by Seana Kelly
“I didn’t mean to scare you. Like I said, looking for coffee.” I watched her open the pantry door to fill Chaucer’s bowls.
“No coffee. Sorry. I have some lovely tap water I can offer you, though.” She reached up for a glass from a cupboard and handed it to me.
I accepted it, but then replaced it on the shelf where she’d taken it. “Actually, you do have coffee. I brought it last night.”
Her brow furrowed. “Last—oh! I have food! Holy crap, how did I forget that?” She opened the fridge and clapped in delight. “So long, peanut butter! I’m dumping your ass.” She took out a bottle of orange juice and placed it on the counter, before retrieving that same glass again. She looked me up and down, the fear gone. “Can I interest you in the delicious and refreshing juice of an orange?”
“As I don’t see a coffeemaker in your kitchen, I’ll gladly settle for juice.”
She filled the glass in her hand and passed it to me, before reaching for another. Once she’d poured herself one, she stared at it for a moment, took a sip and closed her eyes in appreciation.
“Why do I feel like you’ve been in solitary confinement for ten years? Orange juice shouldn’t be this big of a deal.” I watched her slowly savor her drink, a corner of her mouth quirking up.
When she finished, she went to the sink and bodychecked me out of her way. I smiled, pleased she felt comfortable pushing me aside. She rinsed out her glass and then reached for mine.
“Solitary confinement.” She smiled. “I like that description.”
“It’s just orange juice.”
“Nothing is ever just. Yesterday, I didn’t have orange juice. Today, I do. I’m grateful.”
She smiled up at me and my chest hurt.
“Wait a minute. Why did you bring me groceries?”
I fought the urge to kiss her furrowed brow. “There’s leftover pizza, too. And cereal in the pantry. There’s also bacon and eggs in the fridge. What would you like for breakfast?”
She studied me for a moment and then grinned. “I’m choosing to be thankful and not suspicious. Bacon and eggs sounds amazing.” She waved me away. “You sit. I’ll cook.”
“Deal.” I sat at her table and watched her work. I should have been driving home to shower and change, but I stayed. Being with her settled something inside me.
Her phone rang. She looked at it warily, let it ring again and then straightened, walked across the kitchen and picked it up. “Hello?”
Her body relaxed. She leaned on the counter and chatted, answering questions. Whoever she was talking to, it wasn’t the caller she was worried about.
“Um, he never told—oh! Try Tesla. See if that works. His passwords used to always be cars. I remember him saying that when we were dating. He’s green with envy that another broker recently purchased a new Tesla.” She rolled her eyes at whatever was said. “Yeah, he said his preliminary estimate is one and a half million.” She paused. “What about our house there? Is there an estimate on it?” Her face hardened as she listened. “When did he do it? Conveniently timed, the rat bastard. Oh, check his mom’s accounts. He’s hidden money there before. He has power of attorney for her. Can they do that, follow the money?” She laughed. “Finally, being an asshole will bite him in the butt. Yeah, let me know. Okay. Thanks.” She hung up.
“What was that?”
She hopped up on the counter. “Justin, my ex, is claiming that he mortgaged the house and lost all the money in a bad gambling decision. Of course, he didn’t take out that loan until the day I left him. I don’t know. My lawyer has auditors working on it. She says there’s an account in my name that I have no knowledge of. I gave her a possible password to access it. He never told me any of this stuff directly, but I’ve picked up bits and pieces over the years. His mom is in a retirement community, and I know he’s shuffled funds into her account in the past to avoid taxes or penalties or whatever. He’s probably doing it again.”
She hopped down and went back to making breakfast. “This is his area of expertise, money management. I hope her auditors are good.”
Tapping the table, I tried to talk myself out of getting involved. “I know a guy. Reformed computer hacker. I worked with him a few times. Good guy. I can call him to see if he’d help.”
“Why would he? For that matter, why would you?” She genuinely seemed befuddled by my kindness.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Watching the play of emotion on her face, I realized that I could get used to this. Very easily and very happily.
