by Cathryn Fox
His words hit like a slap and slam around my brain. Wait. Why wouldn’t he want me to fuck it up? His car is on the line. He needs me to fuck it up. “I won’t,” I say adamantly, although there is a measure of unease racing through my veins.
“We’ll see.”
“I won’t,” I say again.
Before he can say anything, Kinsley comes over, but stops in her tracks when she sees the way Cole and I are glaring at one another. I consider him my brother. My closest friend in the whole world. I love him. We’re ride and die buddies. Why the hell is he riding me like this? It’s not like him. He smiles at me, letting me know we’re okay, that he’s just messing with me, and I soften.
“Did I interrupt something?” Kinsley asks.
“No, Cole was just about to go get something for all his bug bites,” I say and a streak of pink crawls up Kinsley’s neck as Cole shoves me. I burst out laughing as he makes his way to the cooler to grab another beer.
“Everything okay?” Kinsley asks.
“Fine. We were just having a discussion.”
“Seemed serious.” She glances over her shoulder. “Is he still giving you a hard time?”
“Yeah.”
She makes a fist and slams it into her palm. “Want me to take care of that? I’m tougher than I look.”
The tightness in my neck releases and I grab her, pull her to me until she’s sitting on my lap. “So tough,” I say and kiss her. One of the kids at the table makes an “eww” sound and we break apart. “Rain check?” I ask as she stands. Before she steps away, I tug her to me again. “You went through a lot of trouble preparing all this food today. That was really nice of you.”
“Shh,” she says and glances over her shoulder. “I’m a badass, remember. Look at me with all these piercings. Don’t say that too loud, I have a reputation to uphold.”
“You’re anything but a bad ass, although you do have a hell of an ass.”
She chuckles. “A rebel?”
“You might seem like a rebel to your family, Kins,” I say, going serious. Jesus, I’m still pissed at the way they treated her, dismissed what’s important to her. I wish to hell she didn’t have to take the money left by her grandfather. He would have wanted her to have it, yes, but in no way do I want her to feel indebted to her family—or to me. I want to do this for her, but she seems hell bent on doing it herself. “Everyone here adores you, even Daisy. You’re an inspiration and a good example.”
The smile she gives me wraps around my heart and squeezes tight. “You’re sweet.”
“Hush,” I say and give her a whack on the ass. I glance over her shoulder. “I’m starving.”
“Our pizzas are coming right out.”
“Let me help you.”
We head inside and the fresh scent of bread fills my senses. She pulls trays from the oven, and I shake my head. “Your restaurant is going to be a huge hit.”
“Thank you.” She gestures with a nod. “Grab the cutter and we’ll slice these up.”
We cut up the slices and carry them out. As the children eat at one picnic table, we all take the other.
“Kins, as much as I said you didn’t need to cook for us, I’m sure glad you did,” Katee says biting into the flatbread. “This is so good.”
I put my hand on her thigh under the table and give it a squeeze.
“Since you spent all day making us food,” I tell her. “I’ll let you off the hook tonight. We don’t have to take the boys.”
“But I was looking forward to it. I have something very special planned,” Kinsley says, and I eye her.
“Yeah?” I ask. “What is it?”
“It’s kind of a surprise for you, too,” she says softly as I refill her wine.
“Um, excuse me,” Nina says holding out her glass. “Now that you have Kinsley, your sister doesn’t matter?” she says with a smirk.
I reluctantly tear my gaze away and grumble as I fill my annoying sister’s glass. Kinsley turns to Alyssa. “Sorry about all this,” she says. “I didn’t realize you’d be catching so many fish for us all.”
A round of groans go around the table as Alyssa laughs. “What?” Kinsley’s gaze goes around the table to take in my friends and family. “Was it something I said?” she asks so innocently, I’m not even sure she’s teasing. “Oh, wait, I get it,” she says. “You all think I’m pointing out that Alyssa caught all the fish, and you guys came home pathetically empty-handed.”
