The Troublemaker

by Cathryn Fox

  I find my clothes and dress as she hurries to the shower. Downstairs I get the coffee going and pull my phone from my pants. I do a quick search on the property she’s interested in and make sure she’s not coming down the stairs when I make a call. I want to surprise her with this.

  “I’m all set,” she says. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She eyes my phone as I turn from her, not wanting her to hear the tail end of my conversation.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there,” I say to the manager of the building. I end the call and shove the phone in my pocket.

  “Everything okay?” she asks.

  “Fine.”

  She jerks her thumb toward the door. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

  “Yeah, my place so I can shower quickly and change.”

  She hesitates for a second, a frown on her face, and I get it. Her douchebag ex walked out on her, and left her a little broken. But I’m not going anywhere. Not for the rest of the month, anyway.

  “C’mon,” I say and capture her hand.

  Forty minutes later, after a fast stop at the market to get all her fresh ingredients, we’re inside the tight quarters of her food truck. I kind of like the way we keep bumping into one another.

  “So this is what it’s like back here.”

  She grins. “Hot, tight, and slippery—”

  I groan to cut her off and she closes her mouth and gives me the side eye. “Stop, you’re turning me on,” I say and adjust my cock in my jeans.

  She laughs and puts her hand on my chest. “Slippery if you’re not wearing the right shoes, and you’re not, so don’t fall, because I can’t afford a lawsuit.”

  “I’ll be careful.” I glance around. “What do you want me to do first?”

  “Okay,” she says going into professional chef mode. “We need to get all the vegetables prepared.” She checks her watch. “We open in an hour, and that’s when things really get rolling.”

  I dig into the box to pull out the produce and spend the next hour washing, cutting, and filling the trays. Beside me, Kinsley cooks and prepares all the meat. It’s amazing watching her work, doing what she loves most. How can her folks not see that this is where she belongs? Well, she actually belongs in her own restaurant and damned if I’m not going to help that happen.

  “Want to play a game,” I say.

  She flips the chicken. “Working here, Cason.”

  “We can work and play.”

  “What do you want to play?” she asks, her focus only half on me.

  “How about two truths and a lie.”

  She chuckles and the sound wraps around my chest and squeezes tight. Man, I love seeing her happy like this. I want to put a smile like that on her face every day.

  “Are you twelve?” she asks.

  “You’ll play then?”

  “Fine. I’ll go first. Let me think.” She removes the chicken from the grill, and goes quiet, lost in thought as she grabs a sponge and washes down the dirty dishes. “Okay, when I was young my sisters hung me from the clothesline. Two, I had an aversion to pizza during my teen years.” My head jerks back. I can’t believe that. All teenagers love pizza, don’t they?

  “And three?”

  “And three, I never knew sex could be so good until Vegas.”

  I puff my chest up. “I know that’s not a lie.”

  “Maybe that’s the lie. Maybe I’m playing into that huge ego of yours.”

  “Nah, it’s true. I tasted you and felt you squeeze around my fingers and cock, remember?” I say, and she goes bright red as she tosses a wet sponge at me. I grab it and set it back in the sink. “I’m going to go with, hung from the clothesline.”

  “Wrong,” she says. “They did and I fell and it hurt like hell.”

  “No way.” That’s like child abuse. “Where the hell were your parents?”

  “Working, of course. My sisters were supposed to be taking care of me.”

  “Seems like we have working parents in common. But I was a lot nicer to Nina than your sisters were to you.”

  “Yup, they locked me in a suitcase once. It’s a wonder I’m not claustrophobic. I don’t see them much anymore. They both work in Manhattan now. I’m their only daughter left here in Seattle, and if my parents continue to pressure me about my choices, they’re going to drive me away, too.” She shakes her head. “Okay, now you.”

  “All right. When I was young, I wanted to be a police officer.”

  “Hmm,” she says.

