Kulti (32 page)

“Right? I get enough crap from other people; I don’t want it from my sister too. I just want her to be happy. I could care less if she’s good at soccer or not. Anyway, my mom likes to say that you always fight with the people you love the most, so oh well. My dad and I are always bickering about something. I guess she’s right.” I walked over to the ladder on the side of the bunk beds, hands gripping the sides of it. “You have a brother, right?” I asked, knowing damn well he definitely had a brother, an older one.

“Yes,” he answered, scooting back further onto the bed. Something weird stirred in my chest watching him sitting on my bed in his pants, thin shirt and big bare feet. It was so
homey
, so natural. For so long I’d had to remind myself that he was just a regular man, but seeing him there like that really nailed it home.

It was so cute. He was so cute.

“I haven’t seen him in three years,” he added unexpectedly.

I looked at him through the rungs of the stairs. “Jeez. Why?”

“We’ve never been close. He has his own life and I have mine.“

How lonely did that sound? Sure I wanted to strangle my sister sometimes, but she was usually in a good mood at least a handful of times a year. “Not even when you were little?”

Kulti hunched his shoulders up casually, settling back against the two pillows propped on the wall. “I left my parents’ home when I was eleven, Sal. I haven’t seen them for longer than a month at a time since then.”

The ‘holy shit’ was apparent on my face, it had to be. I’d known he’d gone to some soccer academy before his career took off, but he’d been eleven when he left home? That was one of the neediest times in a kid’s life. He’d been so
little
. Jesus.

“You were there all the time?”

He nodded.

“Didn’t you ever… get lonely?”

Kulti studied my face. “At first, but you get over it.”

Get over it? At eleven? Good gracious. Where was the nurturing?

“Do… you still see your parents?” I asked, not sure whether I was going into territory he didn’t want to get into or not.

A small sharp snicker came out of his mouth. “My mother called me a few days ago saying she’s ready for a new house.”

I had to fight back a wince. Him buying it for her was implied, wasn’t it? “It’s nice that you take care of her.” I trailed off, not really sure if it was nice or not, or whether he genuinely wanted to provide for them. Because I mean, who demands a new house? Where the hell do you get the balls to do that?

He blinked and confirmed my suspicion that he might have been getting forced into buying his mom a house. Feeling uncomfortable that I had brought up something a little sensitive, I reached forward and ran my index finger up the sole of his foot, surprised when he jerked it away violently.

I stood there and watched him with a big dumb smile on my face. “You’re ticklish?”

With both knees now to his chest he scowled over. “No.”

“Ha.” I laughed. “That’s cute.”

He didn’t look like he was amused.

I gripped the bars and smiled over at him before climbing up to the bunk bed, conscious to keep my long T-shirt tucked between my thighs on the way up. “Will you get the light or should I turn it off? I’m ready to go to bed but you can leave it on, it won’t bother me. The remote is by the dresser.”

“I’ll get it,” he said, the mattress making some creaking noises as I heard him settle in.

Getting comfortable, I pulled the sheets up to my chin and rolled onto my good shoulder, facing the wall. “All right. Night, Rey. Wake me up if you need something,” I yawned.

From below, the German said, “Goodnight,
schnecke
.”

“You’re not calling me a shithead or anything, are you?” I yawned again, drawing the sheet up higher to cover my eyes.

“No,” he replied simply.

“Okay. If you want to go home tomorrow or if you’d rather stay in a hotel if you aren’t comfortable, let me know, all right?”

“Yes.”

One last lion-like yawn made my chest expand wide. “Okay. Night, night.”

He might have said “Goodnight” again, but I was pretty much out the second I finished talking.

I
crept
down the bunk-bed stairs when the room was still dark. It didn’t matter if I set an alarm; more often than not, my body just knew it was time to get up. As quietly as I could I fumbled around for my clothes, barely able to see. I pulled my nightshirt up over my head…

Then the fan light came on.

I froze. I froze there in my underwear, wearing nothing else.

“What are you doing?” Kulti’s sleep-thick voice asked.

