by Robin Kaye
Jax watched Kendall push an overloaded grocery cart to the truck. It looked like he’d be eating damn well.
The first thing she handed him when he got close enough was his billfold. “It’s probably a good thing you can’t count, because I just did a lot of damage.”
He stuffed his wallet into his back pocket and grabbed the economy-size toilet paper threatening to slide off the top. “I don’t know if I should be excited about the prospect of more good food or worried about your need for therapeutic cooking.”
Kendall didn’t say anything; she just bit her lip and helped him stash the groceries in silence. He went to return the cart and found her waiting impatiently behind the wheel with the engine running.
He didn’t say anything for miles. He did his best to count mile markers, trying to remember the order of numbers he saw swimming in his head when he closed his eyes. He did his best to hold the familiar feeling of panic at bay; he’d rather deal with that than deal with Kendall’s lip-chewing shutout. She drove in silence for a long uncomfortable while. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re being unusually quiet. No pointing out mile markers? No telling me how fast you’re going?”
“You hate when I do that.”
It was the truth, but anything would be better than watching her abuse that poor bottom lip. “What’s the matter?”
“Maybe nothing’s the matter. Maybe I’m just PMSing.”
“Are you?”
She looked at him and laughed. “Usually when a woman brings up PMS or cramps, men shut up and leave them alone.”
“Not if you’re related to my sister, you don’t. You can’t. She’d chase me down and tell me every gory detail. She’s even made me go out in the middle of the night to buy her tampons and chocolate, and one time she forced me to pick up her birth-control pills. There are some things big brothers are not supposed to know—his sister’s choice of contraceptives is one of them—but nothing is sacred with her.”
He knew his face was flaming, but at least it got Kendall laughing again and, for a moment, chased the shadows out of her eyes. “You’re under no obligation to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you, but if you want to, I’m here.”
“I just want to go home.”
So did he. Home. He let the word roll around his mind and tried to remember what it felt like to walk into his place in Chicago. Cold and impersonal were the first two words that came to mind when he pictured stepping into his apartment after a long day at work. It held all the warmth one would expect from walking into a hotel room.
The cabin might not be his legal residence, but, for now at least, it felt like what he thought home was supposed to feel like. It was full of memories of spending boys-only weekends with his dad, doing guy stuff—like drinking his first beer. It’s where his dad taught him to shave, told him about women and sex and love and the responsibility that comes along with all three. He remembered the day he and his dad picked out that horrible couch for the hunting cabin. He’d wanted the bigger one, but his dad refused to buy it. He didn’t agree then but now had to admit his father’s reasoning had been sound. When he’d asked his dad why, his old man told him that he’d known Jax would end up sneaking girls up to the cabin, and, in his experience, it was a lot easier to get a girl in trouble on an innocent-looking couch than it was to talk her into bed. His dad bought the small, uncomfortable couch so Jax couldn’t get in too much trouble with the girls on it. Turns out the old man was right. Jax never did get lucky in the cabin. But then his parents had been killed, and he and Rocki had been sent away to different boarding schools. Ancient history.
Now he was a grown man, and the cabin was old and run down, but with Kendall there, it felt different than it had before. And while that feeling made him want to pack his bags and run, at the same time, he dreaded leaving. Being with Kendall felt too good. Unfortunately, in his experience, nothing that good survived. And when that feeling died, all that he would be left to deal with were the scars. He didn’t need any more scars, but, then, it was probably already too late to come out unscathed. Shit, his head hurt.
“I bought a pack of cards.”
He groaned. “Why?”
“To play strip poker. Why else do you buy cards?”
“Gee, let me think. . . . How about to teach a brain-damaged guy numbers?”
She slid a sideways glance. “Think of it as multitasking.”
“You just want to get me naked.”
“Maybe.” She shot him a smile, and just like that his dick danced in his pants.
“What caused the sudden mood change?”
She shrugged and pulled off the highway onto the track to the cabin, and stopped to put the truck back in four-wheel drive. “I just thought of something that made me feel better about life in general.”
“I’m afraid to ask what that could be.”
“Chicken.”
“Maybe, but whatever it is, I’m hoping it has something to do with all that food you bought.”
*
Kendall hauled in the groceries while Jack brought in the building supplies. Every time he stepped off the porch, his gaze swept the clouds gathering in the distance and heading their way. “Looks like it’s going to be a doozy of a nor’easter.”
“Sounds like it too. It was the talk of the grocery store. But don’t worry—I bought plenty of milk, bread, and toilet paper.”
“I knew I could count on you to think of the necessities of life. But if you knew about the storm, why didn’t you mention it to me?”
She shrugged. “I knew as soon as you heard, you’d be anxious to get home and finish working on the roof. Your worrying wouldn’t get us home any sooner.”
He pulled a few sheets of drywall out of the bed of the truck, set them on the top of his booted foot, and shook his head.
“Problem?”
“No. I find it funny that you think you’ve got me all figured out.”
