Lissa- Sugar and Spice 1.6 - Final

by Lissa- Sugar

  “So be it,” she murmured as Nick pulled up to the house.

  “What?”

  She looked at him. “I was just—I was just thinking about the weather. Any chance Hank will be able to get here today instead of tomorrow?”

  Nick shook his head. “No. I spoke to him just before we went into town.” He opened his door, arranged his crutch to take his weight and stepped down. Brutus jumped after him. “I know you want to get out of here, but you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s OK. I mean, that’s fine…”

  Nick wasn’t listening. A couple of his men were coming toward them; they began unloading the boxes from the back of the truck. Lissa watched for a few seconds. Then she hopped down from the truck.

  It was time to get to work, and that trip to town had been part of work.

  It was best to remember that.

  Nick’s guys were carrying the boxes into the kitchen and stacking them on the big worktable. Lissa left her new jacket and boots in the hall, went up to her room for her kitchen clogs. Downstairs again, she dug around in a couple of the boxes until she’d unearthed cheese, cold cuts and a bag of rolls.

  She made the men a quick lunch. Nick didn’t join them. Fine. She’d be out of here tomorrow. Until then, the less they saw of each other, the better.

  It would take at least an hour to put everything away. The big joint of meat in the sink was still frozen, but at least she could see that it was elk or moose. She’d get to it later. For now, she’d organize meals she’d make and freeze, then start dinner. She had a long afternoon’s work ahead of her, and that was absolutely fine.

  * * *

  She had just put two big pans of lasagna in the oven when her cell phone chirped.

  She wiped her hands on the ragged dish towel she was using as an apron and took the phone from her pocket.

  Emily, said the caller ID.

  Lissa took a steadying breath, pasted on a smile as if her youngest sister could see her—which, thank goodness, she could not—and said a bright, happy “Hi!”

  “Liss. I’ve been calling and calling! Don’t you ever check your voice mail?”

  “What’s the matter? Is somebody sick?”

  “No, no, we’re all fine. I just started worrying, that’s all. You know. When you didn’t take my calls.”

  “I didn’t get them.”

  “How come?”

  Because I’m not in L.A., I’m in Montana, and there was a snowstorm and I’d bet that there’s zero coverage for cell phones around here when the weather closes in…

  “Liss?”

  “I don’t know,” Lissa said blithely. “You know how these cell phones are.”

  “Well, you should get it checked.”

  “I will, I will.”

  “Because, I mean, that’s the whole purpose of having a cell phone, right? So people can reach you?”

  “Right, Sure.”

  “I mean—”

  “I know what you mean,” Lissa said, a little tightly. She took a breath, eased it out. “So, what’s new, Em? How are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “And that gorgeous husband of yours?”

  “Marco’s fine, too,” Emily said. “He says to send his love.”

  “Yeah, great, my love right back at you both. Listen, Em, I’m a little busy right now—”

  “I won’t keep you, Liss. I just wanted to know if you’d like a visit.”

  “A what?” Lissa said, trying not to sound panicky.

  “You remember Nola? She and I shared an apartment in Manhattan.”

  Lissa didn’t remember Nola. In fact, she doubted if she’d ever met her sister’s former roommate. Back then, Emily hadn’t let anybody within a hundred miles of where she lived, because she’d been living a lie, but why go into that now?

  “What about her?”

  “Well, she just called me. She’s in Hollywood, some kind of audition thing, and she’s only going to be there tonight and part of tomorrow, so I thought it might be cool if you guys got together.”

  “Now?”

  “I know it’s kind of last minute, but that’s Nola. She doesn’t always plan ahead.”

  “I can’t,” Lissa said, probably too quickly.

  “OK. I know it’s an imposition, but—”

  “It isn’t an imposition.”

  “How about if I tell her to give you a call and you can work out the details? Maybe just meet for a drink or—”

  “I’m not in L.A., Em. I’m, ah, I’m in Montana.”

  “Montana? What, on location, you mean? Oh, that’s exciting! Who’s making a movie in Montana?”

