Heart to Heart

by Meline Nadeau

  Edie slapped another pan onto a burner with more noise than necessary, added sugar and water and stirred vigorously over a high flame. “I don’t see Ms. B. complaining when she has to work ‘under’ you.”

  “Ha-ha.” He set out plates and forks. “All I’m saying is, not everything in life is black and white. Those cooked fast. Mine?” He smiled coaxingly.

  Trolls take that hopeful little dimple. She slid the cakes onto his plate. She’d barely poured the next two when he raised the plate, empty again. “More?”

  She wanted to keep up the wall of self-righteousness but he looked so cute. She not only flipped the next two cakes onto his plate, she splashed some hot, clear syrup from the other pan over them.

  He cut a big square of double-decker pancake, blew on it, and put it into this mouth. His eyes closed as he chewed appreciatively.

  At least this time he was chewing. Some deep part of her was strangely satisfied seeing him enjoy her cooking.

  A deep, insane part. “It comes down to money, Everett. Workers are paid low wages and risk getting fired, while management walks away with their golden parachutes and inviolate bonuses.”

  His eyes opened. “Do you have a specific example or are you just flinging random accusations?” He held out his empty plate.

  The ultimate male, handsome, arrogant, and boyishly appealing. All men should be drug out into the street and shot. Not really but it was annoying. And irresistible. She slid the next pair of cakes onto his plate. “Remember the wage cuts last year?” She scraped the last of the batter into the pan.

  “Ten percent — but across the board. That’s fair.”

  “Not really. What pared fat for the execs cut clerical to the bone. Then clerical wages were frozen so the people who needed it most never got it back.” She flipped the cakes.

  Everett swallowed and cast a longing look at the cakes in the pan. “They were eventually unfrozen.”

  “Stop with the puppy eyes.” Edie sighed and slipped one pancake onto his plate. “Problem was, you executives had a fifteen percent raise three months before the ten percent cut. Giving you an overall raise.”

  He stiffened. “We can’t help when the review structure places our raises.”

  Edie sat opposite Everett with her single pancake. “That sounds like Junior.”

  “Don’t call him Junior. Is that all you’re eating?”

  “He’s son of the chairman, isn’t he?” Edie dribbled the teaspoon of syrup left onto her pancake. “This is all that’s left. You ate the rest.”

  Everett dropped his fork with a clatter, his face going pale. “Edie, you should have said something. I’d never allow you to starve — ”

  “We’re a long way from starving, Everett.” She made short work of the cake. “And really, I’m having too much fun arguing with you.”

  “Fun?” The color washed back into his face and the dimple made a brief appearance. “Me too. And between us, I agree with your views on Junior.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Sarcasm again?” Everett rose to take his dishes to the sink. “Where’d you pick up your views, Uncle Jake?” He stoppered the sink and poured hot water from the kettle in.

  “My grandparents, mostly. But my management ideas?” She shrugged. “That’s Philip.”

  Everett turned from squirting dish soap. “Is Philip your dad?”

  “Like a father. Director of MIS at my first job. Big into office politics, workers’ rights.”

  “Sounds like a great guy.” Everett’s tone was strangely sour as he ran cold water into the sink.

  Edie shook her head, bringing her dishes to the sink. “He has his faults.”

  “Oh?” Everett raised a brow, a nonverbal “tell me more.” Maybe he was actually trying to understand her. Like a friend.

  A man as smart and powerful as Everett Kirk, caring enough to understand her? Wow. Like Philip. But this time she was without the misconception that it would last.

  “Remember, you asked. A woman at my first job was fired for getting pregnant.”

  Everett cranked off the water. “Just for getting pregnant?” His expression was dark with outrage.

  “By one of the company execs. The father wanted it to remain secret and she had the bad manners to threaten him with telling.” Edie watched Everett’s face. Now his indignity would turn against the unfortunate Aurora.

  “She had the guts to tell? Good for her.” He started washing. “They caught the guy?”

