by Brent, Cora
I jerked my head to the empty chair. “I told you I saved you a seat.”
She looked at the chair. “Why? Did you Scotch tape a tack to it?”
“No.” I was insulted. Sure, I’d been guilty of carrying out a few mild pranks here and there but none of them involved bodily injury. I wasn’t a sociopath for fuck’s sake. “I thought I’d rescue you. That guy looked like he couldn’t take a hint.”
Katrina sat down but only after she inspected the surface of the chair. “He’s definitely getting on my nerves.”
“I didn’t see your mom today. I know Gemma invited her.”
She made a face. “My mother’s at an urban farming convention in the Finger Lakes with some new and temporary boyfriend. Pasquale is with his father in New York. I know there’s someone coming by to take care of all the animals but your grandmother said I could stay here. I don’t like sleeping in that stone house alone. I feel like the Quaker ghosts are watching me.”
“You’re staying here tonight?” A grin spread across my face.
Oh, the possibilities.
“Yeah. In Gem’s room. She obviously won’t be here because she’ll be in the throes of honeymoon bliss with Russell.”
I coughed. “Gross. I’m trying not to dwell on those details.”
“Fine. I won’t mention your big sister’s marital consummation if you agree not to replace my deodorant with cottage cheese while I’m staying at your house.”
“It was cream cheese.”
“Whatever.”
“I can promise no cream cheese. Why did my sister marry Russell?”
Katrina had been toying with a bite of her cake but now she looked at me with surprise. “She’s in love, Syler.”
I snorted.
Katrina sighed. “I realize the concept is alien to your hard little heart, but love is something the rest of us happen to want very badly.”
She was so damn transparent. During that prim little love speech her eyes strayed to Ryland. I half expected to see drool dripping right off her chin.
I snapped my fingers a few inches from her face and she swiveled back, annoyed, expecting me to push her buttons some more just for the pure hell of it.
And there was the dilemma.
I wanted Katrina to like me. I liked her. More than I’d ever liked any girl. And I would never have a shot at seeing what was underneath that pink dress if she hated my guts forever. But a more perverse part of me enjoyed pissing her off. That could be hot too. Maybe she’d always wanted to see what it was like to fuck someone she detested. I’d been around the block many times and all those high school backseat boner fests had grown boring. Sex with Katrina wouldn’t be boring. I was sure of it.
The song had changed and Katrina came to life, bouncing in her chair and singing along. She and my sister liked all this weird old music from our parents’ era and Katrina always thought she had a voice meant to screech out songs about living on a prayer or something about roses and thorns. She must have put in a DJ request to get him to play this one about cherry pie. I was not a fan.
“I heard you’ve given up on writing,” I said, partly to get her to stop singing.
She made a face at her plate as she dragged her fork through the cake icing. “I haven’t given up.”
“No? So you didn’t switch your major to broadcast journalism to please your father?”
She reddened. “Where did you hear that?”
“I heard you talking to my grandmother about switching your major. And I drew my own conclusions from there.”
“It’s none of your freaking business.”
“Of course it’s not. But if you’re too gutless to take a risk at age twenty, what does that say about your future?”
For once I wasn’t trying to be a know-it-all asshat. But I failed. Somehow, having a normal conversation with Katrina Feldman was an impossible feat.
She glared daggers at me. “Don’t concern yourself with my future, Syler. It won’t have anything to do with you.”
Ouch.
“Hey, Katrina,” I started to say, intending to make amends as she stood up.
“You never change,” she huffed and stalked off with her cake.
I wasn’t about to go chase her down and make a scene in the middle of a wedding reception. All I’d been trying to do was get her to consider taking a risk. The fun kind. With me. Instead I managed to injure her pride and drive her away.
Since hate sex seemed to be off the table, at least for today, I decided to spend some awkward quality time with my parents. Gale and Brian McKnight had traveled all the way from Greenland and couldn’t be counted on to stay in town for more than a couple of days. They’d missed my graduation in June and had been quietly standing on the fringes of their daughter’s wedding celebration and allowing my grandmother to handle everything, probably while calculating their earliest possible opportunity to escape back to Greenland.
My folks were bewildered by Gemma’s decision to drop out of school and marry young. This was a problem that no scientific logic could solve. Why would their brilliant only daughter choose small town life and dimwitted Russell over all the possibilities the world had to offer?
They looked to me for answers. I knew Gemma better than anyone else in the family. Surely I would have something to say that made sense.
“She’s in love,” I said, recalling Katrina’s words as I watched my sister dance in the arms of her new husband.
The answer did not satisfy them but there was nothing to be done at this point. Gemma had left school. Gemma had married Russell. Gemma would be staying in Maple Springs. Then they remembered that I would be starting MIT in just a few short weeks so they cheered up. At least I wouldn’t be falling in love and abandoning good judgment anytime soon.
The sun had already dipped below the horizon when Gemma and Russ departed for their honeymoon in Lake George. My sister hugged me tightly before stepping into Russ’s truck, which had been vulgarly decorated by his friends. Russ paused to shake my hand and I squeezed hard, enjoying the way he winced a little.