  Lissa chewed on her bottom lip. What if Emily wanted details? The movie’s name. The director. The actors.

  “Lissa? Did I lose you? I said—”

  “I heard you. Look, I can’t tell you very much except that—that I have a new job. I’m executive chef at a—at a famous ranch.”

  Not a lie. Not exactly. What was she if not executive chef? And surely the Triple G was famous. In Clarke’s Falls, anyway.

  “Oh, wow!” Emily voice rose with excitement. “I just watched something on TV about those Montana resorts. Very la-di-da, right? Hot tubs. Fire pits. The rich and the famous everywhere you turn.”

  Lissa sank down on a chair at the worktable. Did dreams of hot tubs and fire pits run in the Wilde DNA?

  “What a perfect description of this place,” she said, looking up as Brutus trotted into the kitchen and headed toward her.

  He had something in his massive jaws.

  What was it? A toy? A bone? What in hell… It wasn’t a thing, it was a creature.

  She shot to her feet. “Emily. I have to go.”

  “Wait! What’s the name of this place? Did they ever feature it on ‘Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous’?”

  Oh, God! The thing was alive. It was wiggling.

  “I don’t mean ‘Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.’ I don’t think that’s on anymore, is it? But we used to watch it like crazy. Remember?”

  The thing—a squirrel? A rat? A chipmunk?—had a long, swishing tail.

  “We used to watch it when our nanny—which nanny was that?—when she thought we were watching the evening news.” Emily laughed. “I mean, we were, what? Ten, eleven and twelve? Would we really have watched the news instead of drooling over all those movie stars?”

  That was what Brutus was doing. Drooling. Tail thumping, what seemed to be his late-day snack clamped between his teeth, he sat down in front of her, his dark eyes filled with joy.

  “Em. Really. This isn’t a good time!”

  “What? You have a soufflé in the oven?”

  No. A giant dog has something in its maw.

  “A soufflé! Exactly.”

  “Well, have fun. And good luck with that new—”

  “Thanks. Bye.”

  Lissa slapped her phone to silence. “Nick? Nick?” Her voice rose to a shriek as she bolted from the room, skidded through the dining room and into the hall—

  “Hey,” Nick said.

  She fell against him. His arms went around her.

  “Easy,” he said. “Easy, honey. What happened?”

  Lissa waved her hand in the direction of the kitchen.

  “Brutus has something.”

  Nick sighed. “Damn. I’ve been trying to break him of that you can’t eat anything unless you hear the secret word crap. It’s working, more or less. Couple of weeks ago, he swiped a roast off the kitchen counter. If he’s done that again—”

  “It’s not that kind of something.” Lissa shuddered. “It’s a live something. He’s going to kill it.”

  “No way. Not Brutus.”

  “Yes, Brutus. Come and see.”

  “I will,” Nick said.

  But neither of them moved.

  His arms were hard around her. Her face was pressed against his chest. The soft wool of his sweater tickled her nose; his scent engulfed her. Hay and horse. Dies
el and snow. And man. Not just man.

  He smelled of Nick. Clean. Male. And wonderful.

  Lissa closed her eyes.

  She burrowed closer.

  Nick made a low sound deep in his throat. He bent his head, pressed his lips to her hair.

  “Duchess,” he whispered, “about last night—”

  Brutus whined.

  Nick’s arms dropped to his sides. Lissa stepped back. Brutus looked at them from a few feet away. The thing, whatever it was, was still in his mouth.

  And still moving.

  “Jesus,” Nick muttered. He went toward the dog. “Brutus. Drop!”

  The Newf lowered his head, opened his mouth and gently deposited the thing on the floor.

  “Ohmygod,” Lissa gasped. “It’s a kitten!”

  An extremely small kitten, pale gray and oyster white with darker gray tiger stripes. The animal wobbled to its feet and gave a piteous mew.

  Brutus whined and touched his nose to it.

  “Yeah,” Nick said, “that’s a good boy. That’s a very good boy.”

  Lissa squatted beside the kitten. “I don’t think it’s more than four weeks old.”

