Taking Chances: Tangled Up Part 23

But Bree thought she'd let Kit start with the other stuff first.

Kit's eyes said it all-she went from pleased to confused to concerned to surprised.

"You were talking about his knee?"

Bree swallowed and grinned. "That's where we're starting?"

"Well, I do think that's pretty big."

Bree felt her heart flip. "You do?" She wanted to think so, too, but she was a novice at this emotional-relationship stuff with guys. At least when it came to emotions other than the basic happy or bored.

She knew there were other emotions, of course, and she knew it was probably a red flag that those two were the only ones she ever really thought about with the men she dated. But she didn't need to go any deeper with guys. Either she had a good time with them and was happy, or she didn't and wasn't. That was as deep as it needed to get.

Until Max.

"I do," Kit said. "He's opening up about something he's been really stoic about until now."

"In all fairness, we didn't talk about it so much as I said there was no way he could climb up into the school ceiling and actually make me come down because of his knee. He basically acknowledged that was true."

Kit looked at her thoughtfully. "So you were willing to stir that up. You weren't sure how he'd react, but you still went there."

Bree shrugged. "It's bugged me for a long time that he hasn't wanted to talk to me about it. For a while I didn't really want to hear about it. But I thought we'd eventually talk it out. Like every time he jumps out of a plane or hikes up a mountain and it bothers him."

"You're both pretty happy with the status quo. Him in Oklahoma, home every once in a while, tons of action while he's here, then gone again."

There was something in her tone that made Bree frown. "So? Status quo is bad?"

Kit shook her head. "Not necessarily. Status quo is easy and comfortable."

Bree nodded. "That's Max for me. Easy and comfortable."

"And that is what's interesting."

Bree narrowed her eyes. "Interesting how?"

"You don't really go for easy and comfortable. You like challenging and new."

"Well, yeah, but . . ." She really didn't know how to finish that. Because Kit was right.

"Even with me. I think that we got close as adults in part because I challenge you. I make you think about things differently."

"I got close to Avery, and she's super easy."

It was true. Avery didn't have a lot of experience with close personal relationships, so she didn't expect or demand much.

"You let Avery get close because you've got a big heart and she needed us. And because I told you to," Kit said. "But Max doesn't exactly need you. He's very well adjusted and has a lot of relationships. But he has always been that steady, easy guy for you," Kit pointed out. "Clearly that works for you. For you both."

"He challenges me," Bree tried to protest. "You think jumping out of planes is easy?"

"I think Max jumps out of planes because you do, not the other way around," Kit said with an eye roll.

It was true. Max was easy. Max did whatever Bree wanted to do.

"You think I'm changing things with Max?"

"Aren't you? You're working with him, not just playing. He is challenging you in that. And you're spending a lot of time with him, more than usual when he's home. And he's been here longer than usual. On top of that, you're pushing him on the knee thing. Oh, and let's not forget the making out and s.e.x."

The s.e.x.

Yeah, there was definitely no forgetting that.

"I'd say you're changing everything," Kit said. She sipped her drink again. "But the question really is, why? Things have worked for so long."

Bree thought about that. "It probably is because he's been here longer this time. I don't like anything for too long." Just like Max said. "Travel, activities, guys . . . ice cream."

"Why do you think that is?"

That was the kind-of-annoying stuff that Kit always did-asked her a question instead of giving her an answer.

Bree sighed. They'd talked about this before, though. "Because I was a replacement child for my parents, and after Brice died, they wanted to embrace life fully and experience everything fully, and so they've always pushed me to do all kinds of amazing, fun, exhilarating things."

Bree's father, Denny, had been over the moon about having a second chance to be a father and had gone overboard in everything. He'd taken Bree everywhere with him, had taught her everything he knew, had bought her every piece of sporting equipment and every age-appropriate motorized machine there was-and even a few that hadn't been age-appropriate. Molly, her mother, had worked past her instinct to be overprotective in therapy. As a part of overcoming her own fear about how suddenly life could change, she had encouraged Bree to be a risk taker and to try everything and do anything she wanted to. The result was a tomboy who'd been fearless as a child, reckless as a teen, and adventurous as an adult.

It was all really good in many ways. Her parents had always encouraged her natural curiosity and her love for high-adrenaline activities. Rather than sinking into a depression after their son's death, they had grabbed ahold of life, for themselves and for their daughter. They were outgoing, active, happy people.

But to Bree, they also seemed restless. As she got older and became more self-aware-in no small part thanks to the woman across the table from her now-Bree realized that her parents seemed to be trying so hard not to sit still or think too hard or deep about things. Maybe that was the only way to keep the sadness at bay. Bree knew it was no coincidence that her parents had been kayaking in Puerto Rico on Brice's birthday last week.

Kit took another dainty sip of her drink. "You have projected those things that worked for you and your dad onto the other most important man in your life. Max. Because Max always liked you and enjoyed being with you when you were doing things like playing ball or messing with snakes and stuff. But just because that's where you started doesn't mean that's all you can ever have."

Bree swallowed hard and leaned in. It was time for the all-out honesty. "Max thinks I'm not wired to fall in love. He thinks that's why I keep getting bored with things-and guys. He thinks that's just who I am."

"Do you agree with that?"

She took a deep breath. "I do change my mind a lot."

"You think so?"

Bree frowned at her. "Don't you? Have you seen me eat the same ice cream for more than two months straight?"

Kit smiled gently. "Bree, you are the most steady thing in my life."

Bree straightened. "What?"

