Love You Still

by Kat Bammer

  She ended up alternating between looking out the window into the rose garden and marching up and down in their small office.

  It took a long time until Peter and Mr. Ketley were finished up there. Lisa exited her office when she heard the familiar squeak of the stairs.

  Mr. Ketley carried a single suitcase. He looked forlorn and his eyes were puffy and red. “What do I owe you for the room?”

  Tears pooled in Lisa’s eyes. “Nothing. You owe me nothing.” She gulped air and gave him a quivering smile. “I’m really sorry for your loss, Mr. Ketley.”

  “Thank you.” Mr. Ketley nodded and left.

  “Is he okay?”

  Peter, who stood silently at the end of the staircase, gave a half-hearted shrug. “He just lost his wife. So—no. I’ll meet him at the sheriff’s office—I gotta get going.” He walked to Lisa, gave her a kiss and placed the keys in her hand. “I’ll see you later.”

  She watched him leave. She would have felt better, if she could have shown him the stuff, but there would be another opportunity. At least according to his parting words.

  22

  “Can we go? Cookie really needs to go.”

  Lisa stepped into the kitchen of the Inn but stopped dead in her tracks. “What the hell?” She did a one-eighty. Every surface of the kitchen was covered with either pots, pans, flour or dough. Even the floor was full of flour. The heavenly smell was the only positive thing.

  “I’m in the middle of something, sorry, but I can’t go.” Claire looked a mess too. Flour was splattered all over her, which dyed her hair a very interesting shade of white.

  “In the middle of what? A kitchen-related freak-out? War of the dough?” This was very unusual for Claire. As a sous-chef on the cruise ship, Claire had always run a pretty tight ship. Everything looked perfect, always. The food, the kitchen, the cooks, no mess allowed—usually.

  Claire rolled her eyes. “I just tried this new recipe and then, I got unsure if this is something our guests would enjoy, so I decided to make some backup.” Claire shrugged. “It all got away from me then. I got stressed and…you know baking isn’t my strong suit.”

  Lisa snorted and shook her head. “Everything you ever baked tasted delicious. I really don’t know where this is coming from. And what about the flour? Why is everything, including you and the floor, covered with the stuff?”

  Lisa grinned at the obvious distress of her friend. Claire was always so in-control in the kitchen, whereas she was a complete klutz.

  Cooking was hard. She didn’t have any instincts ingredient-wise and following a recipe bored the hell out of her.

  Also with a chef as her best friend, their roles were pretty much set in stone.

  Claire was in her element when she was cooking—very systematic. It didn’t happen often that she improvised or let her inner creative get away from her.

  “It was just a mishap. Somehow the seal broke. I’ll have it all cleaned up in an instant.”

  When her voice got a panicky edge. Lisa’s face softened, she stepped forward, carefully avoiding the messy spots, and brushed flour off Claire’s cheek.

  “You’re such a dork. Don’t look so scared. This is your kitchen now. Your kitchen, your mess, your business. You know how the kitchen looks like when I try to cook something. So, this”—Lisa made a sweeping motion—“this is nothing.”

  Both girls giggled. “Remember when you made a pudding?”

  Lisa groaned—somehow she’d managed to make it explode. They had to scrape the stuff off of half the kitchen. To add injury to insult, it had tasted like crap too, because she apparently had mixed up salt and sugar.

  “It wasn’t my fault. Who keeps sugar and salt right next to each other?”

  “Well me, apparently.”

  They smiled at each other. They were in charge of their life now. No boss riding their asses, or forcing some system upon them.

  “Isn’t it great to be your own boss?”

  Claire nodded, her eyes misty.

  “So, boss, do your worst; I’ll go walk Cookie, but afterward I’ll help with the clean up.” Lisa backed out of the kitchen and walked through the lobby to the front door. She got dressed in her jacket and dashed back into their office to get a flashlight and her trusty Spyderco knife that had arrived this afternoon with the rest of their stuff. They did a happy dance when their stuff arrived. Now, there was only one way forward.

