“Tess is your sister? Haley’s mom?”
“Tessa, yeah.”
“Your dad’s not around, either?”
“Ah, nope. He died in a car accident when I was ten.”
“Wow.” Something in the small catch in her voice makes me glance up from what I’m doing. Her lips are curved down in the corners, frown lines creasing her forehead. “So you’re all alone.”
Something in the tone of her voice makes me pause. I clear my throat before I say, “No, I’m not. I have Tess and Haley. They mean the world to me. Things didn’t work out how I thought they would, but we’re doing okay.”
winter
Doing okay.
From where I’m sitting, looking in, he seems like he’s doing a hell of a lot better than okay. He got into one of the best art schools in the country, so I know his grades are above average, and he doesn’t slack off. His house is well kept, big, and in a neighborhood I would kill to even just live next to.
He’s like me in so many ways—navigating his life completely without parental guidance—yet so utterly different in others. In all the ways that matter. Above all, he has it together. What will it take before I feel like I’m doing anything other than floundering, barely treading water?
I study him as he focuses on dinner, his brow creased in concentration, lips a tight line. He’s so confident. So sure of himself and his abilities.
I’m just trying to get by.
“Hey, where’d you go?”
His voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I refocus on his eyes. “Nowhere. Just thinking.” Not wanting to get into all my insecurities, I say, “Your sister and niece live here, too?”
“Yeah, just made sense for us after my mom died. Plus it’s easier for me to help while Tessa works . . . Shuffle Haley to preschool or dance or whatever. And to look out for them.”
“You do that a lot, huh?”
“What’s that?”
“Look out for people.”
He smiles, keeping his focus on the block of cheese he’s grating. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
I think about how different my life would’ve been if I had someone looking out for me as well as he looks after his sister and niece. If I had someone who cared about me, about my life, where would I be now? Thousands of miles away from where I grew up, just so I could put as much distance between me and that time as possible? Or would I have stayed there, not trying with every ounce of myself to run from everything I knew?
Would I be happy?
It’s too much to think about now, on top of everything else he seems to bring out in me. I take a drink of the wine he poured, willing it to relax me, make my thoughts muddled so I stop thinking so much.
“When is this fancy dinner going to be ready? I’m starved.”
“Soon.” He reaches into the oven and pulls out the pan, the scents of everything he’s making hitting me at once. “The meat just needs to rest for a bit. I’ll get the asparagus going. Can you last ten minutes?”
“I don’t think I’ll wilt away.”
He removes the steak and places it on a platter, then uses that pan for the asparagus. I’m mesmerized by his sure movements, his confidence and ease when in this environment. He commands the kitchen when he’s in it. I can’t imagine how hot he must look with his chef’s coat on, eyes focused, face flushed from the heat of the kitchen.
His sleeves are rolled up, the muscles in his forearms flexing under the designs inked there. I never really gave much thought to male chefs, but there is something delicious about this giant of a man—imposing and dark and looming, complete with tattoos and a piercing—with an apron tied around his waist as he prepares me dinner.
I must zone out for longer than I intend, because suddenly a plate is in front of me, the biggest meal I’ve eaten in years displayed in the center like a piece of art.
“Since you’re already settled, I figured we could just eat in here instead of the dining room, if that’s okay. And I didn’t even ask if you were a vegetarian. You like steak, don’t you? And asparagus?”
“In here’s fine, not a vegetarian, and yes.” I offer him a small smile.
“Thank God. I’m clearly new to this whole impress-a-girl-by-cooking-for-her thing.”
“You mean this isn’t in your usual repertoire?”
He laughs, shaking his head as he sets his plate next to mine. Reaching out, he grabs my wineglass and refills it with the bottle he uncorked a while ago. “You are the first.”
“Really.”
“Hard to believe?”
“Yeah, a little. Don’t guys usually use whatever arsenal they have in their possession to get girls?”