I nudge her and she turns my way, a grin on her face. “Nice one,” I say.
“We can do a fish fry tomorrow afternoon before we go back,” Alyssa says.
“You guys want me to cook them?” She laughs when a round of yesses go around the table. “Is that a yes?” she asks, and I love how comfortable she is with us all, how easily she fits in. That’s because she belongs here.
She belongs with me.
We all dig into our food and I savor the flavors. She arches a brow, like my opinion is important to her. “It’s delicious, Kins. Best I’ve ever had.”
“You’re just saying that,” she says and whacks me.
“Make no mistake about it. Your restaurant will be Seattle’s hot spot within a week.”
“Well I hope you’re right, because I don’t need any more mistakes in my life. I’ve made enough of them already,” she says with a laugh and nudges me. “We all have.”
My heart tightens a little. Does she not know that night was my best mistake? I make a mental note to tell her, when we’re alone.
We continue to talk about nothing and everything until the food is gone and the sun is low on the horizon. After the meal, we all help clean up, all except Kinsley. I sent her to the adirondack chair with a glass of wine to sketch out her design for her restaurant, since she did all the work.
Once the dishes are done, it’s dark, and since everyone is tired from an early morning, we all head back to our cottages. I go with my sister to help get the boys packed up for my place.
“You sure you don’t mind?” Nina asks. “You didn’t have anything personal planned for tonight?”
“No, we’re good. Kinsley wants to do this, too.”
“I like her, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say as I take Casey’s little hand in mine.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy before, big brother,” she says and reaches up to rustle my hair. The boys laugh. “Don’t let her get away, okay?” she says, her eyes and voice much more serious.
“I’m not sure—”
“She likes you, too, Cason. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
My heart does some ridiculous cartwheel in my chest. “What’s not to like?” I say giving her my best smart-assed comment, but deep inside I’m a hot mess of hope.
“Go,” she says and points to the door. “And take that big ego with you.” I open the door and she looks at the boys. “You guys be good for Uncle Cason and Aunt Kinsley, okay.”
Aunt Kinsley.
Wow, weird. I never stopped to think that she was their aunt. Their only aunt. My throat tightens. Jesus, if she walks when this is over, I’m not going to be the only one dealing with loss. These boys are getting to know her, and they like her. I usually don’t bring women into their lives. They do not need to see one coming and going all the time. That’s just not fair.
But Kinsley is no ordinary woman. Is that why I allowed her into their lives, because deep down, right from the start, I thought maybe I wouldn’t fuck things up, because this is something I really wanted?
We walk along the path, and the outside light is on as we approach my cottage. A little bubble of excitement wells up inside me and a smile I have no control over spreads across my face. I like the idea of her inside, waiting for me.
“Up you go,” I say to Casey, as Brandon dashes up the stairs. “We’re here,” I say as we enter.
“In the kitchen,” she calls out and we head down the hall. The second I enter the kitchen, see what’s sitting on the kitchen tab
le, the world sways around me.
“You have got to be kidding me!”
16
Kinsley
My heart jumps into my throat as Cason stands there, completely still, his brow furrowed, his gaze going from my very old Easy Bake Oven, to me, back to the ancient toy again. His expression is a mix of astonishment and disbelief and my throat practically closes over as I see the pleasure dancing in his eyes.
“What’s that thing?” Brandon asks, as he comes into the kitchen to examine the very strange looking oven from another generation. I’m not even sure they make something similar today.
“It’s—” I begin, but stop when Cason talks.
“It’s only the coolest toy in the world,” he says. “And the best surprise I’ve ever received in my entire life.”
His gaze lifts to mine, and my heart leaps into my tight throat as he gazes at me with pure adoration. “You did this for me?” he asks in a low voice, a storm brewing behind intense eyes.
“I thought it would be fun, you know. We can make some cakes or brownies.” I reach behind me and pull out a full-size cake mix. “They don’t make the little ones anymore, but we can use this,” I say, holding up the big box of dark chocolate delight, a little frazzled by his reaction. I thought he’d get a kick out of it, but there is more going on beneath the surface.
