by Molly Ringle
Livy pulled the parking brake but left the engine running. She looked at Kit. “Did that count as a date?” she asked.
“Our second, I would say. First was at Carol’s.”
“Well, then. Come here.”
He leaned toward her, his gaze slipping to her lips. She met him over the parking brake and kissed his cheek, right at the corner of his mouth. The texture of rough whiskers and the scent of sea wind and masculine skin enticed her to linger a second. His hand cupped her face and held her steady, then he turned and enfolded her in a proper kiss, full on the mouth, but with an exquisitely light touch that brushed tingles throughout her.
“There.” His voice rumbled low, close to her. “That’s what sixteen-year-old me wanted to do to you instead of just borrow your juice bottle.”
Livy grinned. “Is that all he wanted to do.”
“It may not be entirely all.”
She let her nose touch his, then drew back, trying to find her bearings even as the moisture from his kiss still cooled her lips. “You said you’re content with your bachelor life,” she began.
He conceded with a nod. “But I do like some company from time to time.”
“So that’s what’s on offer. Some company.” She hadn’t exactly meant to sound so blunt, but hey, might as well lay this out from the get-go.
He lifted his eyebrows and glanced toward the office. “I’m…willing to have my mind changed. Never know what might happen.” He returned his glance to her, and there was a gentle frankness in it she liked. “Just figured it’s fair to tell you how it usually goes.”
She pulled in her breath, and chewed the side of her lip, considering. “Okay. Well. I can’t promise anything serious right now either, given everything I’ve got going on. But some company…” Their gazes met. “I like the sound of that.”
A spark kindled in his eyes. “Then come here.”
She leaned across and kissed him again, longer and with less restraint.
“Let’s get together soon,” she said, “and you can show me what else your teenage self wanted to do.”
“Yes, please.”
As he kissed her, his hand drifted down to coast across one of her breasts, sending a shiver of pleasure through her. Then he pulled back with a sigh. “Grady’s going to come out here to see what we’re doing any second. I’ll go in. You free tomorrow?”
“I can probably be in town for a long lunch.”
“Perfect. Could show you my place on the island, if you want.”
“Sounds good.” She smiled, though her heart beat hard enough that she felt it in her eardrums. “Oh wait, here—” She hauled her pack out of the backseat, found her wallet in it, and extracted a handful of twenties. “Give this to Grady. His wages.”
Kit took it, and settled his fingers on the car door handle. “All right, although I’m betting he’d gladly do the job for free. Hanging out with a Darwen girl—I know where he’s coming from.” He exchanged a long smile with her, then said, “Talk soon,” and slid out of the car.
Kit scrubbed the stockpot under the kitchen faucet; dishes were his job when Grady did all the cooking, which was nearly every meal lately. Meanwhile his mind told him, Here’s what you really shouldn’t do: a local woman.
Moreover, a local woman he respected and didn’t want to hurt. Far better to stick to the vacationers who were very clear about the lack of strings attached in their hookups with him. But this was winter and there weren’t any vacationers around. And he had been as honest with Livy as he could, and she’d even said she wasn’t looking for anything serious herself, so his hormones really intended to go through with this. Their noise was drowning out the worried rational portion of his brain that asked him to consider how badly this might end.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It could end just as tidily as any of those vacationers.
What about the possibility of telling her the truth? Holy shit, when she’d said she’d heard strange music and voices in the woods, had envisioned “Teeny-tinies” living out there—damn, that was precisely the kind of person he might be able to tell.
Except. Enjoying fireside faery tales was one thing. Honest-to-God belief in a tribe of goblins was another. He had tried to tell exactly one person in his life, not long after he inherited the job. It was the girl he was dating; he was freaking out and needed to talk to someone.
She’d looked at him with the iciest loathing he ever saw, and said, “You know, if you want me gone, you could be man enough to say so, instead of making up some completely idiotic story. I get the message.” End of relationship.
