorn that I automatically reach for his hand. “It wasn’t your fault.”
At first, his hand stays limp, and I think I might have overstepped. But then he curls his fingers around mine, and the pressure is firm and steady against my skin.
“The thing is, Lucy,” he says, gripping my hand tighter, “gorillas are an endangered species. Humans are a dime a dozen. Maybe she made the wrong choice.”
His face is wracked with guilt, and I wonder how much time Kai’s spent on Mount Karisimbi since he was a child, how many times he’s visited that lush green forest while he tries to fall asleep at night, remembering and imagining and blaming himself for something completely out of his control. Before I know what I’m doing, I tear my hand out of his grip and place it on his cheek, as if I can touch the guilt away.
“You are not a dime a dozen,” I tell him. “You are anything but.”
I didn’t realize it at first, but he’s not the arrogant jerkface I thought he was. He’s a man who rescues puppies and snuggles baby capybaras and helped me keep my job, all while bearing the crushing weight of decades of self-blame. And right now, his eyes flickering with emotion, he’s more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him.
“Lucy,” he says, his stubble rough against my hand, “what I said about you, that it doesn’t matter what some keeper in Ohio thinks of me . . .” He traces a line over my thumb and covers my hand with his own. “I was an idiot. You’re not just some keeper. You’re anything but.”
His admission lingers in the air between us, and I want to respond with one of my own—I was an idiot, too; let’s start over and give each other a second chance—but just thinking it makes me feel exposed, naked, and I lose my nerve before I can get the words out.
“Slugs have four noses,” I whisper, because I’m Lucy Rourke, and of course I do.
Kai laughs against my palm. “Some butterflies drink blood.”
“Eagles can strike harder than rifle shots.”
Kai reaches forward to cup my face with both hands, and his closeness causes my heart to pound so loud that I’ll never be able to hear whatever animal fact he spouts off next.
“Hey, Lucy,” he says. “Hold still, okay?”
He strokes my cheek with his thumb, and I fight off a shiver. The gentleness of the gesture feels more intimate than anything Nick and I did in the entire two years we dated, and I can’t resist leaning into Kai’s touch.
I should pull away, should remind myself that letting someone get close only leads to heartbreak, but I don’t. Because when Kai’s rough palm cups my face, the burdens I carry—my desperation to help Keeva, my jealousy over Mia’s party, the sheer panic that overwhelms me when the cameras roll—suddenly don’t feel so unbearably heavy. And even though I should grab my logbook and sprint to my office before I blur the lines between work and romance, between the Kai I met on day one and the Kai who’s gazing at me now, his eyes ablaze with something between awe and desire, I won’t. Because Kai Bridges, protector of pilot whales and my former enemy, is going to kiss me.
And I’m going to kiss him back.
“Okay,” I whisper, breathless. Trembling, I close my eyes and wait for the welcome pressure of his lips on mine.
But it doesn’t come. Instead, Kai’s thumb brushes across my hairline, and he lets out a satisfied noise. “Ah. Got it.”
Confused, I open my eyes to find him holding a piece of straw between his thumb and index finger.
“You had hay in your hair,” he explains. “I didn’t want it to fall into your eyes.”
He might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water over my head, and the heavy yearning that overwhelmed me quickly morphs into sheer humiliation. I can’t believe I misinterpreted his friendly gesture as a sexy overture; worse, I can’t believe I welcomed it. I’m supposed to be saving Keeva, not entertaining imagined advances that were nothing of the sort.
“Thanks,” I say quickly, brushing my cheek with my fingertips as if I can erase all evidence of Kai’s touch.
“Of course. And thanks for listening to me complain about the nightmares. It’s not something I share with many people.”
I nod, thankful for the darkness hiding my blazing-hot cheeks. Why did I think the fact that he opened up about his trauma meant he wanted to jump my bones? How did I let his endless supply of weird animal facts and killer forearms knock me off my game? Dear God, did he see me close my eyes in anticipation as he leaned into me?
“You okay?” Kai asks, studying me with a look that the Lucy of forty seconds ago would have mistakenly regarded as amorous.
“Yep,” I insist, reminding myself that he was only looking out for my corneas. Kai was never going to kiss me, and certainly not while I was wearing a vest made of hair. “Just hungry. Living off microwaved dinners is starting to catch up to me.”
Kai blinks as if he doesn’t quite believe me, and I force myself to stare at Keeva instead of into his searching gaze.
“Lucy,” he says, “I—”
I cringe as I imagine what he’s about to say—Lucy, don’t worry, women embarrass themselves like this around me all the time—but his phone rings at full blast to interrupt him. The noise startles all three of us, and Keeva jolts awake in my lap and lets out a screech of terror, flinging herself against my chest.