He opens his mouth to say something, then drops his eyes to his lap, shaking his head, lips lifted at the corner. “Anything I say here will undoubtedly make me sound like a pig, so I plead the Fifth.”
I smile as he takes his seat perpendicular to me. The scents coming from my plate accost my senses, and I look down again, my mouth watering. “Wow. I had no idea this was what I was getting tonight, or I might have agreed to this a long time ago.”
“Next time I’ll print you a menu when I ask, maybe add some pictures. And you should probably taste it before you start spewing things like, ‘Wow.’”
“You’re right. I mean, it doesn’t look or smell very good . . .” I crinkle my noise in mock disgust, trying not to laugh at the look he gives me.
With narrowed eyes, he says, “Careful. Insulting my cooking is worse than challenging my manhood.”
I laugh. “I don’t think anyone would be stupid enough to insult your manhood.” I grab my fork and ask, “So what is this exactly?”
“Marinated hanger steak topped with butter and shaved blue cheese, with a side of grilled asparagus.”
I stare at him for a minute, mouth dropped. “Wow, even your description is elaborate. I seriously don’t think I’ve eaten anything this fancy in my entire life.” I cut into the steak, making sure to get some of blue cheese and butter with it, as well.
He smiles but his focus is on my mouth, on the bite that’s an inch from my lips. I don’t want to tell him my normal menu consists of ramen noodles and boxed macaroni and cheese, so whatever he made will no doubt be a million times better than what I’m used to. As soon as I slide the first bite in my mouth, I know it wouldn’t have mattered what my standard fare is. The flavors burst on my tongue. It’s incredible. “Oh my God.”
“Good ‘oh my God’ or ‘oh my God, how could you feed me this shit’?” he asks with raised eyebrows.
I roll my eyes, saying around another forkful of food, “I’m sure people tell you how awful your food is all the time.”
Laughing, he shrugs, spearing his own bite. After swallowing, he says, “Every time I cook, it’s me on that plate, you know? It’s always nice to hear if someone likes what I’ve made for them.”
I meet his eyes, and he’s absolutely sincere, not fishing for compliments but waiting for my approval. And I can’t believe I see nervousness written all over his face, but it’s there. Seeing it eases whatever worries were lingering even with the alcohol doing its job. “It’s amazing. Seriously.”
With a tip of his head in my direction, he spears another bite. “You never said what you’re going to school for. I know you’re not in culinary school.”
“How do you know that?”
He meets my eyes, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “Believe me, Winter. If you were there, I definitely would’ve noticed.”
I don’t know what to do with myself when he says things like that. Part of me wants to run, to escape because things are getting too close, too comfortable, too intimate, and I don’t do close or comfortable or intimate. I do quick and anonymous and thoughtless. I do not do butterflies and anticipation and hope.
Clearing my throat, I spear a piece of asparagus. “I’m in web design and interactive media.”
“Wow. Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know . . . It just seems more technical than I thought you’d be. I mean, I know jack-shit about web design, so I guess it could be fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants and I wouldn’t know any different. You just seem uninhibited. You do what you want, speak your mind. Doesn’t fit my perception of a web designer, I guess.” He shrugs. “You seem . . . free.”
I suck in a breath. I don’t feel free. I feel trapped, suffocated under the piles of baggage I’ve had strapped on my back for so long, it feels like they’ve melded to my very soul. I’d give anything for a moment of peace. To be able to breathe.
“Do you want more?” He points at my plate, and I glance down, realizing the only way I could’ve gotten it any cleaner would’ve been if I had picked it up and licked it. Which I actually contemplated.
“Oh, no, thank you. It was delicious, but I’m so full.”
“I hope not too full for dessert.”
“Dessert, too?”
“Nothing fancy, just cookies. My mom’s recipe, actually. It was the first thing she taught me to make. I can’t bake worth shit, normally, but these I’ve perfected.”
