And then an old Georgia Satellites song started chiming from Kat’s shorts, warning Jesse in no uncertain terms to keep his hands to himself.
“You can’t be serious,” she hissed, fumbling to snatch the screeching cell phone out of her back pocket. She silenced the thing with a curse, tossing it into the soft patch of grass at their feet as if out of sight equaled out of mind.
Highly fucking unlikely, considering Gabe’s face was still smiling up at them from the display screen.
“I’m so sorry.” Kat pressed her lips together, and their kiss-swollen status sent a fresh jab of guilt right to Jesse’s gut. “He changed my ringtone as a joke last year. I never thought—”
“No,” Jesse interrupted, methodically righting her shorts and returning her discarded bandana before taking a step back. “Don’t apologize. If anyone should be saying they’re sorry, it’s me.”
God, he was such a jackass. After all Gabe’s loyalty, after everything he’d done without hesitation or question, Jesse had nearly paid the guy back by ravishing his sister against a tree.
On second thought, maybe jackass was about twelve levels too tame.
“You’re sorry?” Kat asked, her body going as rigid as the tall, proud oak behind her. Although her eyes were barely visible in the deepening shadows of the yard, the streak of hurt glittering through them hit him center mass.
“I got carried away,” Jesse said, the words like sand in his throat. “I’m supposed to be here helping you fix the place up, and I’m not . . . it won’t happen again, I promise.”
Kat lifted her chin in that defiant way that warned of an argument coming, but then at the last second, she knotted her arms over her heart and turned toward the duplex instead.
“I’m willing to forget it if you are. Do yourself a favor and ice that shoulder before you go to bed. It should help you get some sleep.”
But as she turned on her heel to march a straight line back to the lake house, Jesse knew that no matter how much he iced his shoulder, sleeping wouldn’t be an option.
Chapter Six
Kat eyeballed the living room wall in front of her, wrinkling her nose at the overwhelming smell of wet paint. The project might not have been so bad if it hadn’t taken her three nights to get halfway done—Lord knew the room was in desperate need of a good dressing up. But every time she tried to dive in and just power through the fumes, her mind wandered to Jesse’s strong hands on her body, the hypnotic feel of his mouth on her skin, and her concentration shattered like a priceless vase over concrete.
Jesse might not be much of a talker, but he was definitely one hell of a kisser. And despite her impetuous vow to forget everything that had happened the other night, Kat couldn’t shake the memory of how vulnerable he’d looked when he’d finally agreed to let her help with his pain.
Or the fact that if her brother hadn’t cock-blocked her via Southern rock anthem, that impromptu therapy session likely would’ve led to a whole new meaning to the phrase “the great outdoors.”
“Cut it out,” Kat muttered, her cheeks going thermonuclear as she slapped her brush back into the paint tray at her feet. Okay, so she’d gotten a ton of work done with Jesse the other day, and yes, the time had flown by as quickly and as effortlessly as the progress. But he’d swerved around her like a four-foot pothole ever since Gabe’s ill-timed interruption, to the point that the only thing she’d heard or seen of him was the rumble of his car at night and its presence in the driveway each morning. If Jesse wanted to pull the Band of Brothers card and treat her like an untouchable little sister, fine by her. She could fix up her half of the lake house all by herself.
Kat’s gaze landed back on the wall, AKA The Paint Project That Wouldn’t Die, and oh God, she was going to go bat-shit insane.
On second thought, screw this. She wasn’t going crazy.
She was going to the Double Shot, where she was going to tell Jesse in no uncertain terms what she thought about being treated like a baby.
Fifteen minutes later, Kat had swapped out her paint-speckled yoga pants for a pair of vintage boot-cut jeans and a bright red wraparound top. After adding a little sparkly lip gloss and a set of giant hoop earrings for good measure, she swiped her car keys from the kitchen counter and set her sights on Rural Route 4.