“Dammit,” Kai grumbles, rummaging through his duffel as I make soothing vocalizations to Keeva. His phone must be buried under a mountain of exclusive Wild Side baseball caps, because he still hasn’t found it when it finally stops ringing. But after a beat of silence, the ringing starts again, and Keeva lets out another cry and punches my arm with a tiny fist.
“Um, I know this isn’t helpful now,” I say as Kai flings a hat, three pairs of socks, and a toiletry kit out of the duffel, digging around for the noisy culprit. “But have you heard of vibrate mode?”
He mutters under his breath but manages to find his phone just as the caller strikes for the third time. “Aha!” he cries, pulling it out of his bag.
He silences it, but not soon enough for poor, disoriented Keeva, who grabs my ponytail and yanks like her life depends on it. Tears spring to my eyes, and there’s nothing I want more than to throw Kai’s phone into the penny fountain outside Adventure Cove.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
I motion for him to grab Keeva a bottle, but he ignores my request and points behind me. “Lucy,” he whispers. “Look.”
“What?” I hiss, the nape of my neck aching from Keeva’s tug. But when I turn around, I forget that she almost yanked my head off. Because there, sitting at the barrier between the nursery and the bedroom, is Zuri.
“Oh my God,” I say, trying not to freak out. It’s been days since any of the girls got half this close to Keeva, let alone came all the way up to the mesh, and hope blossoms in my chest.
“Your phone,” I whisper to Kai. “Give me your phone.”
“What?” he asks. “Why?”
“Zuri,” I explain. “She loves phones. It must have been the ringing that enticed her to come over.”
“And?” Kai prods.
“And if we let Keeva hold the phone, Zuri will want it. It might be enough to get her interested in Keeva.”
“This is a brand-new iPhone,” Kai says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not giving it to a baby gorilla.”
“Fine,” I grumble. I wrestle my own from my pocket and set Keeva on the ground with my phone beside her. She might pick it up and fling it across the nursery like the little wrecking ball she is, but that’s a small price to pay if it helps foster a connection.
I step away from the mesh, watching as Zuri glances at the phone with wide eyes. She reaches for it, pressing her fingers through the mesh, but it’s just out of her grasp. She draws her hand back and then tries again, but this time little Keeva, her eyes wide and a piece of hay sticking out of her mouth, reaches out to brush Zuri’s fingers with her own.
It’s a cautious, hesitant gesture, but Zuri doesn’t pull her hand away. She lets Keeva press her tiny fingers to her enormous ones, and when the infant lets out a hoot bark of excitement, Zuri makes a belch vocalization back to her. I hold my breath as Keeva crawls closer to the mesh, and Zuri tilts her head as if to say, Who are you, little girl? And why are you wearing a diaper?
“Oh my God,” I cry, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest. “Oh my God, Kai, it’s working!”
“It’s working,” he repeats, his mouth dropping open in awe as he watches the interaction.
Tears of relief and hope spring to my eyes, and I bounce up and down on my toes and grab a fistful of Kai’s T-shirt in excitement. “We’re doing it!” I cheer.
He nods and lets out a whoop of triumph, looping an arm around me and joining in on my impromptu victory dance. “Hell yeah. You’re doing it.”
Kai’s face is so close to mine that his words are warm against my ear, and the realization snaps me back to my senses. I unclench my grip on his shirt and pull away, determined to keep my hands to myself.
“The camera,” I say quickly, trying to cover up the awkward shift in mood. “This could be a major breakthrough.”
Nodding, Kai grabs his camera and sets it up with smooth efficiency. I back out of the shot as the two gorillas continue to make vocalizations to each other, Keeva still clutching Zuri’s index finger like it’s my ponytail.
“This is amazing footage,” Kai says as Keeva attempts to stuff Zuri’s finger into her mouth. “Here. Come look.”
He waves me toward him and moves aside to give me access to the camera. I peer into the lens, watching the baby gorilla marvel at her larger counterpart. We just might be witnessing the start of a powerful bond, and even though I’m still embarrassed about misreading Kai’s intentions, I can’t help but grin.
“You’re right, it is. Might just win you that fourth Emmy.”
Kai laughs, and despite my best efforts, the sound of it sends a spark of electricity through me.
“I should grab my logbook,” I say, determined to fill my head with sober thoughts. “Phil will want good notes on this.”
I move to hurry past Kai, but I’m flustered from my excitement over Zuri’s progress and the heady scent of his aftershave, and my hip bumps the tripod.
“Dammit!” I cry, grabbing for the camera before it crash-lands in the hay. Kai reaches for it at the same time, and our hands meet as we scramble to keep it steady.
“Oops,” I whisper. “Close one.”
Kai breathes a sigh of relief and fixes me with a smirk. “What am I gonna do with you, Lucy Rourke?”
