“Okay, you leave me no choice. I tried to do this the nice way, but this is all on you, buddy.” I wave the broom at him and get a little braver.
I’m not exactly sure of what happens next, but there is a lot of broom fighting, wing flapping, and hysterical screaming, but I eventually slam the bedroom door closed with me on the inside and the chicken in the hallway.
Kimmie, one. Chicken, zero.
I drop my broom and flake out on the bed with the light on. I’m not taking any chances. I check the time and it’s now four in the morning. I’m going to be dragging later in the day. This time I close my eyes with an accomplished smile on my face and fall asleep instantly.
There’s a comforting warmth on my face. I stretch my hands above my head, smile, and slowly open my eyes to the sight of sunlight coming in the window. I’m so eager to get to work today. I roll over and come face to beak with a beady eyed, golden brown feathered, very unhappy chicken sitting on the pillow beside my head.
I scream, roll in the opposite direction away from the chicken, and fall with a bounce to the floor. My ass hits hard and a sharp pain radiates up my left leg. Now I’m mad. I jump up and stare the chicken down. Slapping my hands on my hips, I snap, “Listen, we have got to come to an understanding here. This is my bedroom and you don’t belong in here. You don’t even belong in the house, so you have to go.”
All I get is a tilted head. I wave my hands in the air. “Go on. Get out.”
I move closer to the bed and the chicken doesn’t budge. Taking my life in my own hands, I reach out and put them around the chicken and gently lift him. His feathers are soft. Holding the chicken away from my body, I start for the door, but then I notice a single bluish egg in the middle of the pillow. That’s one way to tell a boy chicken from a girl chicken.
“Breakfast!” I exclaim and reach out to pick up the egg and the chicken flaps her wings and pecks my hands. I drop the egg back on the pillow and the chicken flies from my grasp and struts around the bed before taking up roost once more on the pillow, ending any chance I may have had of a fresh egg. Scrambled with just a bit of salt and pepper.
With my hands back on my hips, I give her a disgusted glare and admit this round goes to the chicken. “Fine. You just stay here. I have work to do today.”
I keep an eye on the chicken while I make use of the bathroom, brush my teeth, and wash and moisturize my face. I debate on the few choices of outfits I have to wear. Honestly, I hadn’t packed to be a one woman only cleaning crew. I’d packed to be a successful Inn owner. That was still months away. There was that much work to do.
Even when my other things arrive on the ferry, I still won’t have what I need to get down and dirty scrubbing and cleaning. If Lili could see me now, she wouldn’t believe it. She really wouldn’t believe the chicken.
I decide on a navy pair of linen slacks and a coral button up sleeveless blouse. Shoes were another problem. My best choice is a pair of wedge sandals. With a yawn, I stick my tongue out at the chicken still taking up residence on my pillow and head downstairs. I need a cup of coffee, stat.
No matter how many cabinets I open, coffee does not make an appearance. I’d settle on tea, but there isn’t any of that either. A check of the fridge doesn’t turn up anything but a box of baking soda. My stomach growls. I glare up at the ceiling. That darn egg would have been delicious.
A movement from the window catches my eye. I move closer and see a young girl sitting among the branches of a tree outside the kitchen window. She can’t be more than ten. She has on a shift dress that’s dirty and torn in a few spots. Her adorable face has smudges of who knows what and her hair is a wild knotted mess. Her legs and feet are bare and I see a few scrapes and scratches which evidently don’t bother the girl at all.
I wave with a smile. The girl’s solemn face doesn’t change emotion and she doesn’t return my wave. She stares at me and I gasp when she jumps down from the high limb and runs off into the trees.
I wonder if I should go after her. Do parents on the island let their children run wild? I’ll ask someone about her. Maybe she was just checking me out. My stomach growls again, reminding me to feed it.
Okay, maybe groceries are the first order of business. But how do I get to town? It isn’t that far. I can walk. It’s a beautiful day and I’ll be able to see more of my new hometown. I run back up the stairs and grab my handbag.