  The only thing Lisa really missed from her former life was diving, but she would soon visit her old diving instructor Marty to get back into that. Maybe she could even include diving to the recreational activities they could offer their guests.

  This was an area of improvement for the Inn. To gain guests and give them more bang for their buck.

  Lisa hesitated when she opened the door. The promise she gave Peter, not to go out alone, rang in her ears, but she had Cookie with her, so technically she wasn’t alone and it was just on the cusp of nightfall, so technically it wasn’t yet dark.

  When she turned the corner of the Inn, the wind chilled her through her jacket. Maybe she shouldn’t go to the small wood behind their property. Maybe she should just walk along the street.

  But Cookie obviously liked her routine, and before she could make the decision, the dog had already entered the line of trees. She passed the cottage and could see her mother moving around behind closed curtains. It must be hard for her, being the sole caregiver to her dad. Lisa tried to help as much as her mother let her. And somehow their intense focus on her dad had gotten them into an easy rhythm of Lisa visiting daily and them having coffee together. Surprisingly their conversations were…friendly.

  Maybe her mother was so relieved she’d taken over the Inn she refrained from criticism. At least for now.

  Lisa looked up at the sky. Thick clouds blocked out the remaining light and she switched on her flashlight as she entered the trees. It wasn’t a big wood. The trees just stretched from their property to the highway a few hundred yards away. Thank goodness for that—the trees absorbed all the noise from the cars speeding by. The wood had a small path, that circled right through it. Perfect for walking the dog or a short morning walk for their guests.

  Another strong gust of wind made the trees sway forcefully and Lisa’s stomach rolled. She didn’t want to die just because one of those damn trees fell down on her. She divided her attention between the path in front of her and the trees. When another forceful gust howled, the swaying trees grew louder and her breath quickened and her pulse spiked. This was wrong—she had to get out of the wood. She called Cookie, but the dog was somewhere up ahead. The noises grew more and more eerie. Perfect horror-movie soundtrack. Lisa tried not to go into a full-blown panic. Her imagination could run really wild if she let it, so she avoided watching horror movies altogether. Those she did watch with her sister Karen, stayed with her, and she could really freak herself out just by thinking of one of them. This train of thought quickly took her to thinking about the serial killer Peter had told her about.

  She still didn’t understand how something like this could happen in Moon Lake. This was her home, the safe haven of her childhood. Not somewhere a serial killer was on the loose.

  Okay, that did it, now she was really freaking out.

  Lisa was jogging now, carefully stepping over roots and branches.

  She tried to think of Claire and the kitchen mess, but every cracking noise made her choke with panic. She was nearly at the edge of the small wood; she could already see the lights of the Inn—just a few more steps. She broke out into a run, her imaginative mind playing tricks on her, until she reached Cookie, who’d stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Hello.”

  Lisa froze. A man stepped out behind a tree directly in front of her. He had a huge, dangerous-looking dog on a leash beside him.

  “You walking your dog?” the man asked.

  Lisa couldn’t really see his face and features, and she didn’t dare direct the cone of light from her flashlight into his face. />
  She didn’t know this stranger. Could she outrun him? What if he trained the dog to chase people? She wasn’t able to make up her mind, so she just froze.

  “You gonna talk to me? Or just stand there and freak out?” He laughed and Lisa gripped her throat.

  Well, that ship has sailed, she was already beyond freaked-out.

  “Hi….” Lisa cleared her throat. “Hello, do I know you?” She fumbled with her knife which was stuck in the pocket of her jeans.

  “Hm, you’re Reynolds’ little girl.” He stepped forward and the sound of her heartbeat thrashed in her ears. She moved her flashlight up and into his face, which blinded and stopped him.

  “I drove you from the airport to the hospital, do you remember? It’s Anton Smirnov?” He advanced farther and she took a step back.

  “You were very unfriendly that day. But I understand. I hear your dad came home from the hospital. How’s he doing?”