  She stared at him. No alien burst from his chest. “Well, no. She was hustled out before she could say a word. No one heard from her again, so I suppose they did something to keep her from talking.”

  “That’s illegal.” Everett scrubbed the plate so hard it nearly broke. “I’ve seen it happen though. No one does a thing.”

  “I did.”

  His silver-blue eyes glinted. “I just bet you did. Marched into your supervisor’s office, clue bat swinging?” He rinsed the plate and slid it into the strainer.

  “Sort of, except it was the company president and I wasn’t nearly so subtle. I said I’d report him.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Bad for me.” She snatched up a drying towel, plucked up the plate and scoured it dry. “I didn’t have any real plans for who to report him to. And … I kind of called him names, which got me fired too. I didn’t do anyone any real good. It was … I was … ” She hugged the plate to her chest. “It was dumb.”

  “Edie, you stood up for what you believed was right. That’s good in my book.” He gave her a quizzical look. “Someone told you that, didn’t they? That it was dumb.”

  How did he know? “Well … Yes.”

  “That Philip?”

  The sheer anger in Everett’s voice startled her. Anger, on her behalf? “Philip would have played it smarter.” She set the plate on the table and started on a plastic tumbler. “He’d have worked behind the scenes and made a real difference.”

  “That’s not necessarily smarter. This Philip sounds good in theory but squeamish doing the real work. At least you had the guts to act.”

  She looked into Everett’s eyes. The anger had melted into something warm, something like … admiration? She nearly fell into their glowing depths. “Everett … ”

  His eyes dropped to her lips, darkened.

  She leaned toward him.

  His head bent.

  Her eyes closed and … The tumbler slipped from her hands, hitting the floor with a sharp crack. Her eyes flew open.

  He jerked straight, cheeks ruddy. “Well. Those snares won’t lay themselves.” He tossed the washrag, swept on his coat and scarf, and left.

  The cabin was quiet. Edie picked up the tumbler and finished drying the dishes.

  He said she hadn’t been stupid. How amazing. He told her she had guts. Extraordinary.

  When the kitchen was in order, she sat in the front room and picked up a magazine, but didn’t read it. The quiet became empty instead of peaceful. Ten o’clock passed, eleven. Noon. Reluctantly, Edie admitted she missed Everett.

  Missing the corporate president. Now that was really stupid.

  So she went outside to chop wood.

  Chapter Seven

  To: ThePrez@serenityrangers.com

  From: ED@mythicmail.com

  Subject: Re: Friendship

  Dear Prez,

  I’m honored that you feel that way about me. I care about the people I work with, but can’t really bare my soul either, so I understand how it feels not to be able to talk over important things.

  How terrible, to be forced out of your job! Worse if you don’t know who’s doing it. Is there anyone you suspect?

  — ED

  Late that afternoon Everett returned. His ponytail was crusted with i
ce and his cheeks were burnt red. He never looked so handsome to Edie.

  “Where have you been all this time? Where did you go? How long does it take to lay out a few pieces of rope?” She fought to keep her voice level. Whack her with a laptop if he guessed that she’d missed him.

  She also kept her throbbing leg carefully out of his sight.

  “It takes,” he pulled his stiff coat cuff back with difficulty to look at his watch, “about six hours.”

  Forgetting herself, she limped forward. “Why so long?”

  Luckily he was turned, shedding his frozen outer garments, and didn’t see. “I couldn’t lay them too near the cabin. And I wanted to make sure there’d be game to trap. Mostly I was hunting spoor.”

  “You were looking for animal tracks? Did you find any?”

  “After tramping for three hours, yes.” He shot her a quick grin. “Seemed like I crossed the whole state. Really only a few miles but the snow slowed me.”

  “At least it’s stopped.” That grin blew her circuits. She forgot she was hiding her leg and limped to a kitchen chair.

  In two strides, Everett was at her side. “What the hell did you do to yourself?”