She hadn’t been to the Double Shot in probably a year or so, preferring the comfort of staying home to all the action of a noisy bar and grill. But Kat found the place easily enough, and come to think of it, the restaurant looked more warm and inviting than she’d remembered, with its weathered clapboard and merrily lit brass lantern fixtures chasing the nighttime shadows off the porch. The heels of her leather boots clacked a determined rhythm over the walkway, surrendering in sound but not purpose as she made her way inside the busy bar.
“Hi, welcome to the Double Shot,” greeted a cheery blonde with a tray full of beer and burgers balanced miraculously over one palm. “Table or bar?”
“Oh.” Well, crap. Kat had been so wild-eyed to give Jesse what-for and why-not that she hadn’t quite come up with a plan for after she got in the door. “Can I eat at the bar?”
“Sure thing, sugar. Kitchen’s open until ten-thirty. Help yourself.”
Kat made her way to the back of the restaurant, situating herself on a leather-padded stool halfway down the bar. The patrons around her were caught in various states of dining and drinking, and between the scent of chargrilled burgers floating in from the kitchen and the sounds of happy chatter weaving over the twang of the jukebox, she couldn’t deny the Double Shot’s warm atmosphere.
“Well, well, well,” came a familiar masculine rumble from the other side of the bar. “Can’t say I was expecting to see you here.”
Kat broke into a grin at the sight of her friend Nick Brennan standing in front of her with his nearly black brows raised. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises. How are you, Brennan?”
His return smile flashed through a liberal dose of dark stubble as he reached over the bar to give her a quick hug. “Good as I can be. Can I get you a drink?”
She scanned the drink specials posted on the chalkboard to her left, making a face at the list of the usual offenders. “I’d love a Brandy Alexander.”
“What are you, my grandmother?” Brennan laughed, but Kat wasn’t about to let him off the hook, even though this wasn’t their usual venue to meet up.
“No, I’m your physical therapist. Did you really think I’d order a Cosmo like every other girl in this place?”
Brennan’s hands fumbled to a graceless halt over the ice-filled shaker he’d placed on the bar mat. “Yeah. About that. Nobody here knows.”
“Okay.” Patient confidentiality didn’t only apply to MD’s, not that Kat would’ve spilled the beans if it did. Even if Brennan’s story was one hell of a humdinger. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thanks.” He grabbed a bottle of Courvoisier, his smile returning in slow degrees. “So did you just have a hankering for a weird cocktail, or are you hungry?”
Kat sat up as tall as possible, straightening her spine against the back of her bar stool as she pinned her game face into place. “Actually, I came to see your sous chef.”
Brennan lowered the bottle of brandy to the bar with a thunk. “You know Jesse?”
“He lives across the hall from me. Any chance you could tell him I’m here?”
“Damn. You weren’t kidding about being full of surprises,” Brennan murmured, finishing her drink with a shake and a smooth pour. “I’ll go let him know.”
Kat nodded her thanks, lacing her fingers together over the glossy mahogany bar in an attempt to keep them steady. A minute passed, sliding into two. The door from the bar to the kitchen swung open, then closed, then open again, as a continuous stream of servers and other staff members moved through the space with dishes and drinks. A redheaded bartender stopped by to check on her at the ten-minute mark, the woman’s smile as friendly as it was curious. Kat assured her she was all set.
Finally, after fifteen unbelievably long minutes, he shouldered his way past the entrance from the kitchen. Kat’s pulse rattled through her veins at the sight of him, and despite her every effort to call up the irritation that had brought her here, the intensity of his glinting brown stare sent a shot of heat right between her thighs.
Treasonous lady bits.
“Hey.” He reached out to place something in front of her on the bar, and only then did Kat realize he’d carried a plate in his hands when he’d walked out of the kitchen.
“What’s this?” she asked, confusion muddling the argument that had been brewing in her throat. The sweet, mellow scent of fresh basil blended together with brighter notes of citrus, and great—now her stomach was joining her libido in a full-on act of mutiny.
Jesse placed his palms on the bar, not moving his eyes from hers. “Lemon basil chicken, wild rice amandine, and brown butter haricots verts.”
