He looked so solid and warm and good over there. Like climbing back into his arms would be such a fabulous idea. Except that it wasn’t. It was a horrible life-destructing idea that should be stabbed and shot and left to die.
“Your brother?” I asked when he hung up.
“No, Bash,” he said. “Half of his hives have been stolen.”
Chapter Eight
“What?”
“I have to go,” he said, his expression already gone, already moved on.
That was something different about him. Once upon a time, he was the most intense and focused person I’d ever seen. Nothing ruffled him. Like at the Blue Banana when Dean got in his face. But now, he looked like a man with business problems, his head already past me and onto however Bash’s hives affected him. Sully was never a man with business problems.
His phone dinged with a text, and his whole face tightened.
“Fuck, Aidan, figure it out,” he muttered.
Now, the brother. More business problems.
Yeah. Definitely different.
“Sully.”
“I have to go,” he repeated, stalling in the doorway, finally meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, pain and anger and sadness in his voice. It felt like those two words were meant to cover a hell of a lot. Then he was gone.
I sank onto a barstool and ran my fingers over my lips, feeling where he’d been. I could still feel him there.
Don’t you get lost in him again. Don’t let him break you.
I swallowed hard.
I’m not going anywhere this time. Or is that the problem?
So many problems.
* * *
Lanie came with me out to the pavilion site the next day. My mother would have hunted her down like a dog if she hadn’t but also for moral support. And possibly to give Sully the evil eye. I was pretty sure Lanie’d been waiting to do that for a really, really long time.
She didn’t get the chance.
When we got there, chaos was everywhere. There were probably twelve people with homemade signs protesting in front of the pond. Their signs read, Save our Buzz and No Honey, No Money. One said The Lucky Charm isn’t Charming!
I’d bet that Dean had planned out those slogans for a week.
Sully looked like he could chew up the nails in his bag. Every muscle in his shoulders and neck popped when he moved. And something seemed to be missing. Something seemed less crowded. Something—
“The wood is gone!” Monte said in a non-whispered whisper, hurrying over to us.
“The what?” I asked. “The wood—oh, holy shit.”
That’s what it was. The stack of wood Sully had brought in—even the sections that had already been started on the portable pavilion—was gone.
“I heard that Bash’s bees were jacked,” Monte said in a hushed tone. “It looks like our wood was, too.”
“This is crazy,” I said. I looked at Lanie. “I have to go talk to him,” I said. “As a lawyer.”
She gave me a knowing look. “Because a lawyer comes to a crime scene to work a burglary?”
I felt so fortunate that Monte happened to be standing there to hear my own words come back at me. It was a moment of utmost pride and joy.
“Okay then, as a friend,” I said. “He was…” I hadn’t told her about the kiss yet. Yeah, I was a coward. “He was at my house when he got the call about the hives, so it just makes sense to ask him about the wood.”
Her eyes got wide at the word house, so as soon as the last word was out of my mouth, I made a little go ahead motion with my hand. I had it coming.
“He was at your house?”
I nodded, watching Sully and Kia talk to two officers next to the trailer. His body language was tense and spring-loaded, like he could drive a whole bag of nails with his bare hands.
“Yes, Mother,” I said, glancing around to make sure my actual mother wasn’t around. She was, of course, but on the other side of the group. “I left my wallet at the gym. He dropped it off.”
Lanie put a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. “Uh huh.”
“What, do you want a play-by-play?” I said, feigning nonchalance. “We talked about stuff.”
“And?”
“Kia’s like a sister, and they’re just friends,” I said.
Lanie nodded, studying me way too closely. I felt like I was back in high school, convincing my mom I hadn’t had anything to drink. I looked back toward the trailer. Kia was heading inside as the policemen left.
My mother walked up, hair up in a cute blinged-out cap and the ever-present clipboard in her hand.
“Hi, Mom,” I said. “Here’s Lanie. I’ll be right back.”
I walked over to Sully, with my best friend’s death stare burning a hole in the back of my head. I’d make it up to her later.
“They took the wood,” Sully told me as I approached. He was loud enough that several people looked over.
“I heard,” I said. “They just—”
“Did you just hear?” he said, the anger visibly seething just under the surface. “Or does it have something to do with you?”
Taken aback, I stopped short. “Excuse me?”
“Ever since I got here, it’s been nothing but shit,” he said. He paced, pointing at me every time he got close. “From this town, from every asshole who thinks they have a point to make. About me.” His voice got louder. “From every know-it-all prick and princess who thinks they know me.” He stopped and pointed again. “Because of you.”
All my Spidey senses told me to stand down, that he was just frustrated and blowing off steam and it wasn’t directed at me. But it sure as hell felt directed at me.
“You’re… blaming me?”
“You told me it was personal—me coming here,” he said, walking closer.
I held up my chin, refusing to be intimidated. “Yes.”
The trailer door opened behind him and Kia’s curious face appeared. As she looked from him, to me, and then to the crowd behind us, her expression went neutral.