  She fell into the chair, surprised at his vehemence, and then crossed her leg to cover the rusty stain on her thigh. “Please don’t swear.”

  “What. Did. You. Do.”

  Was that concern blazing in his eyes? “Nothing. Hardly anything. Really, Everett.”

  “‘Nothing’ does not make you limp. Take off your pants.” He spun from her to stride to the sink.

  “Take off my … ? You may be my boss, Everett, but that doesn’t allow you every liberty.”

  He jerked on the water and briskly washed his hands. “Edith Ellen Rowan, if you can tell me with a straight face that red lake on your jeans is not blood, then fine. If, however, for any reason I am not convinced — ” He glared at her. “I will personally cut you out of them. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Really, Everett, there’s no need to become alarmed — ”

  “Take off the damned pants!”

  Red-faced, Edie slipped out of her jeans. Nearly had a seizure when she saw what Freudian imp had dressed her this morning. Bend her over and whack her repeatedly with that laptop — red silk bikini panties?

  Everett turned off the tap with his wrist. He was red-faced too, but the color on his high cheekbones might still be from the cold outside. Or the cold inside. The fire had burned out and the room’s temperature had dropped.

  He turned from the sink. Saw her. His eyes blazed with sudden ferocious heat.

  She might have whimpered. He might have throttled a gut-deep groan.

  He shook his head. Closing his eyes, he inhaled a bushel of air. Released it slowly.

  When he opened his eyes, the heat was banked. With a rueful smile he came to kneel next to her and his big body radiated all the fierce heat on her naked skin that he’d throttled from his eyes. She squirmed on the chair.

  His fingers were cool and gentle examining her, tenderly removing the half-dozen small sticky bandages she’d thrown on in an attempt at self-ministration. She forced herself to relax, not to react to his silky smooth touch on her thigh, his breath warming her flesh … Her red panties dampened. She clamped her thighs tight.

  “How did you get this?” he asked softly.

  The panties? No, he meant the wound. “We ran out of firewood. So I found an old ax around back — ”

  “I think I see where this is leading. No wonder the gash is so big. I’m surprised it didn’t bleed more.”

  She’d have to hide the towel.

  “Let’s get you clean.” He scooped her up.

  Her stomach swooped as suddenly, easily, she was six feet off the ground. Her arms wrapped tight around his neck. “I can walk, you know.” His silky hair feathered under her arm. Cool air brushed her panties. If he could smell her arousal like she could … She wanted to hide.

  “I wouldn’t survive seeing you walk in that sexy scrap of silk.” He settled her onto the kitchen counter top, her thigh over the sink. “Stay here.”

  She bit her lip. He wasn’t embarrassed for her? He was actually … interested? She did a quick survey of the room, but there weren’t any body-snatcher pods either.

  He started the kettle and went into the back hallway. A moment later, he returned with acetaminophen, a glass of water, several flat packages of gauze, and tape.

  He handed her the glass and the acetaminophen. “Take two.”

  “You’re taking this very well.” She swallowed the pills.

  “No reason to panic. You’ll need to have this sewn up by a doctor when we get back. Maybe a tetanus booster as well.”

  “Don’t panic, he says, in the same breath as ‘needle’ and ‘shot.’”

  “I didn’t say the words. Only implied them.”

  “Uh-huh. Then I only have implied panic setting in.”

  His lips quirked as he tested the kettle water. “Good. Warm but not too hot.”

  “Shouldn’t it boil?”

  “We boiled it this morning.” He poured the water over her thigh. It was soothing, until he added the soap.

  “Ouch! Hey, that hurts.”

  “The medical term is sting.” He swabbed on disinfectant.

  “Holy hard drives, that sucker stings.”

  “Sting is good. Means it’s getting clean.” He rinsed her thigh gently, patted it dry, and covered it with gauze squares.

  “Thank you, Nurse Kirk.” She smiled.

  He returned her smile. She fell into eyes as beautiful as a clear mountain stream … He bound the gauze with white tape.