What could he do? Prove it by telling her to go out in the woods alone at night and trying to summon them? First of all, dangerous idea. Second of all, no one in their right mind would say yes to that. Yep, the goblins had their liaisons seriously screwed over. No doubt they laughed their asses off over it every night.
So the bachelor life it was. Congenial sex with no lasting relationships. Apologies about how he had a lot of “issues” and wasn’t ready for anything serious. It sucked.
Although admittedly it would suck more if he didn’t even get the congenial sex.
Grady was being unusually quiet over in the living room. Kit glanced at him, and found his cousin gazing out the window into the night with a vague frown.
“So you’re going back tomorrow?” Kit asked. “To cook for Skye and Livy?”
Grady seemed to awaken. He glanced back at Kit. “Yeah. Same time. If that’s okay.”
“No problem. I talked to Justin today, the guy who used to do the mechanic work while I lived out of town. He’s got a job at the hardware store now, but he can use extra hours, so he’ll come in sometimes if I need him.”
“Good, yeah. I’m sure he’s more use than me.”
“And I’m sure you’d rather hang with Skye.”
Grady acknowledged that with a cautious smile, then returned to gazing out at the dark trees.
While Grady hung with Skye tomorrow, and Justin covered the garage, Kit might be procuring some congenial sex from Livy Darwen. To judge from the way his body revved up at the thought, that wouldn’t suck much at all. At least, he had high hopes it might rock before it started to suck.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT WAS WET THE NEXT MORNING, A JANUARY DRIZZLE A FEW DEGREES ABOVE FREEZING. THE RAIN WAS SO THIN AS TO be almost a mist, a gray gauze shrouding the water. As Grady drove across the bridge to the mainland, he could barely see anything on either side. Even the marina, just down the beach a mile, was now invisible. Two lonely round buoys in the middle of the inlet, one red and one white, were the limit of his vision, and looked like they were hovering on the edge of the world.
His insides cartwheeled in excitement as he carried his latest load of groceries to the Darwens’ door. Livy greeted him, let him in, then dashed off to get ready for work.
Grady entered the kitchen.
Skye was already showered and dressed this time. She sat at the table, sketching. Her pencil flew back and forth in her notebook.
“Hey.” Grady set the groceries on the counter.
She looked up, gave him a nod, and went back to sketching. She had a plaid flannel shirt on today, teal and black, not a baggy skater type but one of those cute tight stretchy ones, with the top two buttons undone. Her damp hair waved loose down her back. In a flash he imagined unfastening the rest of the buttons and sealing his mouth to her warm skin underneath.
He managed not to whimper. He resolutely put the groceries in their places, said goodbye to Livy when she left for work, and found the pots and pans he would need today.
He at least had to cook lunch as he was hired to do before making out with Skye on top of the kitchen table.
Skye could draw a goblin, but she couldn’t draw the goblins seizing her and stuffing fruit pastries into her mouth. She had tried, lots of times, and it ended up like her attempts to write the words: her pencil turned the shapes into something different. What was meant to be Skye on the pag
e became a butterfly or a frog; the pastries became burgers, candy canes, coffee cups.
But Grady was starting to get her. Kind of. So maybe if she used symbolism, he’d understand. Warning him was the absolute least she could do for the poor guy. (The poor, adorable, sexy-smelling guy, her mind amended.)
“So today it’s soup,” Grady told her. “Scotch broth. Sounded good for weather like this.”
She nodded without looking up, finished shading in the cloak on the figure she had drawn, then examined the sketch in full. Not her most polished work, but it would do. She spun it around and pushed it toward Grady.
He scooted aside the measuring cups, and leaned on his knuckles to study the drawing. “Huh. Snow White kind of thing? Looks like an evil queen in the woods, holding a poisoned apple. A very creepy evil queen. Are those fangs?” He looked up at her, and his curious expression altered to concern.
Skye kept staring at him with as much intensity as she could sustain. This is important, Grady. Get it. Understand.
“When you look at me like that,” he said, “I feel like I’m close to the truth.”