“You’re right, it was personal,” he said. “Of all the crapfuck towns we stopped in, this one was the only one that felt like anything. That we connected to in any way.” One more step, just inches away. “Even when it wasn’t about you, it was still the closest thing I ever felt to having a hometown. So yes, choosing Charmed was personal.”
I blinked. “Okay.”
“And every day, it’s a fight. I’m trying to build something new, and the damn place is divided on it because fifteen years ago I met you. How fucked up is that?”
His phone dinged with a text. Grimacing, he strode straight to the water’s edge and, with a roar, hurled the phone as far as he could throw it as the protestors parted like the Red Sea.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
Walking back up, he stopped a few feet from me. I felt the reverent hush behind me, like I was taking one for the team.
“All the wood, the hives—someone’s trying to drive me out of here.” Every muscle in his face twitched. “Is that you?”
I backed up a step and scrunched my face into the nastiest look I could muster. A look that said he was a son of a bitch for even thinking that question.
“Are you serious?” I hissed.
“Couldn’t be more,” he said through gritted teeth.
I narrowed my eyes, unable to believe the toxicity that was flowing out of his.
“How could you ask me that?” I asked, hands on hips now. He’d better hurry and answer, because once my mom caught up to this conversation, his missing wood would be the least of his worries.
“Because you want me gone,” he said. “What better way?”
Oh, he’d better friggin’ believe I wanted him gone right that second. If I could have thrown him into the pond with his phone, I would have.
“You think I know how to steal bees?” I asked, my voice shaking with barely restrained rage. “That I have a way to jack whole pallets of wood?”
“Excuse m
e?” My mother was right behind me. I closed my eyes as I heard the rant about to ramp up. “You’re accusing Carmen of—”
“I know that someone’s pretty smart,” he cut her off. “They know I need that honey industry to be thriving. But what someone doesn’t understand,” he yelled so everyone behind me could hear, “is that Bash’s business is going to take a serious hit. You can’t just move hives wherever you want. It throws the bees into reorientation. If they can reorient at all. You live in a beekeeping town, people. You should know this! You aren’t just hurting me, you’re messing with one of your own.”
“Sully—” Kia said.
“I’m fine,” he said, putting up a hand to stop her. His angry eyes burned into me. “They don’t want me here because I left you,” he growled. “And you don’t want me here because I want to stay.” He untied the canvas nail bag from his waist and threw it on the ground. “To hell with all of you.”
I wanted to respond with the perfect retort, but my brain was frozen. Sully stormed off to his truck and drove away. I breathed in slowly, feeling all the eyes of Charmed on me. Waiting. Judging. And one pair of eyes in particular.
“Not now, Mom,” I whispered without turning around, trying to hold it all in.
“I wasn’t saying a thing,” she said. I knew her arms were crossed by the tone of her voice.
Lanie walked up and took my hand. “C’mon. Nothing’s happening here now. It’s Saturday. Let’s go spend some money or something. Get a pedicure.”
I loved her for that. I knew she really wanted to go rip Sully a new one, and she was comforting me instead. Honestly though, I didn’t need comforting. I needed a reckoning. I was damn tired of being called out in public. I turned to meet Kia’s dark-eyed gaze, and for someone I’d never known, she seemed strangely in sync with me.
“Give him a minute,” she said.
* * *
I gave him a minute. I gave him an hour. I took a raincheck from Lanie and promised her I wouldn’t do anything crazy. Although if she’d known what really went down at my house last night, I doubt she would have taken my word. I wouldn’t have.
The crowd had thinned; only the nosiest stuck around to talk to the protestors and wait for more excitement that never came. I didn’t know what they thought would happen—maybe all the bees would come flying up in a blaze of glory, carrying the wood on their little backs buzzing heave-ho! in unison?
Dean hadn’t come today, so he’d missed the show. I wondered if he was with Bash, looking for the hives, or if he was just laying low over his lack of support for the project. As the mayor, that would be the smartest move, and if we were still married, that’s what I would have advised, but we weren’t and it wasn’t my business.
And Sully actually accused me? That blew me away. His drama wasn’t my business either, but it sure was pulling at me, telling me it wanted to be. I was such a hypocrite.
Possibly a stupid one, I mused as I pulled onto Maple Street and parked behind the big black truck. What was I hoping to achieve, coming here to provoke an already angry man? I was like a kid poking an anthill with a stick, hoping not to get bitten, but I was a bit ticked myself. So, poke.
I rang the doorbell and looked around at the newly planted greenery. I didn’t get it. I didn’t get it at my house either, which was why it still looked as plain and unadorned as it did the day I moved in. The smell of fresh dirt and potting soil wasn’t unpleasant, though. It reminded me of my childhood, as Lanie’s aunt was always planting or digging up and moving things she felt needed a new aura. The aroma had a weirdly soothing, domestic feel to it.
I would never say that out loud to another living soul.
The door swung inward as the screen door swung outward.
“What are you doing here, Carmen?”
Another aroma hit my nose, something soft and sweet contrasting with the sharp edges in his tone. Chocolate. Nuts. But—definitely chocolate. Wasn’t enough. I was still pissed.
“No, I didn’t steal your damn wood, or move any bees,” I said. “What the hell would I do with bees?”
