A Forever Kind of Love (Kimani Romance) (2 page)

“Granddad deserved it,” Mya said. “He’s probably walking around heaven with his chest sticking out, bragging about all the people who showed up for his funeral.”

“People around here loved Big Harold.”

Mya simply nodded. If she tried to speak, the tears would start flowing again.

Too late.

She swiped at the moisture that had collected in the corner of her eye. “Don’t even try it,” she said when she saw Corey’s hand reach for her. “Just because we’re talking, it doesn’t mean you can touch me. Keep those paws right where they are.”

He held his hands up, then placed them on his thighs. Mya studied the fingers fanned out across his black slacks. The nails were clean, cut nice and short. He’d always taken extra care in making sure he didn’t bear the telltale signs of an auto mechanic like his dad.

All those years ago, when they would lay wrapped in each other’s arms talking about their futures, Corey used to tell her that he refused to get trapped in the family tradition of fixing cars for a living. It’s what his twin brothers had done in between their many run-ins with the law.

After an incident that nearly landed him in jail, Corey had turned his life around in their senior year of high school. He did everything he could to show the people in Gauthier that he was not going to follow in Shawn and Stefan’s footsteps. Yet the people around here had lumped him in with his brothers anyway.

“Thanks for coming back here for Granddad’s funeral,” Mya felt the need to say. Facing the judgmental tongues of Gauthier could not have been easy for him.

He stared at her for a long, drawn-out moment before finally answering with a simple, “You’re welcome.”

She zoomed in on the curve of his jaw. His skin was still smooth, that beautiful, roasted pecan color. It was marred by a thin strip of pink that stretched from his ear almost to his neck.

“What happened here?” Mya asked, trailing her finger along the slightly puckered skin. Touching him was a mistake. Her finger burned hot.

He turned to her, those light, grayish-brown eyes taking on that smoldering look that was the precursor to her panties sliding off back in high school.

“Car accident,” Corey answered. “About three years ago.”

His voice had lowered. It had the same effect as his gaze. Both caused her heart to beat faster within the walls of her chest.

No way. She was not going there again with Corey Anderson.

Mya tore her eyes away and sat up straight. “I need to get inside.”

“I’ll come with you,” Corey said, pushing himself up from the swing.

“No.” She put a hand on his shoulder, then jerked it back.
Stop touching him!
“I don’t need you to follow me.”

“Peach—Mya,” he corrected. “I’m trying to be a nice guy. It’s been fifteen years. All that stuff should be behind us.”

That’s what scared her. It
should
be behind her. But one look at those sexy eyes and that just-right-for-her mouth and she was that stupid teenage girl who used to escape out the window of this very house to be with him.

“It is behind us,” Mya lied. “I’m just tired. It’s been a rough day. I’m going to go inside, kiss a few cheeks, say a few goodbyes and head to one of the back rooms for a nap.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. With a slight smile, she said, “It was good seeing you, Corey.” And she meant it. It
was
good to see him. Despite the agony Corey Anderson had unwittingly put her through, a part of her heart would always belong to him.

And if that wasn’t reason enough to get her butt back to New York, Mya didn’t know what was.

“Thanks again for coming to the funeral,” she said.

Against her better judgment, Mya leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. Then she quickly headed into the house, escaping temptation.

* * *

Corey watched Mya slip back into her grandparents’ house and had to force himself not to follow her. His skin tingled where her lips had touched, warming his body from the inside out.

How could she still have this effect on him?

His heart had started beating triple time when she’d walked through the doors of New Hope Baptist Church that morning. The small sanctuary seemed to have shrunk around him. Throughout the entire service, the only thing Corey could focus on was the woman who’d been a girl the last time he’d laid eyes on her.

There had been speculation over whether or not Mya would return to Gauthier for her grandfather’s funeral. Corey could not deny the bone-deep relief he’d felt the minute he set eyes on her in the church. He’d smiled at her—a smile she had not returned—and Corey figured that maybe fifteen years had not been enough time for Mya to get over what had happened the night of their high school graduation.

Not that he could blame her.

Regret lanced his chest as the image of her pained face jumped to the forefront of his mind. He would never forget the moment he’d looked up and found her staring at him through the window of his dad’s truck, where he’d sat half-naked with another girl’s legs wrapped around his waist. It was in that moment—when he knew he’d lost her—that Corey had realized just how lucky he had been to have her in the first place.

He had been a selfish, inconsiderate fool who deserved every dirty look Mya threw his way, even fifteen years later.