  Oh God, Lisa didn’t know what to do, but running was on the forefront of her mind. His dog growled, as if he had read her intentions and Cookie took the opportunity to run off. Now she really was alone.

  “Are you afraid? You don’t have to be. I was a good friend of your father.” Somehow that fact didn’t reassure Lisa at all.

  “Well, I don’t know you. I have to get back to the Inn. My friend is waiting for me.” Lisa held back her breath.

  “Is that so?” He moved forward again and was now directly blocking her route out of the wood.

  What the hell? Why did everything this man say make alarm bells ring in her head?

  “Yes, it is, so if you’ll excuse me.”

  Now was the time to run. Lisa took a deep breath, ready to make a mad dash to the right side.

  “Is there a problem?”

  23

  Lisa and the man with the dog were so fixated on each other, they both hadn’t heard or seen him coming.

  “Peter.” Her exhale was more a sob. All the tension of the last few minutes fell away and her hand, with the flashlight, shivered uncontrollably. No way to hide this.

  “And who are you?” Peter said and stopped next to Lisa.

  “Hello, Peter, Anton, Anton Smirnov,” the stranger answered and after mere seconds, they both shook hands.

  “Met her here in the woods, didn’t think it was a good idea for her to go about it alone, but I think Rufus and I frightened her to death,” Anton said, pointing at Lisa.

  She looked down at the dog which now lay there next to its owner. It looked bored, not a bit terrifying like before.

  “Thank you, but I’ll take over now. You should hurry on home; it’s about to get wet,” Peter said.

  Anton looked at Lisa one more time. “Miss Reynolds.” He bowed, then turned around and was swallowed up by darkness in a matter of seconds.

  “Are you nuts?” Peter turned to Lisa, bristling with anger. “I specifically asked you not to go out alone. This is no fairy-tale land, Lisa.”

  She remained silent.

  “Are you just irresponsible or do you have a death wish I should know about?” Peter’s voice turned into a deep, angry growl. Barely contained anger wafted in waves of heat from him. And when he got into her face and frowned at her, a blush crept across her face and she looked down.

  What could she say? He was right. She had been so frightened when Anton showed up. Too frightened to get her knife out of her pocket. If he had been the killer, she could be dead by now.

  Well, that was a sobering thought.

  So, she deserved the third-degree Peter was giving her. He was right.

  He grasped her shoulders and she thought he would shake her, but instead he pulled her to his chest.

  Tears pooled in her eyes when she pressed herself deeper against his body. They stood like this for a long time.

  “Don’t do something like this again, promise me?” He caressed her hair and nibbled on her ear.

  “I promise.” Lisa inhaled deeply, her nosed pressed against his chest.

  “I can’t lose you again. So please be careful.”

  Lisa’s eyebrows shot up. Lose her? Again? He hadn’t lost her. He had pushed her away.

  Before Lisa could say anything about this, a wet drop landed on her head.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Peter took her hand and the flashlight, and together they stepped out of the wood. After a few steps the rain turned into hail.

  “To the workshop.”

  They both ran straight for her parents’ cottage.

  Peter held the door open for her and Lisa searched for the light switch in the darkness.

  Finally, she found it and switched it on.

  They were both drenched.

  Peter shook off the water like a dog and looked positively gorgeous all ruffled up and his soaking-wet T-shirt sticking to his abs.

  “Thank you, for saving me. I was really scared back there,” she said but Peter interrupted her. “Don’t get me started again, it was stupid. Don’t do it again. End of story.”

  He took her in his arms.

  “Are you wet?” His eyebrows waggled.

  Lisa snorted with laughter. He was really a dork. “Yes, I’m soaking wet.”

  Peter just smiled. His eyes turned sultry when their lips neared.

  Lisa’s humor subsided, replaced by warmth radiating through her body and a fluttering in her stomach. Whoa, this never turned old. Then finally their lips met. The kiss turned hotter and deeper, and soon just kissing wasn’t enough for her. She scrambled to get Peter’s T-shirt off him, and he peeled hers up and over her head, before their lips met again.