  Nick thought about squatting down, too, thought better of it and reached his hand to the dog’s head for a long stroke.

  “I wonder where Brutus found him.”

  The kitten was trembling. It mewed again and fell on its side.

  “It must be freezing, Nick. And terrified.”

  “Well, I don’t know what we’re supposed to do for it. I know dogs, not cats, especially not kittens.”

  “It’s probably hungry, too.”

  Lissa opened the cardigan she was wearing over her T-shirt and cradled the kitten to her breasts. Nick felt a quick rush of envy, and wasn’t that pathetic? They had what was probably a dying kitten to deal with, and he was envying it for being held against Lissa’s silky, warm, sweetly-scented flesh.

  Wonderful. A cripple, a drunk, and a pervert. Nick Gentry, Hollywood Hero.

  “Nick? We need some soft towels. A shallow box.”

  “Duchess, listen, I don’t know the first thing about kittens.”

  “I do. We had barn cats back home.”

  Home. Barns. Right. She’d said she’d grown up in Texas.

  “I hope this little guy is old enough for real food. There’s no way for me to improvise kitten formula with what we bought today.”

  “Kitten formula?” Nick said blankly.

  “They can’t tolerate cow’s milk, but if this baby is old enough, a soft-boiled egg yolk mixed with warm oatmeal… That’ll do, to start. An eyedropper will help, just in case. And we need the towels and the box.”

  He nodded. “I’ll get the towels. And there’s sure to be an eyedropper somewhere in one of the bathroom medicine cabinets.”

  “Fine. I have all this morning’s cartons in the kitchen. I’ll get one and I’ll make an egg and some oatmeal and—” Her eyes widened. “Oh Lord!”

  “What?”

  “There’s sure to be other kittens. I mean, wherever Brutus found this one…”

  “Let me get the stuff you need. Then I’ll see if he’ll lead me to the place where he found this guy. It has to be somewhere in the house—he hasn’t been outside since we got back from town.”

  “I hope you find them in time,” Lissa said. “Otherwise, they’re not going to make it.”

  * * *

  He did find them in time, only it wasn’t them, it was just one other kitten, pale gold with deeper peach highlights on its tiny ears.

  “In the attic, of all places,” Lissa said softly as she and Nick sat in the warm kitchen, each holding a sleepy, full-bellied kitten.

  “The mother must have climbed up that big oak behind the house and across the roof,” Nick said. “I found a hole up there. That’s how she got in.” The kitten lying in his big hand yawned and stretched. Nick smiled and stroked it with one finger. “I’ll go up there later and fix it.”

  “The hole? No. Don’t do that. The mom might come back.”

  Nick shook his head. “She won’t.”

  “But you don’t know that.”

  “Yeah,” he said gruffly, “I do.”

  Lissa looked at him. “How—”

  He shook his head again. He’d found blood, fur, and a couple of owl pellets. How the kittens had avoided detection was beyond him, but he didn’t see any reason for going into the details.

  “She’s not coming back, Duchess.” His voice was soft. “What matters is that these guys got lucky.”

  He watched Lissa process his words. She swallowed hard. Then she smiled at the bit of fluff in her hand.

  “We had a tiger-striped gray-and-white cat named Louie. Well, his entire name was Louis L’Amour,” she said, pronouncing Louis the French way, “but we just called him Louie.”

  Nick grinned. “Louis L’Amour? A cat with literary pretensions, huh?”

  She looked at him and laughed. “Emily named him. My kid sister. Back then, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to grow up to write Western stories like L’Amour or paint Western scenes like Remington.”

  “And today she’s, what? A writer? A painter?”

  Lissa grinned. “She’s the VP for marketing at MS Enterprises. Her husband’s company. They do international construction.”

  “So, why don’t we call this guy Louie?”

  “Let’s. And what about her?” she said, nodding at the kitten sound asleep in Nick’s hand.

  “I’m not good at naming things.”

  “Everybody’s good at naming things. Just look at her. Does she remind you of anybody? Of anything?”

  “You’re so sure she’s a she?”