Well, you could have kissed me, the saucy, carefree version of me wants to tell him, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was flirting. But I do know better now, and I tell myself that it’s only walkie-talkie static, not sexual tension, that’s causing the air to crackle.
“Logbook,” I say, glancing around for my satchel and refusing to meet Kai’s gaze. “Where’s my logbook?” I will myself to peel my hands away from the camera, where Kai’s fingers still brush against mine, but I’m frozen by lust and the alarming realization that I don’t want to stop touching him. In fact, I want him to touch me more.
“Lucy,” Kai says, the lines of his face softening as if he can read my thoughts.
I scramble to think of more animal facts or zoo gossip to prattle on about, anything that will snap me back into reality and knock me out of this trance.
“Seriously,” I continue, forcing myself to look every which way but at Kai, searching the nursery for my notes. “Where the hell’s my logbook?”
“Lucy,” he says, his tone so entreating, so wanting, that I abandon my search. “Can you forget about your damn logbook for a second?” Kai draws his hands away to run them through his hair, and the loss of his touch feels foreign. Wrong.
“I didn’t mean to say damn,” he says quickly. “I know your logbook is very important to you, and I would never disrespect that. I only meant . . .” He trails off, swallowing hard, and fidgets with the collar of his T-shirt. It’s a far cry from the confident, unruffled guy he plays on TV, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was nervous.
“That day I followed you inside after camera training,” he says, stepping closer to me. “I said I only did that to get my mic back. I lied.”
A shiver runs down my spine as he draws nearer, and the taut angle of his jawline makes me want to rip off my fur vest and propose a literal roll in the hay.
“I didn’t give a damn about the mic,” Kai says plainly, and even though I try to talk myself out of reading anything into his actions, his lingering gaze on my mouth makes it really freaking difficult.
“Um, okay.” Logbook-logbook-logbook, I shout silently at myself, but my hormones pay my brain no attention.
Kai sighs as if I’m not understanding. “What I mean is, I followed you because I wanted to check on you. I’m always checking on you, Lucy.”
The sincerity in his tone warms my blood, and I think of how he took my hand in the Huli Huli parking lot and helped me save face in front of Nick. I think of the private, assuring glances he sneaks my way when his crew films at Ape House, his subtle way of boosting my confidence and keeping me calm. I think of how he showed up here tonight, after hours of shooting and days of travel, to check on Keeva. To check on me.
“Why?” I ask, remembering the solid pressure of his hand on my cheek.
“Because I was completely wrong about you. You’re anything but incompetent, and you’re clearly not afraid of a challenge. You call me on my bullshit, which hardly anybody does anymore, and you went to bat for me with that bartender. Plus, you look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I ask, brushing my hair out of my face.
“Like that,” Kai says, his gaze meeting mine. He steps closer, mere inches from me now, and if he keeps talking in that full, throaty tone, I’m going to have a hell of a time keeping my wits about me.
“I’m confused,” I admit, not sure what game he’s playing. I won’t make the same mistake twice, and I push away the possibility that I’m not alone in my desire. “Why didn’t . . . ?” Why didn’t you kiss me? I want to ask, but the words tangle in my throat. “I thought . . .” I tear my gaze away from Kai’s, embarrassed, and glance at the spot where I thought he was making a move on me in the hay.
Kai follows my gaze with his own before looking back at me. “You thought I wanted to kiss you.”
I could deny it, but I’m not a convincing liar, and besides, if we can be open with each other about his nightmares and my abandonment issues, maybe I can be open about this, too.
“Yes,” I tell him, and it takes more courage for me to say that than to look into a thousand cameras. “I did.”
“I wanted to.” Kai’s voice is quieter than usual, as if this takes courage for him, too. “But I wasn’t sure if you did.”
He tilts his head, studying me, and the shift in his posture is a question. An invitation.
“Did you want me to kiss you, Lucy?” he asks, his tone low. Guttural. “Do you want me to kiss you now?”
My fingers tremble, and I tuck them into my palms. If I say no, I’ll be playing it safe and staying focused on the one thing that’s supposed to matter to me: work. I’ll be protecting myself from the risk of being vulnerable, of being hurt, of the messy ramifications that come from mixing business with pleasure.
But I’ll also be denying what every cell in my body screams for.
“Yes,” I say, choosing to dive headfirst into uncharted waters. “I do.”
My heart thuds in my chest as Kai lowers his face toward mine, but he doesn’t kiss me yet. Instead, he cups my face in his palms and caresses my cheek with his thumb. It’s a lingering, delicious moment, and despite the warnings flashing in my head, I’m eager for what comes next.
So this time, I don’t wait for him to make a move. I place a hand over his, savoring the feel of him, and lean forward to press my lips to his.
Because like I told him all those days ago, I’m not afraid of a challenge.