She went back to cooking, but kept glancing at me over her shoulder. “Last time I checked,” she said to the frying pan, “you didn’t like me. You keep kissing me, so you must at least be attracted, but you don’t like me. So, why the food and the help?”
“I like you just fine. Quite a bit, actually.”
She turned back to me. “Yeah?”
Nodding, I watched her lips part and her cheeks blaze.
She spun back around. “Oh.”
Before I left Katie’s place a little while later, my stomach full, I copied down her lawyer’s number. I called Brian, the reformed hacker, as I drove home to shower and get ready for work. Brian’s dad had screwed over his mom when he was little. I was sure he’d be more than happy to catch another man trying to cheat his wife. These kinds of cases rarely took him more than a couple of hours.
It’s funny. As a society, we think our financial information is so secure, but all it takes is a computer genius like Brian and our lives are open for dissection.
After a quick chat, Brian promised to contact Katie’s lawyer with what he found.
Feeling as though I was finally doing something positive, after a year of being a grumpy bastard, I got ready for work. Maybe I’d get a hot dog for lunch today.
Kate
BRIAN WAS A GENIUS! He sent my lawyer an email with all Justin’s financial info, all his secret accounts and illegal deals. Apparently, it only took Brian one afternoon to find everything. Once Jean had that, Justin buckled like wet cardboard. Nary a week later, Gran’s house was mine, and I had money in a bank account. All the legal stuff would still take time to go through, but agreements were made and funds were transferred. I was feeling positively optimistic!
I had my feet under me with the food truck. Customers were coming back and bringing friends. Aiden had been stopping by the truck every afternoon for lunch. I teased him about his questionable dietary habits, but a thrill raced through me every time I looked up and found him waiting for me.
Now that I had some money, I needed a bed, maybe a dresser. A phone! Another pair of jeans. The list spiraled out of control in my head. It was too much.
One thing at a time. I wanted a bed. I needed to focus on that one room. Bed, dresser, curtains, dog bed. Paint! Yes, I could paint the room any color I wanted. Once that was decided, I spent the afternoon daydreaming about beds and wall colors while I cooked and served hot dogs. It made for a lovely diversion.
“I’ll take a dog.”
I glanced up at the gravelly voice. Mr. Cavanaugh.
“Please,” he added.
My hands trembled as I rolled a dog onto the grill. “Of course. What would you like on it?” It was the first time I’d seen him since he told me I was nothing and that he’d do a jig when I lost Gran’s house. My stomach twisted.
“Katie, well, I want to say I’m sorry about pushing you like that.”
I met his defiant eyes.
“I’ve never laid an angry hand on a woman in my life. I’m ashamed my temper got away from me.” He blew out a breath. “I never should have said all those horrible things. They weren’t true.” He pulled on his earlobe. “I think I just wanted you to hurt as much as I did. If Nellie were here, she’d kick my behind for it. You’re a good girl, and you deserve better than the hand you’ve been dealt. I’ve got n
o excuses. I was wrong, and I hope you see fit to forgive me in time.”
Vision blurry, I tried to blink away the tears clinging to my lashes. He didn’t hate me, didn’t think I was rubbish.
“Oh, now, please don’t cry.” His voice shook. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded, my throat constricted.
“What the hell, Pops? You said you were going to apologize.”
At Aiden’s voice, I jumped, quickly wiping at my face. The tears wouldn’t stop, though. I crouched below the counter. I didn’t want them to see me lose it.
The truck tilted, and then Aiden was there, pulling me up and crushing me in his arms. I pulled up my hoodie so I could hide.
He chuckled and ran one hand over my head; the other held me firmly against his chest. “We can still see you.”
“He doesn’t hate me.”
“What did she say?” Mr. Cavanaugh asked.
“She said you don’t hate her.” Aiden held me closer, rubbing his hands up and down my back.