  “Nope. It’s not easy to tell when they’re this little, but I’d bet your kitten is a girl.”

  “My kitten?”

  “Yeah. Your kitten.” Lissa looked at him. “She seems happy to be with you.”

  He looked at the cat that now lay curled like a comma in his hand.

  “Dumb thing that she is,” he said, but with a tenderness that made Lissa smile.

  “So, come on, Gentry. Stop stalling and come up with a name.”

  Nick looked at the kitten, at that soft golden fur and the darker gold ears.

  “She’s the color of peaches,” he said.

  “That’s what you should call her. Peaches.”

  He grinned. “Why not? Louie and Peaches.”

  Brutus, lying at their feet, raised his muzzle from his front paws and whined. Nick laughed.

  “Brutus approves. In fact, he says it’s perfect.”

  “Perfect,” Lissa said, and thought, with a little rush of surprise, how right the word was to describe not just the moment, but the entire day.

  * * *

  She made a quick and easy supper. Meatloaf. Mashed potatoes with caramelized onions. Green beans. Dessert had taken a back seat to putting away all the groceries and dealing with the kittens, but the men reacted to a batch of chocolate chip brownies as if they were profiteroles filled with whipped cream.

  Sometime after six, she set about planning what to cook for the freezer in addition to the lasagna that was cooling on the worktable. The dinosaur haunch was in the fridge, marinating in tamari, garlic, herbs and a touch of honey, ready to go into the oven first thing in the morning. She’d leave Nick directions for when to take it out and what to do after that, because she’d be gone by the time the roast was ready.

  The thought made her feel a little sad. Foolish, of course, but she’d started to feel comfortable here.

  She dried her hands, smiled at the kittens sleeping in their box, and heard the pad of Brutus’s paws against the oak floor.

  Smiling, she turned toward the dog. “Did you come to keep me comp—”

  She broke off in mid-sentence. The dog wasn’t alone. Nick was with him—Nick, leaning on a wooden cane instead of a crutch.

  “Gentry? Are you—”

  “I’m fine.”

  Was he? His face was a l
ittle pale. She fought back the desire to grab a chair and shove it toward him. He was a grown man. He could take care of himself.

  “Stop looking at me as if I’m going to go down in a heap. I did that already, remember?” He flashed a quick smile. “A good actor never repeats a performance.”

  Lissa nodded. “Sure. I’m just, you know, a little surprised.”

  “The physio guy suggested I try using a cane a few hours a day.”

  “The physio guy?”

  “The physiotherapist that I work with. That I was working with.”

  “You don’t anymore?”

  “No.”

  The “no” was hard and short. It didn’t invite questions.

  “Well, if you came looking for coffee—”

  “I came looking for you.”

  “Oh.” Her heart did a little stutter step. Why it should have done that was beyond her to comprehend. “Did you hear from Hank?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And, he can be here as early as we want in the morning.”

  Lissa reached for a bunch of washed carrots.

  “Well, that’s great. I’ll just finish this and—”

  “You’ve been working all day.”

  “No. Not all day.”

  “All day,” Nick repeated. He cleared his throat. “We should settle up.”

  “Settle up what?”

  “All the time you’ve put in. I wrote you a check. Tell me if it isn’t enough.”

  Lissa turned toward him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Take it,” he said, holding out the check. “And if it isn’t enough, just say so.”

  “Gentry…”

  “It’s Nick.”

  “Nick. We said room and board, remember? And you bought me the boots and stuff today. That more than takes care of things.”

  “I said room and board, not you, and only because I was being a jerk. The boots and stuff…necessities. Go on. Take the check.”

  She reached for the check. Their fingers brushed and a swift electric tingle ran along her skin.

  Their eyes met. A muscle knotted in Nick’s jaw and suddenly the room seemed airless.

  “Static electricity,” Lissa said with a tight little laugh. She took a step back and stared blindly at the check. It took a while for the numbers to swim into focus. When they did, she looked up, shocked. “That’s much too much!”

  He smiled. “For an executive chef? It isn’t enough.”