He didn’t mean funny as in ha-ha; he meant funny as in weird. “Don’t I?” She grabbed four more grocery bags. “I am a professional. Or at least I have a license that says I am.” She looked him up and down, trying to imagine him naked. “It’s not that difficult.”
He took a step closer, drywall and all. “And what exactly have you learned?” His deep voice sounded loud in the sudden stillness around them. It was as if the earth were holding its breath, waiting for the storm to hit.
She didn’t think this was the time or place to mention that he could turn her on just by breathing, or that she’d somehow acquired an insatiable lust for him—one she’d never felt for anyone before. He’d figure that out all by himself in due time. “I’ve learned a lot of things about you, but mostly that you’re a ridiculously good guy with a very strong moral code.”
He let out a breath he seemed to be holding and looked equal parts relieved and disappointed.
“Lucky for me”—she put on what she thought was a sexy smile—“I’m a code breaker.”
Kendall didn’t wait to see his reaction. She didn’t need to; the choking behind her said she’d hit her target. She took the last of the groceries into the house and dug through the bag of personal items containing the three boxes of condoms she’d bought. It was the first time she’d ever purchased condoms—David had always handled that when they were younger. Kendall hadn’t known what size to get, so she bought a selection—choosing the largest box she could find of medium, large, and extra large, since she couldn’t imagine a guy as big as Jack needing a small. She ran to her room and stashed them in the bedside table before Jack returned.
The clerk’s eyes had just about bugged out of her head as she rang up the condoms. She probably thought Kendall was opening a brothel. “Gag gift,” Kendall had explained, and smiled innocently. The whole innocent look was way too easy to pull off for her peace of mind. Her lack of experience had never bothered her before; after all, she and David had been each other’s firsts. He’d never complained, and she’d never felt as if she’d
missed out on anything, until she met Jack. Kissing Jack had been an experience like no other—just the thought of it was enough to leave her squirming in her seat. She’d never before experienced that much heat and intensity. Now she wondered what else she’d missed.
“Earth to Kendall.”
She turned to find the object of her erotic musings talking to her. “What?”
“Are you okay?” He came closer and felt her forehead. “You look a little flushed.”
No doubt. “I’m fine.”
Jack trailed a finger down the side of her face and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Are you sure?”
She dragged her gaze from his and cleared her throat. “Positive.”
“If you don’t need help putting away the groceries, I’ll get to work on the roof. I need to get it dried in before the storm hits, so we don’t lose another ceiling.”
“I know. Go ahead. I’ll square away everything in the kitchen and then make dinner.”
She put away all the food, reorganized the now-overflowing pantry, and then scrubbed the unpolished terra-cotta tiles with kosher salt, hoping her idea would work, because she’d had a killer craving for pizza. Since her pizza stones were gathering dust in her kitchen in Boston, she knew she’d have to improvise. She laid the tiles tight against each other, lining both oven racks. They overhung the rack just a hair, but if the door closed, it might actually work better than the too-small pizza stones she’d always used. The tiles certainly increased the surface area. Visions of bread making flew through her mind and made her mouth water. More space meant larger pizzas, and when you were feeding a guy who ate as much as Jack did, that was a good thing. She held her breath and closed the oven door. It worked.
Kendall did a little happy dance and measured out enough flour to make two large pies. She loved baking bread and making dough; all the stirring and kneading were great outlets for stress and frustration. And that was something that had been building since she’d opened her eyes that morning. The banging coming from the roof did nothing but remind her of the dream she’d woken to, the kiss that left her hot and needy and humiliated, the condoms in her drawer, and the man on the roof. She blew out a breath and took out all of her sexual frustration on the dough. At the rate she was going, she’d need to make a hundred crusts to center herself.
Two hours of cooking, cleaning, and laundry later, she pulled on a coat and stepped outside, picking her way around the cabin, following the trail of packed snow until she saw Jack standing on the roof. She didn’t bother asking him how he was doing; she could tell from the set of his shoulders all was right in his world. Lucky man. “Question.”
“Shoot.”
“How do you feel about anchovies?”
“Love them. You?”
“Same.”
“Anything else?”
The first flurries were already falling; the roof would be slick in no time. “How’s it coming?”
“Almost done.”
“Be careful you don’t fall off.”
She ran back inside and started on a Caesar salad. If Jack loved anchovies, he’d probably like that too.
*
Jaime sat in his office with his back to the door. He entered the part number into the computer and then added the time for labor. He’d found out years ago that if he wanted to concentrate on anything—especially stuff he hated, namely paperwork—he had to have his back to the action.
The hair on his neck stood on end, and when he took a breath, he knew why. He cringed and didn’t even bother to turn around. “Addie, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too.”
“That’s not an answer to my question.” He turned to look at her—it was a Mud Brown Day. Man, that was worse than Sweatshirt Gray. She wore a long, shapeless skirt; those ugly faux UGGs she favored when the weather went bad; and an oversize, shit-brown hoodie. Her hair was long, and if she’d done something with it, it could have been pretty. Today it looked like a bunch of five-year-olds had used it as a paintbrush. “What the hell happened to your hair?”