Corey had considered keeping his distance after the funeral. With half the town in attendance, it would have been easy to convince himself that there wasn’t an opportunity for any one-on-one time with her. But when had he ever chosen to take the easy path where Mya was concerned?

After that kiss, as innocent as it had been, Corey was happy he’d decided to seek her out. He rubbed his cheek, still experiencing the lingering effects of her soft lips on his skin. Despite how things had ended between them all those years ago, Mya Dubois could still affect him like no other woman could.

Chapter 2

A
thick slice of sun slashed across the bed, warming her face and forcing one eye to open.

“Curtains, Gram. Curtains that close would be a nice touch,” Mya murmured into the pillow. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Someone had tried to paint over the brown water stain left from when the air-conditioning ducts had backed up, but Mya could still make out the faint edges. The stain had always reminded her of a bunny rabbit playing in the grass.

Mya reached for her eyeglasses from the nightstand. After sliding her feet into a pair of flip-flops, she didn’t bother to throw a robe on over her boy shorts and tank top. Now that Granddad was gone, there were only women in the house.

The aroma of sweet chicory coffee greeted her as she stepped into the hallway, along with the voices of her grandmother, Aunt Mo and her mother. Of course, Elizabeth was the loudest. Mya rushed through her morning bathroom routine and then headed straight for the liquid caffeine.

“Good morning,” she said as she entered the kitchen.

Aunt Mo was at the stove, stirring a pot of what looked like grits. Grandma and Elizabeth sat at the table. Her mother was dressed to the nines. Mya spotted a Christian Dior suitcase and a round hatbox just to the right of the door, and she nearly whooped with glee. She was more than ready to see Elizabeth board a plane back to San Francisco or Seattle or wherever it was she was living these days. Mya had stopped keeping track.

“You want breakfast?” Aunt Mo asked.

“No, thanks. The coffee’s enough for me.”

“You need more than just coffee,” her grandmother chastised.

“It’s better if she skips breakfast,” Elizabeth chimed in. “You don’t want to get fat. Right, baby?”

Deep breaths,
Mya told herself.
In through the nose, out through the mouth
.

She grabbed a mug from the wooden mug tree and filled the cup almost to the brim. “Any sweetener?” she asked her aunt.

“I ran out of artificial sweetener last week,” Grandma said.

“Have you been eating sugar again?” Aunt Mo asked.

“Don’t start with me, Maureen.”

Her aunt plunked her free hand on her hip as the other continued to stir the grits. “That woman is too hardheaded for me.”

Mya winked at her grandmother as she walked past the table on her way to the smaller porch just off the kitchen. The morning was too pretty to take her coffee anywhere but outside. She sat on the wooden porch step and sipped her coffee, closing her eyes in pure ecstasy as the hot liquid slid down her throat.

“Thank God for coffee.” She sighed.

A motorized roar jolted Mya out of her relaxed, caffeine-induced bliss. She looked up to find Corey dressed in knee-length deck shorts—the kind with a dozen zippered pockets all over them—and a green T-shirt. He was pushing a lawn mower across the side lawn. He lifted his hand in a short wave, turned a tight corner with the lawn mower and headed back up toward the front yard.

“What the hell?” Mya muttered. She placed her coffee cup on the step and stomped across the yard.

“Corey!” she yelled.

He ignored her.

No, he hadn’t ignored her. Mya spotted the thin, white wires coming from his ears. She caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. The lawn mower sputtered to a stop as Corey let go of the handle. He turned, pulling the tiny speakers from his ears.

“Good morning,” he said.

“What are you doing here?”

“That question rhetorical?” he asked, motioning to the lawn mower. “What are
you
doing here? I thought you’d be on a plane by now.”

“I fly out this afternoon,” Mya answered. “Now answer my question. What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “It’s Saturday. I always cut your grandmother’s grass every other Saturday.”

Wait.
What?

He folded his arms over his green Gauthier High School Fighting Lions T-shirt and things started to click into place.

“You live here?” she asked. “In Gauthier?”

He nodded, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. Those eyes drifted a few degrees south and his smile widened. That’s when Mya remembered she was standing in the middle of the yard in boy shorts, a thin tank top and no bra. She crossed her arms over her breasts.

“When did you move back to Gauthier?” she asked.

Another shrug. “Last year.”

“Why?” She couldn’t keep the incredulousness from her voice. He’d retired from professional baseball a few years ago, but Mya knew Corey was still worth millions. Why would he choose to live in a small town like Gauthier when he could live anywhere he wanted to?