Everyone shrieked and waved as the couple pulled away. Katrina blew kisses at the car until it turned a corner and was out of sight. She wiped tears of joy out of her eyes. She sure was into this sappy romance shit.
There was a ton of cleanup to deal with so I had to forget about connecting with Katrina. Anyway, it was probably a dumb idea that we’d have a chance to hook up. A girl who always looks at you like you’re no better than a slug probably isn’t about to get naked for you under any circumstances.
There was a full house back at the old homestead. Katrina was staying in Gemma’s room. My parents chose to stay in my room. The third floor guest bedroom was being occupied by a great uncle who I’d only met twice in my life. Ryland was supposed to be staying in his old room, leaving me to crash on the parlor’s fold out sofa bed. But at the last minute Ry decided all this human activity was not to his liking and vacated the premises in favor of the more sedate Maple Springs Inn.
The hour was close to midnight and the house had grown quiet when my grandmother found me in the kitchen cleaning up the last of the mess that had been left behind during the wedding food preparations.
“Off to bed, young man,” she shooed me as if I were eight and not eighteen.
But sometimes it was nice to be mothered so I obeyed. Her health was not great and although she tried to be strong there was a certain sadness about her ever since my grandfather had a stroke in his sleep a year earlier. I kissed my grandmother’s papery cheek before heading to Ry’s old room in a back corner of the house. I’d brought along a slice of leftover wedding cake, intending to have a quick snack before passing out, but I was dead tired and set the cake on the nightstand. I shed my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor and collapsed on the bed.
I rolled to my back and must have fallen asleep immediately because the next thing I knew I was jolted awake by the telltale squeak of door hinges.
“Who’s that?” I
slurred into the darkness, my mind fuzzed with sleep and unsure if I was dreaming or not.
“Shh, it’s just me.” The bed springs groaned and I could feel the weight of another person beside me. “It’s Katrina.”
“Katrina?” My mind might have still been groggy but my dick was abruptly awake. Especially when a soft hand rested on my belly and began to slowly trail downward.
“I wasn’t sure I’d have the nerve to come here,” she whispered, her fingers pausing to pinch the waistband of my boxers, still hesitant, seeking approval.
I groaned and gave it to her, arching my hips until my cock rubbed against her palm. “I’m glad you did.”
“Really?”
I needed more. More of her hand. More of everything else. “Oh yeah.”
She stroked, exploring the hard length, inhaling sharply when I urged her on. “I want this so much.”
“Then take it.” My teeth were clenched and I could hardly talk but that didn’t stop me from shoving my boxers down. “Take anything you want, baby.”
Things were moving at such a rapid fire pace I wasn’t a hundred percent sure this was reality but the sudden sensation of a tongue tasting the head of my cock was fucking fantastic. And knowing that tongue belonged to Katrina sent me so close to the edge I was forced to bury my groans in a pillow or else risk waking the whole household.
This girl knew what she was doing with her mouth. She nipped and sucked up and down the shaft, her tongue lingering on the sensitive tip. Superhuman restraint on my part was required not to seize her head and shoot down her throat. Even in my half crazed state I knew that this needed to last. I was going to give Katrina Feldman the best night she’d ever had. Never again would she look at me like I was nothing but her best friend’s jerky little brother. None of those sophisticated Manhattan college guys would have a chance after I was finished corrupting the hell out of her.
“Wait,” I moaned, pulling back a little while I still had some control left.
Her lips were on my belly now as she kissed her way up to my chest. My hands found her hips and slid over the silky material of her nightie, pushing it aside with impatience until I was touching the bare skin of her creamy thighs. And bless her filthy little intentions, she wasn’t wearing panties.
This would be incredible. This would be fucking legendary. She bucked against my hand when my finger grazed her slippery center. She’d probably come in about two seconds if I hit the right spot.
“Oh god,” she whimpered, trying to ride my finger. “I need this, Ry. I want it so bad.”
Ry?
RY????
As in Ryland.
Not Sy.
As in Syler.
Cold logic set in.
Katrina thought she was about to have sex with my brother.
My brother!
MY FREAKING BROTHER!!!
Of course. This had once been Ryland’s room. She must not have heard he jumped ship to go stay at the inn.
I cleared my throat and hoped my head would also clear before I did something to be legitimately ashamed of. “Katrina.”
She fumbled in the darkness, trying to press a finger to my lips. “Don’t say anything, please. Let’s just have this for tonight.”
“There’s something-“
“I know, I know. We need a condom. I have one. Actually I have six of them. We have everything we need.”
“Seriously, I-“
“Just do it,” she pleaded. “Oh god, please let’s do it without saying anything else right now.”
Okay, I wouldn’t say anything.
But I had to do something.
My dick might never forgive me for this.
I might never forgive me for this.
Katrina definitely wouldn’t forgive me for this.
I reached over and switched on the bedside lamp.
She was a vision, straddling me with a silken pink nightgown pushed up to her hips, the left strap already sliding off her shoulder. I’d never seen anything so insanely sexy and no matter what happened next or whose dick she thought she’d really been sucking, the sight of Katrina all flushed with her black curls tousled and her clothes nearly gone would be on my mind until the end of time.