"You are you. You are the most you person I know. You never change. I always know what to expect. You're the same person today that you have always been. You don't let other people influence you. You don't really care what others think. You like to try new things, you've had a few jobs, you don't date anyone long term, and you like lots of kinds of ice cream. But you are you. Always. Funny, smart, loyal, unfiltered, unapologetic, adventurous, interesting."

Bree stared at her for several ticks.

"What?" Kit asked.

Bree's stomach felt like she'd just gone over the top of the roller coaster. She couldn't describe the way Kit had just made her feel. Startled, yes. But also warm. Flattered. Happy.

"You are really good at this," she finally told her friend.

Kit laughed. "This was an easy one."

Loved.

Bree realized that was how she felt. Loved. Accepted. Appreciated.

"I can fall in love. I love lots of flavors of ice cream, but ice cream is still my very favorite of all foods in the world-and always has been. And you can love a lot of different kinds of ice cream and a lot of different people, but it's still love, right? Like you would be lemon sorbet, and Avery is Pistachio Pizzazz, and my dad is"-she laughed lightly-"Rocky Road, probably."

Kit looked intrigued. "Why am I lemon sorbet and Avery is Pistachio Pizzazz?"

"You're sophisticated and a little tart while being sweet underneath," Bree told her with a grin. "Pistachio is green with nuts in it-doesn't look like something you want to really dive into, but when you do, it's amazingly wonderful."

Kit's smile was wide. "Yeah, Max is full of s.h.i.t. You definitely know how to love people."

Bree nodded as a feeling of rightness went through her. "Yeah, he is."

"So, what kind of ice cream is Max?"

Bree sat back in her chair. "Sweet Cream Dream."

"Not Peanut b.u.t.ter Pa.s.sion or Sinful Cinnamon or something like that?" Kit teased.

Bree shook her head. "Sweet Cream Dream. I don't eat it all the time, but it's always the one I know will be awesome if I get it. He's the one that I always go back to. The one I want after indulging in the other ones." He was like Chance to her-home. No matter where she went or what she did, this was where she came back to.

Kit's eyebrow rose, no longer laughing or teasing. "Okay. Well, then, I think you need to tell him that."

"Okay. How? Just like that?"

Kit narrowed her eyes, thinking. "Max thinks your feelings for him come from the adrenaline of whatever is going on around you. You need to show him that you don't need danger and drama to want to kiss him."

"Okay. How?" She wasn't going to let Kit get away with not answering this one, or answering with a question.

"Do stuff with him that's not dangerous or dramatic and see how you feel."

Bree thought about that. That seemed too easy.

"And what if I actually don't want to kiss him then?" she asked, voicing the fear that was nagging at the back of her mind.

"Then you definitely need to not kiss him anymore."

Bree let that really sink in. She couldn't imagine not wanting to kiss Max, but she did owe it to him-to both of them-to prove that it wasn't about adrenaline. At least not falling-out-of-a-ceiling adrenaline. The idea of showing up on his porch with ice cream and leaving her helmet and parachute and tool belt and everything else at home sent an unmistakable thrill through her, though.

"I need to get home," Kit said a few minutes later. "I'm beat."

"But you haven't told me anything about Dillon yet," Bree protested. "You got all my dirt, and I got nothing from you."

Typical. Kit was a magician when it came to getting people to spill their guts, but she only shared her guts when she was good and ready.

"There's nothing to tell." But Kit wasn't meeting Bree's eyes.

"At lunch on Sunday, Avery told us she and Jake got busy in the shed, and you said you kissed Dillon in the storeroom at the hospital. You're saying nothing else has happened?"

"Of course not," Kit said. "I told you, it was a heat-of-the-moment thing. It didn't mean anything."

Bree narrowed her eyes. "You remember I'm a cop, right?"

Kit tipped her head. "And?"

"I'm trained to know when people are lying."

"I'm not."

"You do this thing where you play with your earring when you're lying," Bree said.

Kit gave her a shocked look, and her hand flew to her ear. "I do?"

Bree started laughing. "No. But you just confirmed that you have been lying to me."

Kit pushed her chair back and stood. "Not cool."

Bree couldn't stop grinning. Kit hated when Bree figured her out. "You're holding out on me."

Suddenly Kit's shoulders slumped, and she looked every bit as exhausted as she claimed to be. "It's complicated. And I really am too tired to go over it right now."

Bree stood, too, and pulled Kit into a hug. "Okay," she said soothingly, rubbing her friend's back. "That's fine." Then she said quietly in Kit's ear, "But I'll bet all this prim-and-proper b.u.t.toned-up stuff is driving Dillon crazy, and he's fantasizing about taking you back into that storeroom and ripping your power suit right off you."

Kit pulled back with a frown. But her cheeks were also flushed. "Stop it. Dillon's not fantasizing about me at all."

"Mmm-hmm," Bree said. "Whatever you say. But I'd put good money down on that man being downright dominant in the bedroom."

Kit's face got even redder, and she grabbed her purse and smoothed a hand over her suit jacket.

And now Bree would put money down on Kit wanting Dillon to be dominant in the bedroom. With her.

How interesting.

Bree took a drink, not at all bothered by how fl.u.s.tered her best friend seemed. Truthfully, Bree thought Kit needed to be fl.u.s.tered a little more often. And by a guy who would boss her around a little bit.

Dillon Alexander would be perfect.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," Kit said, stepping around the table.

"You bet. Sweet dreams," Bree said with a grin.

Kit looked around, and when she saw no one was watching, she lifted her middle finger. Then she blew Bree a kiss and left the bar.