“I can’t believe you did this.” He lets go of Casey’s hand and the little boy saunters over, examining the machine like it’s the eighth wonder of the world. That makes me laugh. Kids today are so hooked on video games they have no idea how much fun these old things were. Although, all the offspring of all the Seattle Shooters who are here this weekend aren’t plunked in front of the television. No, they’re outside playing and swimming and fishing. If I ever had kids, these are the ones I’d want them to be playing with.
My stomach takes that moment to squeeze. Yes. I want kids. I want them with the man who is staring at me with warmth and appreciation. The world closes in a little, the room growing smaller, as part of me thinks it’s quite possible that I could have it all with this man, considering the way he’s staring at me.
“Cason…” He blinks as if to take himself out of his trance, and a stupid measure of worry, thanks to past experiences, seeps under my skin. Did I make a mistake? Am I reading him wrong? Is this just silly? “Do you no—”
“I love it,” he says, and I fold my arms around myself, loving that word on his tongue. “How…when? We traveled here together.”
I chuckle. “I hid it on the floor of the backseat.”
“I had no idea.”
“See, you’re not the only one full of surprises.”
“How does it work?” Brandon asks, and I look at his big curious blue eyes.
“Well, it works like a real oven, but it’s made for kids, so they get to bake but don’t risk burning themselves with a real oven.”
“I want to bake,” Casey says.
I ruffle his hair. “Good. I’m going to teach you how.”
Cason still hasn’t come into the kitchen. He continues to watch me from the doorway, and my heart still in my throat continues to pound. I can barely catch my breath as he watches me with warm, appreciative, yet fascinated eyes, like I might have just solved world hunger. The Easy Bake Oven won’t do that, but wow, I do love the way this man looks at me. It teases me in ways that makes me think he might want more.
“Are you going to join us?” I ask Cason and he takes a step closer. My breath catches simply from the way he moves. He gets closer and his warm scent washes over me. He steps behind me, his fingers trailing over my lower back, telegraphing a secret message between lovers. He likes this, and he’s going to make sure he shows me how much later.
I can’t wait.
“What do we do?” Brandon asks.
“Have you baked before, Brandon?” I ask.
“I made cookies with Mommy.”
“Can we make cookies?” Casey asks, his big eyes wide. My heart almost hurts as I look at his cute, eager face.
“Is cake okay?” I ask.
Casey nods. “I like cake.”
“How about chocolate icing?”
“I like chocolate icing,” Cason says and I get the sneaking suspicion that it’s not the cake he wants iced up—it’s me. There is nothing I can do to suppress the hard quake going through me and he grins, knowing very well why.
“I’ll let you lick the beaters then.”
“I want to lick the beaters,” Brandon says.
Casey climbs onto a chair. “Me, too.”
“Okay, you boys can have the beaters,” Cason says as he looks at me, his eyes indicating he has much more interesting things to lick.
“Okay, let’s get started,” I say. “First we wash up. You boys run to the bathroom. Use lots of soap. I want squeaky clean hands when you get back.”
They dash to the bathroom and my head spins as Cason pulls me to him in a fast tug, aligning my pelvis with his. “I can’t believe you did this!”
I shrug and look at the old green oven. My insides are alive, my thoughts jumbled as he gazes at me with heat, and something that might possibly be….love.
Do I dare hope?
“You said you always wanted one. I thought this would be fun. I don’t know if it will turn out all that great with the bigger mix, but it should be okay, and I hope you like chocolate. Actually who doesn’t like chocolate, right?” A wobbly grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as I ramble. Oh God, what is he thinking? “What?” I ask.
“You’re kind of adorable.”
I let loose a relieved laugh. “That’s better than what I thought you might be thinking.”
“What did you think I was thinking?”
I glance at all the supplies. “That you might think I was a big dork.”