She kept looking at him like that. Come on. Please.
“This means something?” He ran his eyes over the sketch again, and furrowed his brows. “You…got hurt? Cursed?”
Breathing fast, she reached across and gripped his wrist.
He snapped his gaze up to hers again. They stared at each other. “In the woods,” he said softly, as if to himself.
Their eye contact stretched out several seconds. She saw he was no closer to understanding, and why would he be? No one in their right mind would look at her situation, her sketches, and say, Ah, I get it, it’s a magic spell, thrown on you by goblins in the forest!
She let her grip on his wrist go limp, and dropped her gaze. It didn’t really matter if he understood right now anyway. He’d find out eventually. Even if he knew the truth, he wouldn’t have any idea how to save them, any more than she did. She just wished she could warn him. She’d feel less guilty.
Grady wrapped his warm fingers around hers. “Then I kissed you. That broke the spell for Snow White, right? I see some similarities here.”
Yes, but for Grady and Skye the kiss did the opposite. Dragged him down into the spell along with her. She blinked back tears.
“It’s all right. You keep sketching. I’ll puzzle you out one of these days.”
He spoke with such gentleness. How could she have done this to him?
In defeat, she pulled her notebook back over.
The urge to speak through art had passed for now. She closed the book and helped him prepare the soup. She echoed words when he talked, enough to make sense as conversation. Then, while the soup simmered, they plopped onto the sofa side by side, and opened the photos on their phones to show each other pieces of their lives. Grady displayed shots of his siblings, his parents, a couple of friends, and his home and hangouts in Moses Lake. Skye showed him last year’s photos, herself and Livy and their mom and some of the cafe employees on Halloween and Thanksgiving.
Grady took the phone from her to look at a shot of Livy and Skye lifting their wine glasses on Thanksgiving, grinning. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. You’re…really beautiful.” He looked at her. “I wish I could make you smile.”
“I wish.” God, she did wish it.
The corner of his mouth curled up. His eyebrow rose too. “Are you ticklish?”
She mirrored the eyebrow lift, a clear invitation.
Within two seconds, he had planted a knee on either side of her, the phones were bouncing onto the sofa cushions, and his deft fingers were dancing up and down her ribs, armpits, and hips.
Stupid fucking curse. Normally she was the most ticklish person alive. Today, though she squirmed and twitched like someone electrocuted, she still didn’t laugh nor even smile.
“Wow.” Grady stopped, letting his weight settle halfway onto her. “Not even with tickling, huh?”
She shook her head. This was comfortable, this position. The heat where he touched her felt like a luxury. He smelled intoxicating, like male skin with fresh whiffs of the celery and parsley he’d been chopping.
Maybe she couldn’t smile. But she could make him happy another way.
She slid her leg outward so that he dropped further between her thighs. He caught his breath and tucked his lower lip under his teeth, his gaze drifting to her mouth. His hands rested on the sofa on either side of her ribs, caging her in. Skye lifted her shirt, exposing her navel and a few inches of skin above it.
He blinked, a flutter of dark lashes, then watched his own hands as they settled onto her bare waist, as if it were the most important event happening in the world. She pulled the shirt one rib higher.
He sank onto her with a long exhalation, and kissed her throat as his hands slid upward. She craved him, felt heat flooding her for him. When he discovered she wasn’t wearing a bra, he groaned against her neck, and pressed hard against her thigh. She caught his leg between hers and squeezed it tight.
“Jesus,” he breathed.
Skye wasn’t lushly curvy like Livy. She’d always been skinnier, and was approaching gaunt these days, what with the stress and vanished appetite during the last month. She could go without a bra because you could do that with A-cups, and she occasionally felt like apologizing when it came time for a lover to place his hands on her unimpressive little breasts. To the boys’ credit, they usually seemed to enjoy it regardless, and Grady’s appreciation of her was blatantly evident.