“It’s home,” he answered.

Before she could respond, a screech from inside the house stopped her.

“Mya!”

The panic in Aunt Mo’s scream caused instant fear to race down Mya’s spine. Corey had already taken off in a dead run for the house. She shook off her shock and followed, losing a flip-flop along the way.

Mya’s stomach bottomed out at the sight in the kitchen.

Her grandmother was slumped over in the chair, her mouth hanging open. Aunt Maureen had hooked her arms under Grandma’s, trying to lift her up. Corey was crouched on the floor in front of her, tapping on her cheek. Elizabeth was off to the side, wringing her hands and screaming uncontrollably.

“Would you shut up!” Mya yelled at her mother. She held her grandmother’s wrist to check for a pulse, enjoying a moment’s relief after finding one.

“She has these fainting spells, but never like this,” Aunt Mo said.

Mya leaned in. “Grandma, can you hear me?” The sickly sweet smell hovering in front of her grandmother’s face was all the answer Mya needed. “I don’t think this is a fainting spell. Mama, call 911.”

“What? Why?” Elizabeth cried.

Mya ran over to where her mother stood and pushed her aside so she could get to the phone mounted on the wall.

“I have a seventy-two-year-old female with diabetes,” she told the 911 operator. “She passed out and isn’t responding and her breath has a fruity smell.”

Mya rattled off the address. She hung up and ran back to the table, prying her Aunt Maureen from her grandmother. “Aunt Mo, get all of her medications. We’ll need to bring them to the hospital.” Mya took her place, slipping her arms underneath her grandmother’s armpits and holding her upright. She looked down at Corey who was still trying to get her to wake up.

He looked up at her and shook his head. Mya’s chest tightened.

“She’ll need her insulin,” Corey said. “Miss Elizabeth, look in the fridge. She keeps the insulin in a Tupperware container.”

How does he know that?
The whirl of the ambulance sirens stopped Mya from voicing the question out loud.

Moments later, two uniformed EMS workers entered the kitchen carrying a gurney. Mya stood to the side, fear gripping her chest as they checked her grandmother’s vitals, then strapped her to the gurney. She felt warm, gritty arms surround her as Corey came up behind her, encircling her in his arms.

Mya could hardly comprehend the scene unfolding before her eyes. This could not be happening. She’d just buried her granddad yesterday. She was
not
staring at her grandmother on a hospital gurney.

But she was. This was real.

Mya snapped out of her trance and shook out of Corey’s embrace. “Aunt Mo, you ride in the ambulance. I’ll follow behind.”

They followed the gurney outside. Mya watched as they loaded her grandmother into the back of the ambulance, then she ran to her bedroom and stripped out of her shorts, pulling on a pair of jeans and a roomy T-shirt over her tank top. She was back in the kitchen in less than two minutes.

Corey was drying his hands on a dish towel. “You ready?” he asked.

“Uh, yes. Where’s Elizabeth?” she asked.

“She took Maureen’s car to the hospital. I told her I’d drive you.”

“Okay,” Mya said with a shaky breath. She looked around the kitchen, unsure of what she was searching for. Maybe there was something they would need at the hospital. Mya didn’t realize she was trembling until Corey caught her upper arms.

“She’s going to be okay,” he said.

She stared into his confident eyes. It was easy to believe words said with such conviction. Mya fed off of it.

“Yes, she will,” she answered.

Corey gave her shoulders a light squeeze. “Then let’s get out of here. Your grandmother needs you.”

She nodded, for once grateful for his presence. “Let’s go.”

* * *

In the twenty minutes it had taken them to reach the small hospital in Maplesville, right outside of Gauthier, Mya had managed to work herself into another fit of nerves. They weighed heavy in her stomach, twisting and tangling like snakes in a hot skillet.

What if something happened to her grandmother?

“No,” Mya said out loud.

“What?” Corey asked from the driver’s seat. He’d driven fifteen miles over the posted speed limit from the moment they’d pulled away from the house, maneuvering his bulky Cadillac Escalade as if it were a sleek sports car. “Mya.” He waited for her to look at him. “She’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Mya said with a catch in her voice.

“Your grandmother is even more stubborn than Big Harold was. She’s not going anywhere for a long time.”

They pulled up to the hospital’s emergency room entrance, and Mya was out of the SUV before it came to a complete stop.