Well then. I could freak out and make a big deal out of standing there mostly naked, or I could take it like a champ and make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal that I was topless and in one of my oldest pairs of value-pack panties.

“I’m going for a run,” I said slowly in a whisper, still not moving an inch. “Go back to sleep.”

There was a pause and then the mattress started creaking. I knew beforehand what he was going to say. “I’ll come.”

Oh dear God.

I went to my knees as fast as possible and now that I was able to see, pulled my sports bra on as fast as lightning just as the shrill squeak of what had to be Kulti getting off the bed warned me my time was up. I didn’t even let myself think that he’d probably caught a glimpse of side boob. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen hundreds of boobs before but these were mine. Wearing a sports bra was one thing, boobs flopping freely was another.

I yanked a racer-back tank on before standing up, already holding my running shorts in one hand, ready to pull them on as soon as possible. But I sure as shit wasn’t going to bend over and put them on with my butt facing him.

Except just as I turned around, I stopped. Because the German was facing me, watching me as he stood there in boxer briefs. Only boxer briefs. Was his face all sleepy? Maybe, but I sure as hell wasn’t looking at his face when I turned around. All I saw were his flat six-pack abs and square pecs, the low rise of his heather-gray boxer briefs and wood.

The morning wood tucked against his thigh.

I coughed and eyed his thigh one more time before quickly stepping into my shorts and pulling them up my legs, just as he pulled up his own pair of running shorts.

I couldn’t breathe, and I really couldn’t look him in the face as I grabbed my socks off the floor. “Umm, I’ll, uh, wait for you in the kitchen.”

He grunted his agreement and I hauled ass out of there, walking out before I remembered I left my shoes in the room. I went back in, grabbed them without looking at the boner—I mean, Kulti—and going back out. My dad was already gone, the coffeepot was on for my mom who was already getting ready for work. I filled up two water bottles from the collection I had here and drank a glass while I waited for the German. It didn’t occur to me until he arrived in the kitchen that I should have brushed my teeth.

“Ready?” I asked.

Sleepy and his eyes and cheeks puffy, he nodded.

Don’t glance at his crotch, don’t glance at his crotch.

I glanced. Just real quick.

“Eyes up here, Taco.”

I wanted to die. “What?” I slowly looked up to see a smug look on his swollen mouth.

By some miracle, he decided not to embarrass me and say he knew I was full of shit playing dumb. Was I going to take advantage of the pass he was giving me? Hell yeah.

I waved Kulti forward, noticing he’d taken the wrap off his freshly inked tattoo. A hint of dark lines peeked out from his shirtsleeve. “Come on. I’m not going to take it easy on your old knees, so you better keep up.”

“
I
f you want
to go somewhere, you can borrow my car,” I told the German over breakfast a couple hours later.

He leaned back in his seat, polishing off a hardboiled egg. “I don’t.”

“Think about it if you want. I’m going to trim the yard first, and then I want to head to the mall to buy my dad his birthday present. It’ll take me a couple hours until I’m ready to go. “

“You’re mowing the yard?” he asked.

I nodded.

Those green-brown eyes focused in right on my face and a moment later he said, “I’ll help you.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.”

“Rey, you don’t—“

“I’m not lazy,” he cut me off. “I can help.”

I eyed him for a second, the brief image of what I was sure was a good fat eight inches under his boxer briefs filling my head, and then pushed the image back, remembering what the hell we were talking about. “All right, if you really want to.”

Because, seriously? I doubted he cut his own lawn, but he wanted to help me do my dad’s? All right. I was stubborn, but I wasn’t dumb enough to not take help when it was offered.

A few minutes later we were outside, and he was helping me take my dad’s ancient mower out of the garage—he took his good one with him to work—and his back-up edger and weed-eater. “Which would you rather do?” I asked him once all our equipment was on the driveway.

He shrugged, looking at the mower with interest.

I would have bet my life he hadn’t mowed a lawn in a couple of decades, if ever. Hadn’t he just told me the night before how little time he’d spent with his family once he started at the soccer academy? Even then had he ever spent time doing housework when he was so busy being a childhood prodigy?