She opened her mouth and for a second I was sure she’d scream but she only blinked.
“You’re not Ryland,” she finally choked out.
“Nope,” I replied and casually linked my hands together behind my head, watching her as she processed this colossal error while my cock continued to throb against her bare thigh. “I’m not Ryland.”
She blinked again. “Fuck.”
8
The Wisdom of the World’s Oldest Chicken
Katrina
“Mom. Is that a squirrel?”
Annika beamed at the ball of fur that had skulked into the room. “That’s my baby, Gidget.”
“It’s a squirrel.”
“Yes, she’s a squirrel. It’s the strangest thing. I was meditating at the edge of Herker’s Woods when I felt something nudge my hand. I looked down and this tiny creature was staring up at me with the largest pleading eyes I’ve ever seen. What else could I do? I brought her home and fed her with a medicine dropper and she slept in a shoebox at my bedside. But once she was strong enough to return to the wild she decided she preferred to live here.”
“You actually have a pet squirrel.”
She was puzzled by my tone. “A squirrel can be a terrific pet as well as any other animal.”
I was pretty sure there were some compelling reasons why a squirrel didn’t make a terrific pet. Some of those reasons included plague and rabies. I saved my breath because those reasons wouldn’t impress Annika. I endured having my shoes sniffed by Gidget while I sipped the mug of hot tea my mother had given me a few minutes ago.
“This tea is really good,” I said, telling the truth.
My mother grew all her own herbs in a large greenhouse on the acreage. I managed to kill every houseplant I’d ever met but Annika had the ultimate green thumb. She grew more than she could ever use so she was generous. At least once a month I received a package filled with wilted herbs, most of which I couldn’t identify but stuck in a crystal vase anyway because they smelled nice. And she supplied a ton of her harvests to Gemma for use in the homemade jellies Gemma sold. She almost certainly would have given them to Gemma for nothing if Gemma didn’t absolutely insist on paying her.
Annika smiled at the praise and sipped from her own cup. “It’s ginger green tea with a touch of lavender.” Then her smile faded. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have moved Dustin to a different room.”
Dustin was the semi-naked painter. Around the time I settled down in the living room with my tea he’d disappeared, hopefully on a mission to cover his pubic hair. I’d learned a couple of things about Dustin already. He and my mother were not sleeping together. That detail was not asked for but was supplied anyway. And Dustin had two fiancés in Alaska. I wasn’t sure how that arrangement worked but I didn’t much care. He’d been artistically blocked since getting knocked over by a moose last year and had hoped the artist colony a few miles outside town would be the answer. My mother was one of the biggest financial patrons and she’d taken a nonsexual liking to Dustin. When he was kicked out for indecent exposure, her solution was to invite him to live in her house.
“Are you sure this Dustin guy is okay?” I asked her in a whisper, just in case he was lurking around a corner and listening. Annika had a long history of inviting unconventional houseguests to share her life and I’d long ago learned she could not be deterred, but I still worried over the idea of my vulnerable mother living here alone with a creepy Alaskan painter who skulked around in his underwear.
Her big blue eyes were surprised. “He’s lovely, Katrina. He reminds me of the prime minister.”
“What prime minister?”
“The one who stayed here for a month after the coup.”
“There was a coup?”
“Yes, he needed leave his country or face a firing squad.”
“I have no memory of that.”
“I think you were at college. But you should get to know Dustin. Perhaps he’ll want to paint you.”
“That’s okay. I don’t really want to be painted. Mom, I am sorry I didn’t call to let you know I’d be in town. It was a rather spontaneous trip. Gemma’s husband took off, leaving her and the kids. I took the first train out of Manhattan to be here for her.”
“Oh!” My mother’s expression turned to distress. To my knowledge she’d never had any cosmetic procedures, yet at age fifty-five her dewy skin would be the envy of someone thirty years younger. The fact that her un-dyed blonde hair had faded to white was the only hint of her age.
“Poor sweet Gemma,” Annika said and her eyes filled with genuine tears. “I heard what happened of course. Russell was never any good. Remember years ago when he crashed into my fence? He said he swerved and hit the fence because two of my chickens came out of nowhere and attacked his windshield. Ridiculous. And to run off with that Benoit person of all people. She would always try to be friendly but I never forgave her for what she did to you.”
I was surprised that my mother remembered that piece of my high school past. “Ophelia Benoit didn’t really do anything to me.”
Annika’s eyes were still tearful but now they flashed with rare anger. “She annihilated your dreams. The nerve of that woman, telling a young girl she has no talent.”
“I didn’t really give a damn what the Maple Springs High guidance counselor thought of my writing anyway.”
That wasn’t completely true. At the time my teenage ego suffered a serious blow when the perky Ms. Benoit called me to her office for a college counseling session, smiling her pretty smile as she shot daggers out of her lipsticked mouth and tapped her red heels against the side of her desk.
“Katrina, I’m concerned to hear you are still planning to major in creative writing. As one of the judges of the recent writing competition, where your entry did not even place, I feel like I owe it to you to steer you in a different direction.”