“Sir, you have to move your vehicle. This is a restricted area,” she heard someone tell Corey.

She ran to the nurses’ station. “Eloise Dubois?” she asked. “She was brought in after fainting.”

“Mya!” Maureen called.

Mya raced toward her aunt. “How is she?”

“I don’t know yet, but she was awake by the time we got here.”

“Thank God,” Mya cried.

“Come on.” Her aunt took her elbow. “The nurse said she’d come find us in the waiting room.”

Mya followed, anxiety still shooting through her veins. She crumpled into the closest chair, not trusting her legs to hold her up a second longer. She cradled her face in her hands and took a couple of slow, deep breaths. Aunt Mo sat in the chair next to her and rubbed her hand up and down Mya’s arm.

“How’d this happen, Aunt Mo?”

“Because she’s hardheaded and doesn’t like to take care of herself.” Maureen shook her head. “I know part of it is my fault. With everything going on this week with Daddy’s funeral, I haven’t been paying as much attention as I should. I usually make sure she checks her blood sugar.”

“Don’t start blaming yourself.”

“Oh, I’m not blaming myself entirely. She’s a grown woman, and she knows what she should and shouldn’t do. But like I said, she’s hardheaded. People have been bringing food over to the house around the clock, and she’s been nibbling on everything. I know they mean well, but it just makes it harder to keep the wrong foods out of Mama’s mouth.”

Familiar guilt assailed Mya once again. It wasn’t solely up to Aunt Maureen to take care of Grandma. Mya should have been here helping. Her grandparents had raised her since the age of three, after her mother had decided to leave Gauthier and make a life for herself with the first in a string of men.

It was the best thing that could have happened to Mya. Her grandparents had always been there for her, but she had not done the same in return.

Corey stalked into the waiting room. “How is she?” he asked.

“We’re still waiting on the nurse,” Aunt Mo answered.

He sat in the seat across from Mya, his knees braced apart. Snippets of grass clung to the short hairs on his legs.

“You don’t have to stay,” Mya told him.

“I’m not leaving until I know Mrs. Eloise is okay,” he answered.

“I can call—”

“Don’t try to explain anything to him,” Aunt Mo said. “He’s as stubborn as your grandmother, which is why they get along so well.”

“You and my grandmother get along?” Mya blurted. “She hated you when we were growing up.”

“She got over it,” Corey said in a clipped voice that clearly told Mya to do the same. He rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands together.

The aroma of sweat, grass and dirt hit Mya square in the face, reminding her of how he’d smelled when he would come to her after baseball practice, not bothering to take a shower. In her horny, sex-crazed teenage mind, it hadn’t mattered one bit. They would go at it like rabbits in the cab of his daddy’s dusty pickup, parked under that big pecan tree in old Mr. Herbert’s field.

Mya tore her eyes away from his toned brown legs. She didn’t need any reminders of those long-ago mistakes.

Corey rose. “I need coffee,” he said. “Anybody else want some?”

“I’d love some,” Maureen answered. “There isn’t any here, though. The nurse said the coffeemaker is broken.”

“There’s a little place right next door called Drusilla’s. They sell good egg-and-cheese sandwiches. You want something to eat?”

“Just the coffee,” Aunt Mo answered.

“Mya?” Corey asked.

She shook her head. “I’m fine.” Truth was Mya didn’t trust her stomach to keep anything down. She was a ball of nerves. She doubted the condition would improve until she saw her grandmother alert and well.

Minutes passed with only the low hum of a late-model television mounted in the corner making any noise. It was the quiet peacefulness that alerted Mya that something was missing. “Where’s Elizabeth?” she asked Aunt Mo.

“I don’t know,” her aunt said with an agitated wave of her hand. “The gift shop, I think.”

“She would find somewhere to shop,” Mya snorted.

“That’s how she calms herself down. Don’t complain. I’d rather her out there bothering those people than in here bothering me.”

“I know you had the chance to drown her at birth,” Mya said.

Aunt Mo nodded. “I should have taken it. Though you wouldn’t be here.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’d have made to save the planet from Elizabeth Dubois.”

As if she’d heard her name, her mother burst through the waiting room door, followed by a doctor in green scrubs and white tennis shoes.

“She’s going to be okay,” Elizabeth cried.

Mya jumped from her seat and rushed over to the doctor, trying not to hold her high blond ponytail and Hello Kitty earrings against her. Mya wasn’t too keen on her grandmother’s life resting in the hands of someone who looked barely out of medical school.