She shrugged as if she didn’t care that she looked more ridiculous than usual. “Today we were finger painting.” She held up her hands to display that every color of the rainbow was stuck under her short nails. “If you think that’s bad, you should see my smock.”
“There’s some decent soap in the shop—go scrub your hands with it. It’ll get anything out from under your nails. Your hair is above my pay grade.”
“I didn’t come here to wash up.”
“I know that. What I don’t know is why you’re here.”
She came in and frumped her way to the seat opposite his desk. “I’m worried about Kendall. There’s a storm coming, and I’m not sure she has enough food.”
Food was the least of her worries. “I let her use my truck to go to Concord today. She wanted to pick up a few things at the grocery store, and I needed a part—it was a twofer.”
“But she’s all alone in that cabin.”
“There’s propane heat, a gas oven, a woodstove, and oil lamps. If the electricity goes out, she can always melt snow to flush the toilet. She’ll be fine.”
“But she’s alone.”
“She knows where I am, and I told her to just leave the truck by the cabin in case she needs anything else. Hell, I’m not going to need it.”
“Is she okay?”
He shrugged. Kendall was way better than he was at the moment. Hell, she was probably having great sex to boot. Unlike him. He hadn’t been with a woman since setting eyes on the walking, talking wet dream he’d been about to hit on, until he’d realized it was Addie. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. It had been three months. Three long, sexless, frustrating-as-hell months, and it was all her fault. “Kendall seems fine.”
Addie didn’t look like she believed him. She had that men-are-clueless-Neanderthals look about her. She didn’t know the half of it. She would never suspect that all it took was a whiff of her damn shampoo to give him a stiffy and that he’d spent more than a few nights doing nothing but picturing her naked.
“I think maybe I should go check on her.”
“Not a good idea. Kendall wants to be left alone, Addie. She did everything she could to get rid of me when I stopped by.”
“Well, that’s understandable. After all, what’s a man know about a broken heart?”
“What do you know about it?” He saw a flash of pain in her eyes, but it was gone so fast, he thought he’d imagined it.
“None of your business.”
He needed to get closer to her. And, yes, in the past three months he’d not only embraced celibacy, but he’d also discovered he was a fucking masochist. He rose, stood in front of her, and leaned back against his desk, looking down at her. “What if I want to make it my business?”
“You what?” Addie looked dumbstruck and pissed. She waited until she got totally torqued before she rose and was nose to chest with him. She was the perfect height for him to catch the scent of green apple in her hair. She couldn’t step back because the chair was right behind her, so she tipped her head up and glared.
“You heard me.” Man, she had the most kissable mouth. He hadn’t noticed it until she’d walked into that Boston bar with it painted hooker red. But looking at her lips now, even slightly chapped, made him want to kiss her. He couldn’t fight it anymore. He gave up.
“And what do you think you know, Einstein?”
“I know what you’re hiding under those clothes. I saw you that night in Boston with Kendall. And, like it or not, I can see you now too. I wanted you then, and I still want you.” He expected her to be angry at the admission; he’d been trying to avoid her for months. When that didn’t work, he’d hoped to hell she’d be interested.
She laughed in his face. Not just a chuckle either—a full-throated laugh that sounded sexy as hell, even if it felt awful. Yeah, he hadn’t expected that.
She fell back into her chair and hugged
herself, as if she were laughing so hard, her stomach hurt.
“Oh, that’s a good one, Jaime. I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t me.”
“It was too.” He put his hands on the armrests of her chair and leaned into her, and her scent surrounded him. “You can deny it all you want, but you and I both know I’m right.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Apparently.” He might be crazy for wanting her. Little Miss Virgin Kindergarten Teacher. Hell, she even taught Sunday school. But he’d tried to forget about her for three months, and he was done. “Go out with me.”
“Right. So everyone in town will know? I don’t think so.”
And what was wrong with that? He was hardly a leper. “We don’t have to go anywhere in town. We can go to Concord or to Boston.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to get to know you.”
“You’ve known me all my life. You’re going to have to come up with a better one than that. Besides, I don’t need to be the laughingstock of Harmony. Just cut the crap, Jaime, and tell me if the lane up to the hunting cabin is plowed.”
“No, it’s not. And it’s snowing already. Did you get new tires yet? Last time I looked, your tread was low.”
Addie rolled her eyes and pushed him away from her and the chair, forcing him back against his desk. “My tread and everything else about me is my business, not yours. Besides, you’re the only one in town who sells tires, so you know I didn’t.”
“I thought you might have gone to Concord. Why don’t I order some for you? I’ll put them on right after the storm. You need to stay off the lake road until I get a chance to plow it. With the storm coming, I doubt I’ll get to it until after the weekend.”
“What do you have against me going to visit Kendall?”
“Nothing. Why would I care either way?”
“I don’t know, but I know something is up.” She crossed her arms over the chest he’d been dreaming about for three months, the same one he hadn’t known she’d kept hidden all these years. “Do me a favor and have Kendall call me, please.”