The chicken is still on my pillow. “You can sit there all day if you want to.”
I’ll pick a different bedroom tonight. Of course, that means I have to clean it. I rush past the weeds and overgrown yard as quickly as I can so I don’t see them or the lizard.
After a mile, I’m sweating. To take my mind off my aching feet and rivulets of sweat, I pull my phone out and glare at the empty bars. Nothing. Really? I’m still griping to myself about the phone situation when I hear a vehicle in the distance.
Chapter 5
Bode
I see the damn fool woman in the distance and I know without a doubt I must offer her a ride. My mom would box my ears if I didn’t stop. What is she even doing out here this early? I know she was staying the night at the Winters’.
The closer I get to her, I see she’s wearing another ridiculous designer outfit. There is really no problem until I pull up beside her and stop and, with my best welcoming smile, start to ask if she needs a ride. But then I look into her sea blue eyes and can’t look away.
I’d seen her picture at a town meeting, but Kimberly Westmoreland in the flesh is stunning. Her creamy complexion is already tinged with pink from the sun. I hope she uses sunscreen because skin that flawless should be protected. Her eyes meet mine and we both grin. She has her hair pulled up on top of her head with curls of blonde running riot around her shoulders. What I wouldn’t give to run my fingers through the strands and grip it tightly while taking her mouth.
My cock twitches at the image as I take in those lips. They are full and pouty and the V in her top lip forms a perfect heart. I’d love to spend quality time with those lips.
Her beautiful lips open and she asks, “Are you okay?”
I shake my head to clear the vision and come back to the present. Her head is tipped in question and I feel like an idiot. I clear my throat and in a raspy voice say, “Yeah, sure. I’m okay.”
She gives a single nod and then bites her bottom lip like she’s trying to make up her mind about something. Decision made, she looks back up. “Good. Ummm, are you by chance heading into town? I mean, I don’t usually take rides from strangers. I’ll pay you for the ride.”
Suddenly, I don’t want to be a stranger to her. “Bode,” I say out of the blue.
Her eyes draw together in confusion. “Excuse me?”
Why am I acting like a damn fool? I thin my lips and repeat a bit more harshly than my momma would approve, “My name is Bode Murphy. Come on and get in and I’ll take you to town.”
The smile on her face slowly fades at my abrupt tone. “No. That’s okay. I don’t want to be any trouble. It’s a gorgeous day; I can walk.”
Now I feel like a heel and I want to see that smile again. I just can’t seem to get the irritation out of my voice. “It’s no trouble. Just get in before you burn from the sun. Your face is already red.”
This time when our eyes meet, I can tell she is losing patience with me. I take a deep breath and let my frustration at being attracted to her out slowly with the hot air in my lungs. As far as first impressions go, I’ve blown this one. In a much more pleasant voice, I try again, “Please, let me take you to town it’s the least I can do after being so rude to you.”
Cautiously, she walks around to the passenger side. I lean over and open the truck door. I could kick myself when she has to work to climb in. I should have gotten out to help her. Once she’s settled and buckled in, she sits with her hands in her lap. “Thank you. I appreciate the ride. My name is Kimberly Westmoreland, by the way.”
I chuckle as I put the truck in gear. “I know wh
o you are. The town has been talking about you for weeks.”
I glance over and find her eyes fixed on my biceps. Her nostrils flare and she swallows. Yeah, she likes what she sees. Good to know we have a mutual attraction. Then I frown because that means absolutely nothing.
She quickly looks away when she notices me watching her. “That’s very sweet of them. I met a few of them yesterday when I arrived. Is it some town holiday?”
I glance over. “No, why do you ask that?”
“Well, I noticed most of the stores were closed. I just thought it was because of a celebration or something.”
