Bonus Kisses

by Freya Barker

  My body is instantly awake.

  Jesus.

  I blow out air between pursed lips and force myself to turn away from the window, but that doesn’t stop the fantasy playing out in my mind.

  By the time the coffee is brewing and the back door opens, my face is flushed.

  “You okay?” Rafe says, clueless I’ve just mentally had my way with him.

  “Yup.”

  I can feel him staring as I pull down our mugs, until the restless pups finally draw his attention, wanting food. Listening to him fill the dog bowls I keep my back turned, trying to force the blood to slow down in my veins. A hiss escapes me at a slight brush against my hip and I feel his heat as his arm reaches around me, grabbing his coffee from the counter. Just like that my body runs hot again.

  “We need to talk.”

  Those words are like an ice bath, instantly cooling me down. “About what?” I turn to find him leaning against the kitchen island.

  “We never finished our plans for the kids this summer. There’s only two weeks of school left.”

  Right, I was supposed to give that some thought. “Well, I got my work schedule on Friday and I have shifts three days a week: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

  “Okay. I can ask Lisa to schedule me in on Saturdays, so I can have Sunday and Monday off.”

  “That leaves two days,” I point out. “What about camps? You mentioned something about Sofie being in day camp last year?”

  “I asked her about that last night,” he says, a shadow sliding over his face. “It caused a bit of a meltdown.”

  “Oh, no.” I instinctively cross the space separating us and touch his arm. “What happened?”

  Rafe’s blue eyes turn a dark indigo, and as if burned I immediately pull my hand back. I don’t get far when his fingers snap firmly around my wrist, holding me in place.

  For what seems like an eternity, we stare into each other’s eyes. Rafe’s face is impassive, but his eyes swirl with emotions I can’t even begin to identify. Worried about what he might recognize in my own, I finally lower my gaze. Unfortunately that has me staring at the front of his jeans, where a substantial bulge is pressing against the fabric.

  Holy shit.

  I swing around, ripping out of his hold, and take two wobbly steps to brace my hands on the counter.

  My sister’s counter.

  In my sister’s kitchen.

  In my sister’s house with my sister’s husband—my dead sister.

  I drop my chin down and draw in a shaky breath through the pain ballooning in my chest. I’m going to hell.

  “Taz…” His deep rumbly voice too close behind me skitters like a dose of voltage over my skin.

  I shake my head sharply. “Summer camp,” I grind out, determined to pull us back from what surely would be a disaster.

  There’s a long pause before I sense him stepping back. “She doesn’t want to go. Sofie,” he unnecessarily explains. “She was pretty adamant, even though she couldn’t really explain why.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I point out without turning around. “I’m sure she is feeling a lot of things she can’t really explain. Grief is like that; attaching itself irrationally to random things or experiences without real rhyme or reason.”

  I know, because I just had a moment like that.

  I squeeze my eyes shut at the realization that no matter what my body tells me—what my heart wants—it will always be stained with the grief of Nicky’s loss.

  “I’m going to grab a shower,” Rafe says behind me before I feel a light tug on my dreads. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

  I listen to his footsteps disappear down the hall and up the stairs, wondering what exactly he proposes we figure out.

  Rafe

  The house smells incredible when I walk in the back door.

  After my cold shower this morning, I was almost grateful to be called out for an emergency. Nothing sobers you instantly like a poor dog getting his leg caught in a poacher’s trap. Unfortunately the leg couldn’t be saved, but the dog will live.

  There’s no one in the kitchen, so I walk over to the stove to lift the lid off the heavy cast iron pot, and stick my nose in it.

  “It’s not ready.” I almost drop the lid at the sound of Taz’s voice behind me. She’s smiling when I whip my head around, but her heart is not in it. “Give it another forty-five minutes and you can have a taste.”

  “What is it?”

  “Moambe Chicken, I had to tweak the recipe because I couldn’t get everything at the grocery store, but it’s close enough.”

  I ease the lid back on the pan and turn fully to face her. “Where are the kids?”

  “The four-legged ones are zonked out underneath the coffee table and the two-legged ones are at Kathleen and Brent’s, playing in the pool.”

  “Good.” It’s perfect actually.

  I reach for her hand and pull her along into the living room and down on the couch beside me. Lilo and Stitch barely seem to notice.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Again?” She pulls he hand from mine. “We talked this morning, before we went…off track.”

  “That’s what we need to talk about.” I reach for her again, determined to get us past this elephant in the room. “I know you haven’t missed the way my body responds to you whenever you’re near. I haven’t missed yours.”

  Her mouth falls open in shock, and in the next moment she’s up and standing on the other side of the coffee table, her arms tellingly crossed over her chest. “Don’t…”

  “What? Tell the truth?”

  “It’s…” she seems to struggle finding the right word until she settles on, “…inappropriate.”

  “That doesn’t make it less true,” I insist, trying not to scoff.

  “Nicky—”

  I quickly press on before she can stop me. “I know she talked to you. She talked to me as well. She knew, well before I was willing to acknowledge it, and possibly right from the start, that my head may have been invested but my heart wasn’t.”

  “How can you say that?”