  “Two, I lost my virginity at fourteen, with Josee Fraser, in her parent’s basement. I think we were watching Veronica Mars.”

  “Truth,” she says. “Although I would have guessed thirteen, and just so you know, most times when people give too much detail it usually means they’re lying.”

  “Look at the lawyer in you coming out.” I laugh and give her hair a little tug.

  “Okay, what’s your third?”

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

  Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, much like her hair. “Thanks, Cason,” she says. “Sometimes you know, you really do say the right things.”

  “Maybe that’s the lie,” I tease.

  “You jerk,” she says and throws the sponge at me again. This time I’m ready so I dodge it and pull her into my arms for a kiss. “I never wanted to be a cop,” I say. “I wanted to be a hockey player since the day I was born.”

  “And you are, and that is so amazing, Cason.”

  “And you’re a chef. You’ll get what you want too, babe.”

  I let her go, and we go back to preparing food, and talk about nothing and everything, and it’s weird how natural it feels being with her like this.

  “It’s go time,” she says once we have all the food prepared, and goes about opening the truck. I stand back and take in the whole process from inside the truck instead of outside on the sidewalk.

  Soon enough the crowds form, and she gives me a quick rundown on how to prepare the burrito bowls. The two of us work together in sync, like it’s something we’ve always done, and once we got the lunch crowd served, we start the whole process over for the dinner crowd.

  “You know this is kind of fun,” I say as I stuff my face with a chicken taco.

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  “I love watching you work, and damn these are good.” I hold it out to her and she takes a generous bite.

  “That was a mouthful,” I say, teasing her from our earlier conversation.

  She chuckles and sauce spills down her chin, and I slide my finger over it. “So messy.”

  She leans against the counter, and an overhead fan nearly falls on her head. I move quickly to grab it. “Shit, Kins. That would have hurt.”

  She frowns. “I know, I fixed it once, but the screws keep coming out.”

  “I’ll fix it for you,” I say and examine the screws. “Do I have time to make it to the hardware store before you open again?”

  “I can open without you. I ran this truck for months on my own.” She sighs. “You’ve done enough, Cason. You don’t have to come back.”

  I pull her into my arms, my groin pressed against her stomach. “Don’t want me?”

  “Oh, I want you. But you don’t have to be here. You probably have other more important things to do. I mean, on the phone this morning, not that I was trying to listen in, but—”

  “Nothing more important than this,” I say, and her protest dies an abrupt death when my lips close over hers.

  “Get a room already,” someone on the sidewalk says, and we turn to find Cole and Nina standing there, with my two awesome nephews, Brandon and Casey, named after me, of course.

  “Hey guys,” I say, and lean over the counter.

  “What are you doing uncle Cason?” Brandon asks, as he frowns up at me.

  “Helping out a friend. You guys want a taco?” I ask.

  Nina glances at Kinsley. “Is he being a nuisance? He was always underfoot in the kitchen growing up.”
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  Kinsley laughs. “He’s been pretty good, actually.”

  “Hear that Neaner-Neaner,” I say to piss her off and she glares at me.

  “The tacos are on uncle Cason, boys,” Nina says. “Drinks, too. Order whatever you want.”

  I laugh at that. “A dozen tacos coming up,” I say. “Go grab a seat at the bench, and I’ll bring them to you.”

  As they saunter away, Kinsley and I make the food, and I put it all on a tray. “Come on,” I say. “Come sit with us for a bit.”

  “No, they’re your family, Cason. I’m not going to interfere.”

  “Listen wifey, get your sweet buns off this truck. You’ve been on your feet all day, and you’re taking a break. Husband’s orders.”

  “Fine,” she says and takes off her apron. We walk to the picnic table, and I note the way Casey is staring at Kinsley. You never know what’s going to come out of the mouth of a two-year-old.

  “I like your pink hair,” he says, and Kinsley smiles at him.

  “Thank you, Casey. I like your t-shirt.”