Kimberly Westmoreland is smart also. I’m not sure how long the town can keep her in the dark and I feel guilty for not telling her myself. “No. No celebration. We do have a Buccaneer Day in August. Well, it’s more like a week of celebrations.”
Her hair bounces when she turns from the window with a curious grin. “What’s Buccaneer Day?”
I wonder if Ms. Westmoreland will still be here in August. Strangely, I hope so. “You know anything about the history of Faire Island?” I ask.
She shakes her head and the curls jostle atop her head. “No. I’m afraid I don’t.”
“It might help you to know that Faire is a Scottish word for watch. In the late 1600s, pirates made the coast of North Carolina their home. Some to retire and some to lay low until their next foray. They all settled on the mainland and Faire Island became their early warning defense against other pirates or from being discovered by the English Navy. A watch was formed on the island to sound the alarm if ships were sighted.”
“Watch Island,” she mumbled. “How did they do that? I mean, how did they alert the pirates the enemy was coming?”
“By fire. If you travel to the west side of the island, you’ll find replicas of the bonfire towers the original watch used. They would light one fire for each ship sighted so those on the mainland would know how to prepare.”
“That’s incredible. There’s a lot of history bred into the life here. I had no idea.”
“Yes, there is. Most every native islander is a descendent of the original watch. Of course, all of that is handed down stories from one generation to the next, so I don’t know how much stock you can put in the accuracy.” I glance over and find her enthralled with the tale.
“Wow. I want to do some research now that you’ve got me hooked on island history.” She mutters “If I can ever get reception on my phone.” Sighing, she slumps back in the seat.
I laugh. “You can forget that. We’re too far from any towers to get any bars.” Another reason why Kimberly’s days on the island are limited. She’ll never adjust to the isolation. I don’t care how attractive I find her; I’m not going to start something when I have history proving how it will end.
“How do you call anyone? Or get on the internet?” she asks.
“The old-fashioned way. Landlines and dial-ups. You have a phone at the Inn, but you’ll need to have it connected.”
Kimberly laughs and the sound goes right to my gut. I grit my teeth; it’s not happening.
“I saw the phone on the wall, but I thought it was an antique. I have no idea how to connect through a dial-up. Do those even work these days?”
“You’ll learn quickly. What were you doing at the Inn this morning?”
“I spent the night there and I already have a very lengthy punch list.”
I cut my eyes to hers. “You spent the night at the Inn?”
She turns her head toward me, her brows slanted in question. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”
I don’t see her suitcase, so she must not be leaving. I never thought a woman like her would stay anywhere but a five-star hotel. “No one has lived there in a long time.”
She chuckles and rests her arm on the door. “I could tell. But I cleaned a bedroom and bath and got along fine. I notice you have a truck full of plants. I could use some landscaping services. Would you come out and give me a quote for the job?”
She thinks I’m a landscaper? I start to open my mouth and tell her I own the only flight service and fishing tours on the island, but the part of me that’s still twitching keeps me quiet. “Sure. I’ll be glad to. Maybe when I bring you back from town.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure I can catch a ride with someone going my way.”
Does she really think that? This isn’t the city where you can raise your hand and flag down a taxi. But it is a small town where anyone will go out of their way to help you and I don’t want it to be anyone other than me taking her home. “It’s no problem. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you going into town for?”
I’ll just need to rearrange my day and call Patrick to fly the flowers over to Wilmington. No biggie. I try to convince myself of this.
“A medicinal cup of coffee and then groceries. And I need to go to the hardware store. My kitchen sink is broken.”
She looks like she wouldn’t have a clue how to fix a kitchen sink. “So why would someone like you move here?”
Her lips thin. I’ve made her mad again. She turns her eyes toward me and I clearly see she’s not happy.
“Excuse me. Someone like me?”
I scramble to explain. “I’m sorry, I have no idea why I said that. I meant no disrespect. I just mean you’re beautiful and very uptown. Why would you want to move to Faire Island? We don’t even have one of those designer coffee shops.”