He caressed her as he rocked slowly against her, his kisses dampened her neck, ears, mouth. Though his breath rose and fell faster than ever, he kept his movements unhurried, as if demonstrating he wasn’t going to push her. The restraint was so luscious that she was provoked into unbuttoning her shirt until it fell open.
That capsized some of his restraint. He leaned his face against her chest, and groaned again. “God, you’re sexy.” Then he lifted his face to squint at her, looking tortured. “Why are we doing this? I’m not supposed to be doing this. This isn’t what your sister’s paying me for.”
“Why?” Skye echoed, using all the skepticism she could muster.
“All right, I mean, I know why. Because we want to, apparently.” At the word want, he glided one of his hands up to cover her breast. “But I feel like I…I shouldn’t.” With great reluctance, he withdrew his hand and pulled the sides of her shirt back over her chest.
Skye understood, sullenly. She was mentally unstable. He’d be taking advantage of a disturbed woman.
He shifted his weight off her, and she tugged herself up and hauled her knees to her chest, scowling.
“I’m not…” she managed to force out, then her tongue refused to work any further. Not mentally ill? Not having psychological problems right now? Not under the spell of aphrodisiac magic? Well, those would all be lies.
Grady, bless him, once again understood her, or at least more than most people did lately. “I know. Believe me, I want you. Jeez, obviously. But I…” He shifted to sit beside her, and ran his hand through his dis-arrayed hair. “There’s been a time or two where I hooked up with a girl too early on in the friendship, and even though it was hot at the time, it was weird afterward, and it kind of ruined things. But I don’t want to ruin anything. I want to be something good for you, not something that makes your life worse.”
Well. She couldn’t have chosen a nobler man to haul into an eternal curse with her. Skye buttoned her shirt, then leaned over and kissed him on the shoulder, more or less chastely. When he cast her a glance, she nodded in acceptance.
His kiss-reddened lips curved again in a smile. “Argh, you’re so pretty. We’ll see how long we can keep our hands off each other, anyway.” He leaned down and treated her to a light nibble of a kiss.
Yeah, better him than a goblin. Or rather, better to become a goblin with him than with just about anyone else she could think of. That counted for something, in a sad way.
Grad
y drew back. “Let’s go check on that soup.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
KIT LEFT JUSTIN IN CHARGE OF THE AUTO SHOP, SAYING HE HAD SOME THINGS TO DO FOR A COUPLE OF HOURS AND would be back after lunch. Though Grady was scheduled to be with Skye till two o’clock, Kit texted him anyway.
Just in case you were thinking of going back to the house between now and 1, don’t.
Uh why? Grady answered. Everything ok?
Yeah, lunch date
lol, ok, sorry I asked. Say hi to Livy for me ;)
Kit changed out of his work clothes, and scrubbed every smudge of motor oil from his fingernails. He met Livy at 11:30 as arranged, at the beachside state park just north of town. She had parked her car there, and stood waiting, balanced on a driftwood log, her long black coat wrapped around her, hood up against the misty rain. When he pulled up and turned off the engine, she strode to the passenger side of the truck and climbed in, not waiting for him to get out and open her door, though he had intended to.
“Hi.” He watched her fit a cloth shopping bag onto the floor by her feet.
“Hi.” She flipped back her hood. “I brought fruit and cookies, though I’m sure whatever Grady made is better.”
“Pretty cheap of me, right? Serving you leftovers I didn’t even make myself.” As if the date was really about food. As if she didn’t know that.
“Nah, I’m looking forward to it.” Her cheeks were pinked up by the chill, and she smoothed back the strands of hair that had escaped her barrette. She looked luscious, and smelled like some sort of perfume that made him picture her naked in a soapy bath.
She surprised him by leaning across and kissing him on the mouth. Then she smiled, bringing out a dimple he hadn’t noticed before. “There. Don’t you hate when you’re wondering if you’re supposed to kiss or not? Now we don’t have to wonder.”
“I like how you think.” He gazed mesmerized at her another few seconds before remembering to turn the truck back on.