“I—I’m sorry?”
A smile twitched at his lips. “Did you really think I’d bring you a burger like every other girl in this place?”
A shocked laugh burst from her chest, completely against her will. Brennan mouthed a sheepish sorry from a few paces away, where he and the redhead stood by the bar alcove, polishing pint glasses that already looked suspiciously clean.
Kat hedged, dropping her gaze to the plate at her elbow. “It looks delicious.” As if to tack on its own personalized agreement, her stomach belted out a groan from behind the red cotton of her top.
And despite her fervent prayer to the contrary, the noise didn’t go unnoticed. “When was the last time you ate something, Kat?”
“Lunch,” she said, but the word crossed her lips as way more question than fact.
Jesse’s brows shot up as if she’d just sprouted wings and asked for the nearest runway in town. “It’s nine-thirty at night.”
“I know. Well, I do now,” Kat amended. But it wasn’t her fault that painting the living room was taking so ungodly long. She must’ve lost track of time, and her dinner along with it. Speaking of which . . . “Anyway, why are you being nice to me? I’m mad at you.”
“I know.”
“You what?” Damn it, nothing about this was going as she’d planned. Since when had looking contrite become so freaking sexy?
Jesse leaned in, his expression staying hard even though his voice softened. “Look, no offense, but you’re hardly a shrinking violet. It wasn’t a giant logic leap to figure you’d be pissed. Or that I deserve it. So I made you dinner as a peace offering.”
Just like that, Kat’s entire argument faded out like the end of a really bad movie.
“You don’t have to avoid me, you know,” she said, because even though her irritation had lifted, that didn’t mean she should dance around the truth. “We made a really good team in the yard, and we still both have the same goal. It’s silly for us not to work together. You said so yourself.”
Jesse gave a slow nod, pushing back from the edge of the bar to stand at his full height. “You know what, you’re right. I promised I’d fix the place up, and I stand by my promises. Working together was easier, and it makes sense.”
Relief spiraled through Kat’s chest, and she let it slide out on a smile. “Well, good, because if you don’t help me paint the living room on my side of the house, I think I might lose my faculties.”
“Painting will definitely spruce that room up. Especially with the color you picked.”
Confusion trickled past her relief. “How do you know what color I picked?”
“Because.” He reached out to circle her wrist with his fingers, eyes glinting like warm cinnamon as he flipped her palm gently upward. “You’ve got it on your arm.”
“Oh.” Heat flushed over Kat’s cheeks at the sight of the sky-blue smudge on the outside of her forearm. She scrambled to come up with something—hell, anything—clever to say. But her bumbling attempt was cut short by the overly loud sound of a throat clearing at Jesse’s side.
“Ahem.” The redhead tapped Jesse on the shoulder, stepping in with a bright smile. “Kitchen’s pretty slow right now. Why don’t you go ahead and take a break, Jesse?”
“Because I already took one before the dinner rush started,” he said, turning to send a glance at the swinging door leading back to the kitchen.
The woman’s smile didn’t budge. “Take another one.”
Jesse divided a glance between Kat and the door to the kitchen, hesitating. “But—”
The redhead held up her hand, sending her gaze skyward although there was no heat in either gesture. “Let me put it to you this way. If you don’t take a break, I’ll tell Adrian that your friend’s dinner got cold because you stood here arguing with me. Now, do you want to incur that wrath, or do you want to take this poor woman to an empty two-top so you can keep her company while she eats?”
Surprise parted Kat’s lips. “Oh, no. That’s really okay. I don’t mind eating right here at the bar by myself.”
Of course, Brennan chose that exact moment to appear at the redhead’s side with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “She’s just as stubborn as he is, Teagan. Trust me.”
“Hey!” Kat said, although she couldn’t back up her protest with anything meaningful. She was kind of stubborn. Still, a girl had her pride, so she tacked on, “I’m going to remember that, Brennan.”
“Okay,” he answered with just a touch too much glee before turning to look at Jesse. “Looks like table 6 is open.”