He looked ready to chew on a few. “Whatever. I’m sorry,” he forced out.
“Wow, you really have the welcoming thing down,” I said.
“I’m not in the mood,” he said.
“Aw, damn,” I said. “And I’m so giddy after what you just did. I wasn’t all about you barging into my house last night, but it didn’t stop you.”
“Be my guest.” He walked away, leaving the inner door open as the screen door slammed shut.
I laughed rather than voice one of the not-so-nice comments that danced on my tongue. I’d save them for a more effective moment, like one with the person standing in front of me rather than a door.
Yanking the screen door open, I followed him in. Being in Sully’s house felt weird. Like last night, everything flipped out of context. We never had houses before; we were lucky to have cars. I’d been inside his carnival trailer, but it was cramped and messy and crammed with three other people. It wasn’t a home; it was a glorified tent. This was… odd. The furniture was sparse but decent. A couch and a recliner faced a flat-screen TV in the living room, which was open to a small dining area. A beautiful old wooden table stood there, with equally old chairs. I stopped to run my fingers along the scarred wood.
“It was my mother’s.”
I jumped, startled, and looked up to see him leaning in the kitchen doorway.
“It’s beautiful.”
He looked down at it for a moment, then shrugged and turned back to the kitchen.
“She saved some things in storage, and my dad took over the payments when she died,” he said. “I didn’t even know about it till after his funeral.”
I frowned and followed him, surprised at the large kitchen. There was even an island in the middle. “I didn’t know your mother died, too,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, pulling a glass baking dish from the fridge and moving it to a trivet on the counter. “I was ten when she left, and twenty when I got the news that she died, so I really didn’t know her well.”
“Wait,” I said. “Twenty? That’s the—”
“The year that ruined everyone’s lives?” he asked, yanking open a drawer. “Yeah, it was. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Something in me softened. What he’d said last night about not wanting that life for me, about raising kids there… I wondered if there had been a flip side to that worry. About being left again.
“Okay, let’s stick to the current day then,” I said, remembering the dressing down he’d given me in the park.
“Yeah, let’s do that,” he said, acid still dripping from his words. He pulled out a serving spatula and cut into a piece of whatever was in that pan that smelled amazing. “Grab a bowl from that cabinet, will you?”
I opened a door that revealed mismatched bowls and plates and glasses. Real glass ones, still with the stickers on the bottom. I grabbed a blue bowl and handed it to him as he fished for spoons. As normal as that sounded, it wasn’t. It was like someone had pushed a button and amped up the energy in the room, and Sully had received the lightning-bolt portion. He was almost vibrating with it.
“Where’s Kia?” I asked. “Isn’t she living here, too?”
“She’s still at the trailer, I guess,” he said. “She’s doing some office work for me there.” He glanced my way. “I figured setting up a trailer on site to take care of business would be more efficient, and Kia’s good at that stuff. She likes structure.”
“She should go back to school for it,” I said. “Get a—”
Sully snorted. “There’s no back to school,” he said. “We were home schooled. What she learned outside of that, she picked up on her own and she likes it, but college isn’t in our world.”
“You both left that world, so I’d say it’s a choice,” I said.
“Whatever.”
Oh, whatever. But I quickly forgave him, since he was serving up somethin
g that made my mouth water.
Graham cracker crust, chocolate pudding maybe? Then vanilla. Then—chocolate again. With whipped cream and shaved chocolate on top and I thought I saw a layer of nuts in there too. Dear God, it was like the mother ship had sent an offering, served up by Thor.
“Can we talk about what—”
A spoonful of heaven went into my mouth, stopping all sound except for the moan of delight that escaped my throat.
“Jesus,” Sully said, the tone in his voice making my eyes pop open. I didn’t even know they’d closed. His expression had gone from enraged to lustful in under a second. “Do that again.”
Men.
“Sorry,” I said, around the explosion of flavor on my tongue. “God, that’s good. What is it?”
“Sex in a Pan,” he said.
“Seriously.”
“I didn’t make it up,” he said. “But it fits.”
“It—” My eyes landed on something on the far wall. “Please tell me you don’t wear that.”
He followed my gaze to the black apron hanging on a hook, and his face closed up. It was back to nasty Sully.
“If I’m cooking something messy, I do,” he said. “Is that a problem?”
I grabbed the spoon and took another bite, refusing to look in the direction of anything apron-ish. All of this—all of it—was making me crazy and more of the sex chocolate was necessary.
“Oh holy orgasms, this is to die for,” I mumbled, grabbing the island. When I looked back at him, he was looking at me like I was in that pan. “What?”
“You’re killing me.”
“You’re due.”
“And what’s wrong with the apron?” he asked.
I held up a hand. “Don’t spoil it.”
He held up two. “What spoils it?”
I dropped the spoon and gestured around me. “This, Martha Stewart! Who are you?”
He dropped his spoon, too, and gave me a look. “You did not just call me that.”
“How can you be so damn domestic now?” I blurted. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you can feed me this all day long, but—”
“As long as someone else cooks it or you don’t see it happening, right?” he said, that anger flashing to the surface again. Yep, the anthill.
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