“I suppose I was ready for a change. You aren’t far off with the uptown remark, but I’d like to think that I’ve never lived a materialistic life. Since college, I’ve been working for a non-profit that recently changed hands. I guess you could say my job left me instead of me leaving the job. My nana owned a small inn and I loved spending time there. When I found the contest online, I thought it would be an interesting challenge if I were to win.”
I’m hearing that she doesn’t have any actual experience running a hotel. The odds of her leaving before August just increased. “I know your business plan impressed the contest committee.”
“Are you on the committee?” she asks.
“No. But my father and mother are. They are both anxious to meet you. My dad runs the marina and my mom mostly runs the gossip mill in town.”
Kimberly laughs at that and I glance over and meet her cheerful eyes. She’s even more beautiful when she smiles. I shouldn’t be noticing that. I jerk my eyes back to the road as I pull into the parking lot of the only option the island has for a grocery store.
“This is the Stop N Shop. Most folks buy the bulk of their groceries off-island, but you should find the basic staples of what you need here. And on Wednesdays and Saturdays, there’s a fresh market on the town square where you can get everything from goat soap to fresh veggies and seafood.”
That brightens her eyes. “I can’t wait to go. Lili and I used to go to a flea market near where we lived and I loved seeing all the curious things we’d find.”
Again, I just can’t see her visiting a flea market or digging around in dirty, rusty junk. “When you get finished, just ask Homer to stow your groceries in the refrigeration case until we come back. He’s got a coffee pot in the back, so just ask him for a cup. It’s what everyone does since the only other place to get a cup is over at Edda Mae’s diner.” I point to the opposite side of the street. “The hardware store is across the street. What about meeting at noon for lunch at Edda Mae’s Café?”
Her smile falters. “Um, I ate there yesterday.”
I was right; the food didn’t suit her palate. I should give her that one, though. Edda Mae’s doesn’t suit mine either. “I’m afraid other than grabbing the makings for sandwiches at the grocery store and eating at the marina, there isn’t another choice.”
That got her lips to pull back into a smile. “Sandwiches it is.”
“I tell you what. Leave lunch to me. I’ve got to go make this delivery, but I’ll meet you back here at noon. That gives you two hours. Is that enough time?”
“A
bsolutely. That will be fine. Are you sure I’m not being a nuisance to you?”
Our eyes meet and I can’t remember why it isn’t a good idea. “It’s not a problem at all.”
I watch her as she walks to the door of the Stop N Shop. She pauses with her hand on the door handle and glances back at me. Our eyes connect again and we both smile before she waves, pushes the door open, and walks inside. A cloud dims the sunlight and I swear it’s because of Kimberly leaving.
Chapter 6
Kimberly
As soon as I walk through the door, I turn around and watch Bode back out of the parking spot and drive away. My insides are still tingling. That is one ruggedly handsome man. His biceps are the things dreamy orgasms are made of. He’s nice too. Mostly.
Turning around, I stare at what’s before me. The Stop N Shop is like walking into another era. A set reproduction couldn’t have been any more authentic. The floors are a red and white vinyl tile laid in a checkerboard pattern. The original floor, if I had to guess, probably from the early 1950s.
A total of five aisles are neatly stacked three tiers high with dry goods, and on the left side of the store is a candy counter the Beave would have appreciated. There’s no option but to head that way first. I take my time walking the length of the counter, drooling over all the different offerings. Some I had when I was young and some I’d only seen in movies. Caramel Creams wrapped in their clear and red twisty packaging made my mouth water.
Candy was never allowed in our house, so any treats had to be pilfered from friends. Caramel Creams were always my favorite. I stop in front of little wax bottles filled with brightly colored liquids. I have no clue what they are. I gasp! Oh, my gosh. Necco wafers. My nana always had a stash of them in her bedside table. She’d let me sneak a few each day of my visit. I miss my nana.
Going All Inn (Faire Island Bride Series Book 1) Page 4