  “I like Paw Patrol,” he says as I hand out the tacos and napkins.

  They all start to eat, and Nina moans. “Kinsley these are so good.”

  “Excuse me,” I say. “I believe I made that one.”

  Nina rolls her eyes at me and turns to Kinsley. Nina takes her hands. “Your ring is so gorgeous. Mom is going to love it.”

  “Oh, we’re not telling your parents,” Kinsley says, and Nina frowns. “We don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

  “Do your parents know?”

  “Yeah, because Cason is helping me out with something.”

  As the two talk, I glance at Cole, note the way he’s looking at me, like I’m going to cut and bail anytime now. I resist the urge to give him the middle finger and tell him to fuck off because my nephews are here so I take a different approach.

  “How’s my Hemi?” I ask, my voice low. “Keeping her nice and clean for me?”

  “Yours? It’s not yours,” Brandon says. Jesus, that kid doesn’t miss a thing.

  I nudge him. “I know buddy, just playing with your Dad.”

  “You’re going to come then?” Nina asks Kinsley, and I turn my focus to them.

  “If my assistant is back, yeah, I’d love to. I think it would be fun.”

  “You talking about the cottage?” I ask.

  Nina nods. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “So tell me what’s going on with you two?”

  “You know what’s going on with us,” I say, even though I’m not exactly sure what’s going on with me, because I’m beginning to really like my time with Kins. Beginning to wonder if we could have more after our month together. We’re having fun, I know, and I’m not supposed to be having deeper feelings, but dammit if I can help that. Maybe I’m saying the right things, because we were friends first—and a part of me knows she could be the right girl for me. Maybe I won’t fuck this up, like I fuck everything else up. Then again, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. She’s anti-marriage, right? But could there be a chance she might want to try for more?

  “I want the details. I might be able to use it in a book,” she says.

  Kinsley laughs. Hard. “No, Nina, your books end with a happily ever after. That’s not what’s going on here. Cason is just helping me out, then we’re done.”

  At least that answers my question.

  12

  Kinsley

  “You sure you got this?” I ask, holding my phone to my ear as I pace inside Cason’s big mansion. It was just a few days ago Kat called in sick, and here I am asking if she can take over the running of the truck—again. I haven’t had a break in a year, working seven days a week, and now here I am taking my second vacation this month, and heading to Cason’s cottage—with a handful of wedding receptions for his friends.

  “Yes” I got this,” Kat says. “I’m feeling perfectly fine now, and Jason is up for giving me a hand. He might only be seventeen, but he’s an aspiring chef and this will do him good.”

  I met her brother Jason. He’s a good kid, and I really shouldn’t worry so much. My truck will be in good hands, but maybe that’s not what I’m worried about though. Maybe I’m worried about going to the lake with Cason, and falling just a little more in love with him. I sigh, and Kat must have misread it.

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “For sure I do, Kat.”

  “What’s wrong then?”

  I lift my gaze when Cason comes into the living room, and my heart beats just a little faster in my chest. He raises his brow, and I nod to let him know the weekend is a go, and Kat is feeling better. He gives me two thumbs up and I chuckle.

  “Nothing wrong,” I fib. “I really appreciate this, Kat.”

  “You just remember that when you open your new restaurant, and need an assistant.”

  I chuckle. “I’m pretty sure there’s a promotion for you and a position for Jason.”

  She lets loose a loud whoop, and I hold the phone away from my ear. “Okay, go. Have fun. We got this.”

  We end the call, and Cason wraps his arms around me. “Everything in order?”

  “All set to go,” I say and he angles his head.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  I plaster on my best smile, and put a rope around my emotions, to rein them bad boys in. Cason puts his big hand on my cheek, the sweeping of his thumb stirring those barely leashed feelings growing inside me.

  “Just worried about my truck,” I say.

  “Understandable. At least we know the fan won’t fall and kill anyone.”