  Then he moved down, down her throat, her chest, sucking her left bud through her soaking-wet bra and then moving on to the right one. He went down on his knees and she held onto his head, sure her knees would give out any moment.

  The path of kisses started again at her belly button and while his mouth, on its way south, left goose bumps in its wake, his hands popped open the buttons of her jeans.

  One delicious pop after the other.

  Lisa groaned when Peter peeled down her wet jeans. His mouth pressed against her mound the whole time and her core clenched when she felt his tongue through her panties.

  “Lisa?”

  “Hmm…”

  “You gotta help, I don’t…”

  Lisa opened her eyes, she looked down and blinked once, twice, then laughter bubbled up inside of her. Peter on his knees in front of her. His sexy pecs shiny and wet, his hair standing up because of her fingers, not able to get her wet jeans off.

  “Oh, never mind.” He stood up, swept her in his arms, and carried her to the old, wooden workbench where he sat her down. From there he made short work of her jeans and panties and when he covered her core with his mouth as if he was a starving man, every thought she had went out the window.

  Peter’s perfect rhythm of sucking and caressing brought her to the brink of orgasm in mere seconds. Then his tongue found just the right spot and he pushed her over the edge.

  Lisa opened her eyes again and admired the flex of Peter’s muscles while he got up, pushed down his jeans, and pulled a condom out of his wallet which he threw on top of her jeans.

  Lisa’s eyebrows shot up. “So sure of yourself, hah?”

  Peter chuckled. “Just hopeful, is all.”

  He then pulled it on, while he nibbled along her left earlobe. He pulled her against him, his hands gripping her bottom. Her core spasmed when he slowly made his way inside.

  He took a deliciously long time and there was no holding back. She groaned when he skillfully pushed her to another orgasm and then followed her over the brink.

  When Lisa came down again a couple minutes later, her eyes fell on his jeans. Still around his ankles.

  She chuckled.

  Peter leaned slightly back and lifted his head from the nape of her neck.

  “What?”

  She gave him a swift kiss on the lips.

  “Nothing, it’s just…” She shook her head, to cle
ar the last cobwebs out of her mind. “You still got your shoes and jeans on, is all.”

  Peter raised his right eyebrow. “So, now you’re mocking me?”

  Somehow Peter looked almost menacing, but Lisa couldn’t pass up the chance.

  “Yes, I am, mocking you.”

  “You just wait.”

  This sounded promising and a little thrilling at the same time. But then he handed Lisa her panties and jeans, and just grabbed his wallet, took a step back, and severed their connection.

  She jumped down from the workbench and grabbed her panties while Peter pulled his jeans up to his thighs.

  He’d already buttoned up his jeans and gotten rid of the condom while Lisa was still struggling. It was a pain to get back into her damp jeans.

  He kissed her on the cheek and handed Lisa her T-shirt then turned back to the exit.

  “The rain eased up a little. At least no more hail.”

  Lisa’s eyes fell on the tool cabinet. Right next to where they’d made love just a few moments ago.

  She thought of the serial killer again.

  “I have to show you something.” She didn’t think there would ever be a good moment to show him, but maybe the afterglow would mellow him out a little.

  “What? Now?”

  “Yes, now.” She went to the tool cabinet and took out the papers. She laid them on the workbench, like the first time she’d discovered them and, full of expectation, looked at Peter.

  “What?” He hadn’t moved an inch and was still standing by the door.

  “Would you please look at these papers?” She placed her hands on her hips.

  Peter crossed the small space and stood right next to her. “What is this?” He shuffled through the papers, looking at them and then at her.

  “I’m not sure. I found these and couldn’t make sense of them at first.”

  He looked at the papers again, really digging in this time; he unfolded the maps, flicked through the old newspaper clippings.

  “When did you find this?” He glared at her with cold, hard eyes.

  “A while ago,” she replied reluctantly.