I smile. For some reason, that brings a warmth to my chest, that he’d want to share that with me. He’s so open, so transparent, and I feel like I’m hiding every ounce of myself behind walls too thick to be infiltrated.
But as he looks at me, smiling, his eyes dropping to my lips for the briefest moment, my heart stutters and trips, my stomach doing back flips, and I wonder.
Will he be the one to finally get through?
TEN
cade
Winter helps me clean up, even though I tell her she doesn’t have to. She pulled back into her shell right after dinner, and I’m not sure what I said to make her take a step back. I want to ask her, but I also don’t want to force her further away. I don’t know what it is about this particular girl, but she makes me want to know more about her. She makes me want to know everything.
The back door bangs open, then, “Uncle Cade!” My sister calls for Haley, the door slamming shut behind them, but my niece pays no attention. She tears into the kitchen, completely ignoring Winter, as she crashes into the back of my legs, wrapping her arms around my thighs as far as she can.
“Hey, short stuff. How was school and your play date?”
“Good. Smells yummy. What’d ya make me?”
I dry my hands on the towel and turn, bending to grab her and throw her into the air before I hold her at my side. With my other hand, I tickle her stomach. “You’re hungry? I thought you already ate dinner. Where do you put all that food?”
Her giggles turn to gasps as she twists and squirms on my arm until I relent. With a deep sigh and a couple leftover chuckles, she wraps an arm around my neck, then notices Winter standing against the island, watching us.
“What’s your name?” Haley asks, her head tipped to the side.
Winter smiles, offering a small wave. “I’m Winter.”
“Really?” Haley’s face brightens, her eyes wide. “I love winter! It’s my favorite. I do snow angels and make snowmens and go sledding. Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Like that stuff?”
“Um . . . I’m not sure. I guess I’ve never tried.”
“Never?”
“Nope.” Winter shakes her head. “They didn’t have snow where I grew up.”
Haley’s eyes go wide, like it’s the worst thing she can imagine. “That’s awful.”
A breathless laugh escapes Winter, and I smile at the sound. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Ignoring Winter again, Haley turns to me, hands on my cheeks until she’s turned my head to face her. “Mama says I have to leave you alone ’cause of your date, but I really, really, really, really, really want you to read our story tonight. Will you, will you, please?” She leans closer with every word until she presses her nose to mine, her eyes wide as she stares at me.
I shift my focus to the side, trying to get a read on Winter, but Haley just moves her head until she’s once again filling up my entire line of sight. A soft laugh comes from the corner of the kitchen.
“It’s fine, Cade. Go read to the poor girl.”
I try to catch her eye only to be intercepted by Haley’s head once again, so I lift her, flipping her over my shoulder and gripping her by the backs of her legs, her little fists pounding into my lower back as she laughs. Winter’s watching us with a wistful expression on her face. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
“Okay. I shouldn’t be too long. I’ll take you home after.”
She nods and I carry a squealing Haley down the hall, meeting Tessa just as she’s coming out of her room.
“Hey. Sorry, I had to change. Little Miss Ants in Her Pants dumped juice all down the front of me at dinner. How’s it going?” She tips her head in the direction of the kitchen.
“Good. I think. No, it’s going good. She’s laughing. So that’s a plus, right?”
“Definitely. Unless she’s laughing at you . . .”
“Funny.”
Before she can respond, Haley interrupts, her fingers jabbing into my lower back. “Hurry up, Uncle Cade!”
“I’m going to read to her for a bit before bed. Winter’s in the kitchen.” I narrow my eyes at my sister, pointing a finger at her. “Do not embarrass me.”
“Oh, please. Me?” She flutters her eyelashes and offers an innocent smile I know is nothing more than an act.