  Both dogs startle awake at Taz’s loud outburst and Stitch whimpers confused.

  “Because you and I both know it’s the truth, and so did Nicky. There’s always been something between us. I suspect even your mother knows.” Taz claps her hands over her ears and closes her eyes. “Taz…” She doesn’t—or pretends not to—hear me. I get up and step in front of her, peeling her hands away from her head. Her eyes open to reveal them filling with tears.

  “It’s not right. She’s been gone less than two months.”

  “Normally I’d agree with you, but be honest, Taz, you and I both know whatever is going on between us dates back years, not months.”

  “What about the kids? Jesus, my parents? I can’t do this to them again.”

  “Stop it,” I snap when she covers her face with her hands. “This is about you and me. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not proposing to flaunt anything in their faces. We haven’t even had a chance to discover what we have.” I gently pull her hands away and hold them firmly in mine. “All I’m asking is we at least be honest with each other. That we explore this. I’ve spent nine years hiding in a marriage that was a lie from the start. On both Nicky’s and my part. I don’t want years of resentment to build up between you and me because of lies and misunderstandings. There’s been too much of that already.”

  I see the war waging behind her eyes, and it’s so tempting to use her body to force the outcome, but the last thing I want to do is manipulate her decision. Instead I lift her hands to my mouth and kiss first one, and then the other palm, before dropping them. Then I scoop the dogs up under my arms and take them out for a much-needed piddle.

  “Where did these come from?”

  Clearly shocked, Sarah stops inside the door when she is enthusiastically greeted by Lilo and Stitch.

  “They’re ours,” Spencer quickly info
rms her. “They come from the farm,” he says with a serious face.

  “Is that so?” I feel before I see the heat of my mother-in-law’s glare before she pointedly ignores the wiggling fur at her feet and walks straight toward the kitchen. “That didn’t take long,” she says under her breath as she passes me, kids and dogs following her.

  I quickly suppress the pang of guilt at her words. I shouldn’t be surprised she’s aware one of the ongoing disagreements Nicky and I had was around pets. I wanted a dog for the kids, she didn’t. I’ll admit, for me it was more about fulfilling a childhood dream of my own, while Nicky pointed out that with the clinic next door, the kids would have enough exposure to animals without needing to bring them into the home. It had been a standoff to which there had never been a solution.

  “Whose farm?” Ed asks, following slower behind.

  “Ken Friar, up on Tom Akers Road.”

  “Maisy’s pups?”

  “Actually, Maisy’s grandpups. Maisy’s been gone a few years. They’re her daughter’s.”

  He harrumphs something about time flying and, like the rest of the family, heads into the kitchen.

  “I need a stiff one,” he announces, to which Sarah’s head swings around.

  “You know what the doctor said. No more than one with that new medication.”

  Ed waves his hand dismissively and beelines it for the backyard, where the kids are playing. I step out behind him and help him down into a chair.

  “It’s a good thing,” he says when I fold his walker and set it out of the way.

  “What is?”

  “That.” He points a shaking finger at the kids rolling in the grass with the dogs. “I always wanted to get our Natasha a puppy. Veronica had no interest but Taz, she was the one who would tag along with me on calls every chance she got. Crazy about animals, she was. I always thought she’d be the one to work with me in the clinic.”

  “I sometimes wondered about that,” I confess, taking the seat beside him. “How did Nicky end up working there?”

  “Convenience, I reckon. She never was one to venture far from the safety of home if she could help it. Taz, on the other hand, now she was a hard one to hold back. Always seemed to be looking for opportunities to explore. Heck, even as a child she had dreams of seeing the world.”

  “Guess she got her dream,” I observe.

  “Hmmm. So did Nicky. All she wanted was a husband, kids, and a home to look after.”

  I’d known that. Or at least I could probably sense it, which is why I figured the older sister would be perfect for me. She seemed to want the same things out of life I thought I did.

  “She had those.”

  The older man nods. “Still, I can’t help wonder if either of them were really happy.”

  I don’t have the heart to agree with him. “Ready for that drink?” I ask instead.

  “Any of that Glenfiddich left?”

  I grin at the same question he asks every time. “You bet.” I head into the kitchen where my mother-in-law is hovering over Taz, who bulges her eyes at me. “Drinks, ladies?”

  “Not for me,” Sarah answers with a wave of her hand.

  “Taz, you?”

  “Yes, please.” She darts me a quick smile before turning back to the pot she’s stirring.

  I grab a wineglass from the cupboard and dig her bottle of pinot grigio from the fridge. As I fill the glass, I notice Sarah watching me, her lips pressed together tightly.

  Unsure what that is about, I slip Taz’s glass on the counter beside her, get Ed his Glenfiddich, and myself a bottle of beer from the fridge, before heading back outside.

  “Dinner in fifteen,” Taz calls after me, and I raise my hand holding my beer in acknowledgement.

  “This is yummy,” Spencer says twenty minutes later, his mouth full of chicken.

  “It is, Son, but no talking with your mouth full, please.”

  “Very tasty,” Ed agrees, eating Taz’s dish with relish.

  Even Sofie seems to be enjoying the food, although she’s shoved the few beans Taz served her to the side of her plate.