His big belly laugh curls around me. “Well maybe a bit, but did I tell you I liked dorks?” Before I can whack him, his mouth closes over mine for a warm, deeply passionate kiss that makes me forget there is a world beyond him, beyond this moment. But I’m quickly reminded when I hear two sets of feet pounding toward the kitchen. I break the kiss, and work to find my breath as we part, but he doesn’t go far. No, he stays so close to me, a terrible distraction as I open the cake box and reach for a bowl.
“Okay, who wants to pour the mix into the bowl?” I ask the boys.
As Casey pours it and I measure out the water, Cason produces a glass of wine and hands it to me. “I believe white goes with chocolate,” he says, that same intense look on his face again, one that tells me exactly how he plans to taste his chocolate.
My hand almost shakes as I gratefully take it from him, take a sip, and set it on the table.
“How does a lightbulb cook it?” Brandon asks as he pours in the water, and I give Casey a big spoon to stir it.
“Well,” Cason begins and goes into explaining how the heat from the light bulb can cook the cake.
I grin. “It’s almost like you’ve done your research.”
“I know things,” he says like a four-year-old.
I laugh and put my hand on his chest. “Oh, I know. You’re pretty and smart.”
“Guys aren’t pretty,” Brandon says.
“Wrong,” Cason says. “Guys can be whatever they want to be. If they want to be pretty, they can be pretty.” I eye him, so proud of his values and acceptance of everyone, regardless of the color of their hair, piercings, or choices in life. He is such a sweet guy.
“I want to bake cakes,” Casey says.
“Then that’s what you should do,” I tell him and hand him the beater. It’s big in his hand, so I help him hold it, and soon enough, I give Brandon a turn. It’s easy to tell how much they’re enjoying this whole process by the looks on their faces, although they could just be excited because the end prize is, you know…cake.
Once they finish mixing, I remove the beaters and hand one over to each child. They eagerly lick them. “No eggs, no worries,” I say to Cason.
“Not wo
rried,” he says, and I like how much he trusts me.
“This is yummy,” Casey says and I take the batter and pour a bit into each tiny tray.
“Do we each get our own cake?” Brandon asks.
“Yes,” I tell him and his eyes light up.
“Mommy would never let me eat a whole cake.”
“Just don’t go telling your mother you ate a whole chocolate cake. She’ll kill me,” Cason says with a laugh.
“Tell her it was a tiny cake and she won’t mind.” I slide the cakes into the oven, and the boys keep their eyes glued to the little screen as the lightbulb bakes it.
“I think they really enjoyed that.”
“But you didn’t get to play,” I say and raise my wine glass to my mouth. “I’m happy to have the boys here and I love their fascination, but I wanted you to play with it, too.” I take a mouthful of sweet wine.
“After they go to bed I’ll play with it,” he says and I nearly choke.
“Are you okay, Aunt Kinsley?” Brandon asks with a frown. My heart melts a little with his concern. He’s going to grow up to be a wonderful man like his father and his uncle and I’m trying to focus on that more than on the fact that he called me his aunt, and it’s possible that’s the sweetest and scariest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m their aunt, sure. But for how much longer?
Cason steps away to grab a beer, and with my heart pounding a little harder, I rip into the icing sugar and grab the cocoa.
“Who’s ready for the icing?” A strange groan crawls out of Cason’s throat and I whack him and turn to the boys.
“Me, me,” they both chant in unison and I laugh at the chocolate all over their faces. I don’t think they’ll be winding down anytime soon after all this sugar, but that’s okay. I’m enjoying my time with them and plan to take advantage of every second of it.
We all work together on making the icing, and soon enough the Easy Bake Oven beeps indicating the cakes are ready. I carefully take them out and turn them onto a baking sheet, a little surprised that Cason’s cottage is so well equipped, but guessing the other women had something to do with it. I do like how they all take care of one another here. It’s also really sweet and supportive that they all want to come to the reception in my parents’ garden. Personally, I’m dreading it.