Sputtering, Mr. Cavanaugh finally said, “Well, of course I don’t! I never... I didn’t, Katie. I was an ass. I was missing my Nellie and taking it out on you. Please, don’t cry.”
I nodded my head against Aiden’s chest, but the tears continued to flow.
“Okay. I’ve got you. Pops, can you get that?” The truck went dark. “Shh. Katie. You’re killing me.”
I tried to push away, to get my emotions under control, but Aiden held firm. I wiped at the tears again. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”
Aiden brought his hands up, capturing my face, tipping it back so he could look at me. He kissed my eyelids. “You’ve been holding that in for weeks, probably longer. You’ve been terrorized by giant rodents, harassed and cheated by your husband—”
“Ex.”
“Thank goodness for that.” I smiled. “You’ve been yelled at by a deranged, sauerkraut-loving tourist. You’ve been insulted and pushed by your gran’s boyfriend. You’ve had no money. No food. You’ve been working in this truck, employed by a loudmouth drunk. You had your cupcakes stolen by a dog. And let’s not forget interrogated and almost arrested.”
“When you put it that way.” I gasped a laugh.
“That’s better. I wouldn’t want you to be crying when I...” His mouth took mine, a soft, seductive possession. He pushed down my hood and plunged his hands into my hair, tilting my head, deepening the kiss.
My body went up in flames. I made soft, mewling sounds, as I got on my tiptoes, trying to get closer, wanting more. His hand dragged down my back, landing on my butt. He groaned, kneading me and pulling me closer.
He reached farther down, grabbed the backs of my thighs and picked me up. He plopped me down on the counter, my legs wrapped around his hips. He leaned in, his erection rubbing just right. I gasped. His lips were on my neck. I shivered at the heat of his breath and the scratch of his stubble. His tongue teased sensitive skin, and my head fell back on a moan. His lips traveled down my throat, while his hands clutched my butt, setting a rhythm with his hip thrusts. I’d never wanted to be naked more in my entire life.
A loud bang sounded on the side of the truck. “Hey! Why is the window closed? It’s still lunchtime!”
I collapsed back, panting and frustrated. Aiden leaned over me, breathing heavily.
“I’m gonna kill Chuck,” he said under his breath.
“I told you. She was upset. Leave her alone. She’ll open again when she’s ready.” Mr. Cavanaugh’s gravelly voice tried to reason with my boss.
“The truck was rocking. That doesn’t say crying to me.”
“Oh, well.” Poor, Mr. Cavanaugh. He sounded flustered as he uttered those two simple words.
“I’m okay now,” I shouted. “I’ll open in just a second.”
Aiden bit my neck. “I’m not okay. I may not be able to walk properly for the rest of the day,” he whispered.
I pushed him so I could stand up. I grabbed my pole and shoved the side panel up. The truck was flooded with light.
“I could have used another minute over here,” Aiden grumbled.
“Had to be done,” I said, pushing him toward the front of the truck. “I’m trying to work. Go arrest people.”
“This conversation is not over.”
My body thrilled at his words.
When I looked out the window, Chuck was glaring, and Mr. Cavanaugh looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cavanaugh. I burned your dog. I’ll make you another one.”
“What?” Chuck’s face was getting red.
“It’ll be my hot dog. I’m not giving anything away, don’t worry.” I tossed the burned dog in the trash and rolled another one out onto the grill.
“No. You’re going to eat. Chuck, stop being an asshole,” Aiden said and walked around behind Chuck, looking remarkably normal and relaxed. Whereas I felt like I had I was just getting some tattooed on my forehead. “She’s working harder and selling more dogs than you ever have in the off months. Stop yelling at her.”
“She’s my employee. I’ll treat her any way I want,” Chuck sneered.
Aiden leaned in and took a sniff. “It’s one o’clock. You’re drunk at one o’clock?”
“That’s none of your concern! I don’t answer to you.” He turned to me. “You’re fired! I don’t need this shit.”