  “It’s good,” my mother-in-law finally admits. “Never quite tasted anything like it, but it’s good.”

  Taz smiles at me across the table, and for a moment the world settles on its axis. Then Ed shakes things up when he turns to his wife.

  “Who’d have thought Taz would inherit your knack for cooking?”

  The clatter of Sarah’s fork on her plate is loud.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Taz

  “Do they make you wear that?”

  Spencer eyes the navy handkerchief I tied around my head to keep my hair out of the way.

  Aside from occasionally pulling my dreads in a loose twist on top of my head, I don’t fuss with them much. After my first day on Monday, however, when three of the four patients we visited almost blanched at the sight of me, I figured maybe I’d cover them up.

  I try not to be offended, after all, this is Eminence. Besides, most of the patients are elderly. I’ll have to tuck the dreads out of the way until they get to know me better.

  “No. It’s not really part of the uniform. It simply keeps my hair from flying in my face when I’m working.”

  “Oh.” Apparently satisfied with my answer, he turns his attention on Stitch, who is pulling on his pant leg. “Can I give him a Cheerio?”

  “No. Your dad says people food is not good for them.”

  “That’s right,” Rafe’s voice sounds behind me as he walks into the kitchen. “Eat up your own food. At this rate we’ll be running for the bus again.”

  “Running is fun,” Spencer says, grinning.

  “Is not,” Sofie, who is not nearly as chatty as her brother, counters.

  “All right, guys, let’s go,” their father orders firmly, nipping any bickering in the bud. Spencer gets up and starts walking away from the table.

  “Hey, kid,” I call him back. “Bowl in the sink. Do I look like your cleaning lady?”

  He puts on the brakes and turns back to the table. After he completes his task, he stops in front of me, looking up. “You actually kinda do.”

  Before I have a chance to respond, Rafe herds him into the hallway to get on his shoes.

  “You could always cut your hair.”

  I swing around at the sound of Sofie’s voice. She adds her bowl to her brother’s in the sink while looking at me from under her lashes. I’m still contemplating how to respond to that when Rafe calls her from the hallway.

  “Sofie, the bus!”

  My niece’s comment has stuck with me all day. It’s still playing through my mind when Nathan pulls up to the small single-story house where our last patient for the day lives.

  The seventy-two-year-old woman was a last-minute addition to our schedule. With Type 1 diabetes, she apparently has a wound on her leg that won’t heal. Not that uncommon, but definitely something that—if not properly cared for—could result in amputation or even death.

  There’s a single deep bark from inside the house when Nathan knocks. We can hear shuffling and then the slide of a lock, before the door is pulled open and a familiar face pokes out.

  I remember Mrs. Myers. Not particularly fondly, though. She’s been a member of my parents’ church for as long as I can remember, and one of the town’s worst busybodies. I’d noticed her at Nicky’s funeral as well, sitting front and center so as not to miss a thing.

  I don’t think she ever liked me, even growing up. Once when I was maybe twelve, I’d climbed on her fence to snatch a few peaches off her tree and she caught me. You’d think I held her up at gunpoint, the way she was carrying on. Called the police and everything. She never let me live that down.

  That’s what I mean about Eminence, it’s impossible to move past your worst moment.

  “Mrs. Myers? We spoke on the phone earlier. Good to see you’re moving around a little.” Nathan smiles at the sour-looking woman as he gently backs her inside. “We’re here to have a look
at your leg. This is Natasha, and she’ll be one of the nurses looking after you.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Myers.” I try for a smile, even though I’d rather stick a fork in my eye. The thought of having to deal with her three days a week is almost more than I can handle. The only saving grace is the overweight beagle who seems to have taken a shine to me. Or maybe it’s just he smells the puppies. Either way, I’m glad at least the dog is happy to see me.

  “Natasha.” She nods, saying nothing more than my name.

  I’m grateful for Nathan’s presence, he cranks up the charm the moment he notices the tension, effectively distracting the older woman. He keeps her chatting as I quickly tend to her wound.

  It’s not until we’re ready to leave she addresses me directly. “How is your poor mother doing?”

  “She’s coping, Mrs. Myers. We all are.”

  “Still,” the woman persists, “she was such a treasure, your sister. I’m sure her passing has left a hole her family will never recover from.”

  Her family?

  I don’t want to react—for anyone listening it sounds like she’s being sympathetic—but something must’ve betrayed the jab I heard loud and clear, because Nathan jumps to the rescue.

  “We should really get going. Janet will be here tomorrow, Mrs. Myers. She’ll help you with your bath as well.” Without waiting for a response, he ushers me out the door, closing it behind us.

  “It’s not that hard to switch a few things on the schedule around,” he says when we get in the car, further confirming his insight. “I didn’t realize you knew each other.”

  “Most people who grew up here know each other one way or another.”

  “Winona has about double the population, but it’s true there too. Anyway, like I said, I’m happy to assign her to one of the others.”

  It’s tempting, but I know it would only be a temporary reprieve. I’m bound to bump into more people like Mrs. Myers or even Sheila Mantle, who think they know who I am. I can’t really control that; I’ll simply have to find a way to deal with it.