Jesse shook his head, reaching out to slide her plate over the corded muscles of his forearm. “Come on. They’re like bears. They only get worse when you poke them.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, but Jesse hadn’t even opened his mouth to reply when both Brennan and Teagan chimed in.
“He’s sure,” they said simultaneously, and oooookay. That settled that.
Jesse made his way out from behind the bar, meeting her on the floorboards before leading the way to a cozy booth off the path of most of the restaurant’s foot traffic. The high-backed banquettes let in just enough music to offer ambience and just enough light to create a warm, alluring glow.
Kat settled across from Jesse, unwinding her utensil roll to drape her napkin over the front of her jeans. “It looks like you get along well with your coworkers.” If her relationship with her brother had taught her anything, it was how to spot the merciless ribbing that equated to true affection.
He lifted a shoulder, although it was a more natural counterpart to his usual tightly knotted shrug. “Yeah. We give each other a hefty amount of crap, but it’s all good. They’re the only family I’ve got, so the Double Shot is like my home.”
She paused. Jesse had lived in Pine Mountain all his life. How could this place be his home? “Well, you chose wisely,” she finally said. “Brennan’s a good guy. Even if he is a pain in the ass sometimes.”
“So you know him pretty well, then?” Jesse shifted against the smooth leather of the banquette, and Kat selected her next words with extreme care.
“Sure. I’ve seen him around.”
A muscle ticked along the clean-shaven angle of Jesse’s jaw, outlining his otherwise unreadable face. “As in, you’ve bumped into him at Joe’s Grocery, or as in, you’ve seen him?”
Kat’s expression turned to confusion for just a moment before she let out a long peal of laughter. Now this, she could disclose fully. “Oh God, no. Brennan and I have never dated. We’re just, ah, friends.”
“Oh.” Jesse looked at her, a flicker of something Kat couldn’t quite recognize dashing through his eyes before he dropped them to her plate. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from your dinner. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
“You really didn’t need to make me anything,” she said, although it didn’t stop her from picking up her fork.
“Just like you didn’t have to help me with my sho
ulder the other night, you mean?” One corner of his mouth lifted in the barest suggestion of a smile, and damn it, she’d waltzed right into that one, hadn’t she. “Anyway, you haven’t eaten since lunch. I don’t want you getting froggy on me.”
Kat barely tamped down her amusement. “Is that the technical term you use in the Army?”
“No, but when you’re in the field, transient cerebral hy-poperfusion is kind of a mouthful.”
Point taken. She started to craft an answer to that effect, but the words disappeared with her first bite of wild rice.
“Oh my God, this is amazing,” she said, scooping up another taste even though she’d barely swallowed the first. The nutty flavor of the rice combined perfectly with the mellow crunch of the slivered almonds in the dish, and no way—were those dried cranberries too?
“Thanks.” Jesse lifted a shoulder. “We do a lot of experimenting with different dishes. Glad this one turned out okay.”
“Jesse, please,” Kat managed to say around a forkful of flawlessly crisp-tender haricots verts. “Mac and cheese from a box is okay.”
He shrank back as if she’d committed all seven deadly sins right there in the booth. “Please tell me you don’t eat mac and cheese from a box.”
“Oh, come on. Boxed mac and cheese might pale in comparison to this, but it isn’t that bad,” she argued, but Jesse stood his ground and argued right back.
“Mac and cheese from a box is the culinary equivalent of a cold shower. No wonder you’re so hungry for something decent.”
Kat’s laughter welled up from beneath her breastbone, and she held up both hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. You’re the chef.” She indulged in a few bites of chicken before voicing the question rattling around in her head. “So how does a guy like you end up in a professional kitchen, anyway? I mean, medic training is pretty specialized, and you already qualify to work as an EMT.”
“Yeah.” Jesse’s muscles flexed with latent tension beneath his snug black T-shirt, but still, he met her inquisitive stare. “It was Gabe’s suggestion, actually.”
Just One Taste Page 6