  I follow him to the front door, and he scoops up my duffle bag. There’s another bag in the back seat of his car, one I stashed there earlier without him knowing, and it excites me.

  “I really appreciate you and Cole doing all that work on the truck. You didn’t have to do that. I actually feel kind of bad. This marriage seems so one-sided.”

  He chuckles. “It’s not, but if you really and truly feel that way, this weekend you can show me how appreciative you are.”

  I laugh at that. “Didn’t I do that last night?”

  His smile curls through me, warms me from the inside out. “Yeah, you did. But I want more.”

  God, I want more, too, but not just in the bedroom.

  We head outside, the late day sun falls over us, and we climb into his car. “We have to make a pit stop,” he says.

  “Oh, where?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  I take in his mischievous grin. “I don’t like surprises.”

  “You’ll like this one.” He reaches for my hand and takes it in his. His warmth shimmers through me, and I smile. Even though I know I’m going to end up heartbroken, I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. “You’re smiling.”

  I chuckle. “Something wrong with that?”

  “No, Kins. I love when you smile.” He turns his focus to the traffic, and I take in the buildings as we hit downtown Seattle.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask.

  “What part of “it’s a surprise” didn’t you get?” I pull my hand from his and whack his chest and he lets loose a fake oomph.

  A few minutes later he parks, and I stretch out my legs as I climb out. With my hand back in his again, he leads me down the street and when we take the corner I know exactly where we’re going. He leads me to the rental space, and I stop at the door.

  “Why are we here?” I ask.

  He pulls a key from his pocket and jangles it. “Because we’re going to check out the space.”

  I gasp, surprised and a little nervous. “How did you get that?”

  “I have connections,” he says.

  “Really?”

  “Well, no,” he says and laughs. “But I made a few calls. pulled a few strings, and voila.”

  “This is what you were up to the other day when I heard you on the phone?” He nods, and my heart wobbles in my too tight ches
t. “You are so sweet, Cason.”

  “Shh,” he says and glances around. “I have a reputation to uphold you know. Can’t be letting anyone on the ice think otherwise that The Troublemaker isn’t going to knock their teeth out if they mess with him or his teammates.”

  I chuckle but it holds no humor. Nibbling on my bottom lip I back up an inch and fold my arms across my chest. My heart thumps against my hand. He reaches for me and our bodies mesh as he wraps his arms around me. “What’s wrong?”

  I exhale sharply. “I…just don’t want to get my hopes up, you know.” He frowns, and that’s when I realize my mistake. “I’m not saying you’re going to bail before the thirty days. I’m not saying that at all.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I just…what if after thirty days my father still doesn’t think I’m worthy of my trust fund? That I’m going to blow through it, or that investing it into a restaurant is a mistake?”

  His brow furrows and his eyes hold a measure of sadness when he says, “I’m worried about that too, Kins.”

  I blink, a little surprised by that. “You are?”

  “I’ve met your father.”

  I nod. “Yeah…”

  “You want to do good things with it. You’re responsible, and giving, and work harder than anyone I know. I don’t know why he can’t see that.”

  “He doesn’t want to. He’s punishing me for rebelling against what he wanted me to do with my life.”

  “It’s your life, Kins. I hate that he dangles that trust fund like a carrot, so he can control you.” His eyes search my face. “What if we found another way, a way where you don’t have to feel indebted to him.”

  “I’ve been to the banks. I have zero collateral.” I give a very unlady-like snort. “My father certainly won’t co-sign a loan.”

  “I figured as much.” He sits on the small window ledge and pulls me between his legs. “Will you let me help you?”

  My breath stalls. Is he suggesting what I think he’s suggesting? I give a fast shake of my head. “Cason, no—”

  “Hear me out.”

  I try to back up but he holds me to him, squeezing me with his legs as my hands disappear into his, his rough calluses scraping against the back of my fingers. “No, Cason. No. Never.”