“I’m serious. Remember all the dirt I have on you,” I call out to her retreating figure. Her laughter drifts back to me, even as she rounds the corner into the kitchen. I hear her greet Winter, and all I can do is hope she shows an ounce of restraint.
winter
Cade’s sister isn’t what I expected. Where he’s dark and imposing, this giant of a man with a cloud of “don’t fuck with me” constantly surrounding him until you get to know him, his sister is nearly the opposite. She’s shorter than me, which is saying something, her smile vibrant as she introduces herself and pulls up a stool next to me.
“What’d he make you?” Her elbow is on the table, chin resting in her hand as she focuses on me.
“Um . . . I can’t remember what it’s called. It was sliced steak with butter on it. And some asparagus.”
“Mmm . . . one of his specialties. I’m not surprised. Cade doesn’t bother if he can’t hit it out of the park.”
I think about what I’ve come to know about him. How he throws everything he has into whatever he’s doing, giving it his sole attention. Giving me his sole attention. “I’m learning that.”
“Don’t let that hard exterior fool you, though. He’s soft as a marshmallow inside. He plays tea party with Haley . . . even lets her wrap him up in feather boas and put those ridiculous hats on him. If the tutus would fit him, she could probably talk him into wearing one of those, too.”
The image of him in a pink feather boa and tutu is too much, and with the wine making me mellow and relaxed, the laugh flows from me without restraint. Tessa nods her head and smiles, like she’s reading my mind.
“He really is a great guy. Dependable and loyal. And I’m not just saying that because I’m his sister, though I’ve definitely seen it more than anyone. When I found out I was pregnant with Haley, it was only a month after our mom passed away.” She shakes her head, a sad smile on her lips as she stares where her finger is tracing an invisible circle on the counter. “I was such a bitch, acting out however I could. And I knew Nick—Haley’s dad—got under Cade’s skin, so of course I kept seeing him, even though he was a player and an asshole. I was only seventeen and so goddamn stubborn.”
She glances behind her down the hallway, then turns her attention back to me, her words coming quickly, like she wants to get everything out before Cade comes back in. “But even when I told him, he didn’t get pissed, didn’t lecture me. Didn’t say I told you so when Nick bailed. Just asked what he needed to do. He went with me to every doctor’s appointme
nt. Lamaze and breast-feeding workshops . . . I mean, can you imagine him sitting in on those classes?”
I shake my head, but not only because of the image of him at any of those things, but the thought that there are people—families—who care enough about each other to do that. To help out and support one another. To stand by them when they need it.
“I know, without a doubt, I couldn’t have gotten through it without him.”
Haley’s muffled voice calls for her, and she smiles and stands. “It was nice to meet you, Winter. Hopefully we’ll see you around here again.”
I’m not sure what to say—whether to confirm or deny she will, because, honestly, I don’t know myself—so I don’t say anything, instead just offer a tight-lipped smile.
She turns to go, then stops, looking back at me. “Guys like him don’t come around often, Winter. I’d give anything to find someone as strong and caring and loyal as him. I know he can be a little much sometimes, but just . . . give him a chance before you write him off.”
Her words penetrate my defenses, seeping in until they’re all I can hear, playing on a loop in my mind. I stare at the leftover dishes from our dinner, at how welcoming everything was here tonight, at being included in something, and how terrifying that is. This whole night, everything, is too much. He’s getting in, and though I’ve tried everything I know of to stop it, thrown up another layer of bricks, he’s still chiseling away at them. The problem is, I don’t know whether or not I want him to.
The flutter in my stomach as he comes down the hall, smiling at me before he grabs our coats tells me I do.
I do.
cade
I wonder if she realizes I’ve taken the long way to get to her apartment. Even though it’s April, that doesn’t mean shit in Michigan, and it’s cold out this time of night, the wind bitter against me. My coat and gloves don’t even keep the chill out, but I don’t care. Winter’s body hugs mine, her breasts pressed flush to my back, her legs against the outside of my thighs. I slipped Winter’s hands under my coat before we left so she’d stay warmer. And I won’t deny the appeal of her touching me with a few less layers between us.
Caged in Winter Page 7