I was tempted to tell him I could do it all myself, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

He’d come to San Antonio with me because ‘he had nothing else to do.’ He’d offered to help me probably for the same reason. The poor guy was alone and bored. I had a feeling he didn’t have many friends, he’d admitted to not being close to his family, and all that together made me just sort of sad. It made me want to help him, to include him in things. I wanted him to get his feet wet with life.

What was the best thing to do?

“You mow, and I’ll take care of the edging and weeds,” I told him, making sure I wasn’t giving him a look of pity. “All right?”

His long fingers wrapped around the upper bar of the mower and he nodded.

I handed him a pair of disposable earplugs, safety glasses and a smile that was encouraging but not too encouraging. I said a prayer that we’d make it through this intact.

Reiner Kulti took almost an hour to cut my dad’s front and back lawn. He had to take two passes in the front to get the lines even, and he almost ruined the engine once when he didn’t empty out the bag. It was my fault, I hadn’t told him how. He did it without asking a single question, and I didn’t offer any advice either.

He looked so damn proud of himself, I almost cried. Honestly. I felt like a mom dropping off her baby boy at preschool.

I slapped him on the back and kept the ‘good job, buddy’ to myself before putting up the equipment.

H
e had
that look in his eye again. The same one he’d had when he’d been looking at the lawn mower.

“Have you ever been to a mall before?” I asked him once we were through the glass doors.

Kulti had his attention on everything around us. His hair was concealed by the baggy beanie he had pulled low on his head, and he’d been thoughtful enough to wear a long-sleeved button-down chambray shirt that I had a feeling cost more than my entire outfit put together. With his hair and tattoo covered, we were pretty confident that he wouldn’t be recognized.

I hoped. I really, really hoped. The idea of a mob lusting after him was something out of my worst nightmares.

“Yes I have been to a mall before,” he muttered.

“The Galleria doesn’t count,” I told him, referring to the huge shopping center in Houston with all the designer stores.

He blinked those beautiful light eyes down at me. “I’ve been to several malls,” he insisted. “A long time ago.”

I groaned and shoved at the elbow he hadn’t gotten work done on, earning a small smile. “Well don’t steal anything because I won’t bail you out, okay?”

“Yes,
schnecke
.”

“Good.” I grabbed his wrist and gave him a tug in the direction of one of the stores I needed to visit.

The German looked at every store and booth we walked by until I found one of the businesses I was looking for. Right in the center of the aisle were the massage chairs and masseuses my dad loved coming to every time he went to the mall. “Let me get a gift certificate real quick,” I told him after I’d stopped right by the booth. He nodded and watched as one of the male masseuses rubbed down a woman’s shoulders.

“You want one?” I asked after paying for a gift certificate.

He shook his head.

“Sure?”

He nodded. “What’s next?”

“A new pair of tennis shoes.” I pointed at the store close by. “He never buys himself new shoes, so we all have to buy him some, otherwise he’ll wear the same pair until they’re taped together.”

I could have sworn he smiled as he walked alongside me into the shoe store. I knew exactly what I was getting, even though I wished Kulti wasn’t around to watch. He was busy looking at the rows on the walls when the store employee came over.

“Can I help you?” the young guy asked, eyeing me with a little too much interest considering I was probably almost ten years older than him.

I pointed at the pair I wanted, careful to keep my back to the German a few feet behind me and said, “Size nine and a half, please.”

The employee nodded in approval. “The RK 10s in black?”

I bristled at the fact he was talking about them out loud. “Yes, please.”

“We have the Kulti 10s on sale for women,” he offered, pointing at the shoes on the opposite side of the store.

“Just the men’s,” I smiled at him.

“The 9s are buy one, get one half off,” he kept going.

“I’m all right. Thanks, though.”

He shrugged. “I’ll be back, then.”

Thank God. I turned around to see the German holding a running shoe up to his face with interest.

“Those are nice,” I chipped in.

Those green-brown eyes flicked up to mine and he nodded in agreement. “Did you find what you wanted?” he asked, setting the shoe back on the rack.