I stood stunned. I needed this job. It was literally the only job available in Bar Harbor during the off months. “I’m sorry, sir. He didn’t mean anything. I can pay for Mr. Cavanaugh’s lunch.” I shoved my hand in my hoodie pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill. “See? I’ll pay for it.”
“I said get out!”
“Chuck, don’t take it out on her because you’re pissed at me.”
I turned off the grill, picked up my water bottle and scanned the truck. Nothing here was mine. I pulled the key from my pocket, climbed out of the truck and handed it back to Chuck. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
Aiden’s grumble echoed in my head.
I walked numbly toward my car. What was I going to do?
“Katie, wait.” Aiden grabbed my arm. “Please, wait. Let Pops and I take you to lunch. We’ll figure something out.”
I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.” Mr. Cavanaugh looked so concerned, I kissed his cheek. “Thank you for coming to see me, for saying what you did. It means the world to me.”
“Katie, I know I’ve behaved horribly, but Nellie—no, it’s not just Nellie. It’s me. I want to be a part of your life, if I can. I want you to think of me like family. I know Nellie would have wanted that.”
Family. It had been so long. My grandfather had died when I was little. Dad when I was fifteen, and Mom hadn’t been the same afterward. She’d been more of an absentminded roommate than a mom. It had been Justin for ten years, and now not even him. I hugged Mr. Cavanaugh tightly and nodded. I had to get out of here before I broke down again. Waving to both men, I turned and walked to my car. Chaucer and I needed to put our heads together. I’d really been looking forward to sleeping in a bed. Damn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Aiden
“COME ON, POPS. I’ll buy you lunch, and we’ll try to figure out how to fix what I just screwed up.” I got her fired. She’d finally received some good news. The house was hers. And I went and got her fired.
“Wait until Chuck sobers up. He’ll probably forget he did it.” Pops pointed at a sandwich shop.
I veered for the door and held it open. “There’s got to be a better place for her to work, anyway. The truck is freezing in the winter, and she has to deal with crazy customers daily.” We sat at a table in the back. “Any place looking for a cook?”
Pops sank into his chair. “I can ask around. I feel like we’re
nothing but bad luck for that girl.”
Propping my elbows on the table, I nodded my agreement. “She needs a job. She needs furniture. Walls need paint.” I scrubbed my hands down my face. “Mo. Does she need help in her shop?”
Pops shook his head. “Nobody’s hiring at this time of year.”
“Crap.” I stood to order our food. “Do you want your usual?”
Pops nodded, looking as dejected as I felt. We spent an hour brainstorming, texting friends, making phone calls. By the time I drove Pops home, we had a plan for one problem.
* * *
I PULLED UP to Katie’s place at about six, my truck bed piled high with furniture. Chaucer came bounding down the stairs, while Katie stood in the doorway, watching. I hopped out and waved at the back of the truck.
“I come bearing gifts from yon Cavanaugh.” I cricked my finger in invitation.
Descending slowly, she said, “What is all this?” She walked around the truck to stand beside me.
I breathed a sigh of relief. She was still talking to me. “My grandma redecorated twenty years ago. She and Pops put the extra furniture in the attic and the basement. Pops and I went through all of it this afternoon, picked the best pieces and polished them up.”
I watched her looking at the dark wood dressers and tables, bed frames and chairs.
“These might not be your taste, but it’ll give you someplace to sit or sleep until you can replace them with pieces you like.”
Her smile could fuel a power plant.
“Really?” Her eyes twinkled.
It wasn’t fair. How could anyone say no to her? When her smile dimmed, all I could think about was how to get it back. Shit. I was whipped.
“But, this should all go to you or your sister or your brother. Not me.” She bit her lip, and my body twitched in response.
“None of us need furniture. Hell, I live in a tiny apartment downtown. Mo’s house is fully furnished.” I gestured to the ornate dark wood. “This isn’t her style, anyway.”