  “Tight.” She wriggled. “Too tight.”

  “No, no, it’s called ‘pressure.’ But I’ll loosen it a bit.” He cut the tape and wrapped it again.

  The “pressure” receded. “More Serenity Rangers wisdom?”

  “My mother the nurse. She insisted I learn first aid.”

  “Mmm.” Warm and comfortable now, she felt cared for. Happy. “Thank you, Everett.”

  “I get a thanks and a beautiful smile? Play with sharp things as often as you like.”

  She drew herself straight. “Really, Everett, I wasn’t playing.”

  “I know.” He lifted her from the sink, making her stomach swoop again — really, he was immensely strong — and settled her on the couch, placing a blanket over her. “You were contributing to our well-being, and I appreciate it.”

  “Maybe I should say thank you more often.”

  “Nah. You’ll spoil me.” He sat beside her, caressed a finger over her cheek.

  Her eyes closed, her entire being concentrated on that sweet touch. Her body fired up, her lips started throbbing … The touch, his heat was gone. Her eyes opened.

  He was at the door, throwing on his coat. He’d grabbed the ax from where she’d hidden it behind the chair. “You’re right, we need more firewood. I’d better get chopping.” His voice was strained. “Save some of those bandages for me.”

  • • •

  The instant the door clicked shut she threw off the blanket and limped to the window. Though Everett appeared competent, he was still an executive, more used to commanding than doing. If she’d sliced her thigh, no telling what trouble he might get into with that ax.

  He disappeared into the woods.

  “Sweet pickled motherboards. What does that man think he’s doing?” She limped back and forth until her thigh ached. She sat down, but less than ten minutes later popped up again and scurried to the window.

  Everett was returning with a freshly cut tree.

  She pressed her face to the cold glass. He’d found a handsaw. He trimmed branches and sectioned the tree into several logs.

  He placed the first
log on the chopping block. Hefted the ax.

  Edie sucked in a breath. Said the only word that truly covered this situation. “Damnation!” She grabbed her coat to run out and stop him.

  Everett split the log with one clean chop. Edie froze, flabbergasted.

  Then Edward Everett Kirk, company president and CEO, started cleaving wood rhythmically as if he did it every day of his life. Pick up the log, swing the ax, split the log. Repeat. Edie hung up her jacket and settled in by the window to watch.

  He stopped after four logs to remove his coat. He was only wearing a T-shirt, idiot man, did he want to get sick … ?

  He hefted the ax. Edie’s breath imploded.

  Muscles sprang out of nowhere. The damp tee clung to the tops of his chest, the pinpoints of his nipples, the breadth of his shoulders. His back flared like a cobra as he swung the ax around and high overhead. Powerful shoulders brought the ax down, sinews in his forearms springing into relief as he completed the split.

  Edie stumbled away from the window, fell onto the couch. Panted shallow breaths.

  Even shallow breaths stopped when Everett shouldered the door open, carrying an armload of wood.

  Escaped strands of chestnut hair fell roguishly over forehead and cheek. His torso was thick with muscle. He looked like a woodland god striding into the cabin. She wanted to clasp his knees and pay homage to his … Spank her with a rack of panpipes. Hard. Repeatedly … she groaned.

  “What’s wrong?” He dumped his load by the wood burner, and then took one look at her leg and tutted. “You’ve been up.”

  “No. Maybe a little.” She flushed and it wasn’t embarrassment.

  “You’re not a very good liar.” After washing his hands, he returned to the couch with more gauze and tape and settled next to her. His weight dented the cushion. She slid into contact with him, the heat of his body inflaming her. As he repaired her bandaging, one errant chestnut lock fell across his intent, serious face.

  She reached up and brushed it back.

  He looked at her, eyes abnormally bright.

  Awareness sprang between them.

  Slowly, he set aside paper wrappings and tape, gaze never leaving her face. She raised herself on her arms, yearning toward him.