by Cathryn Fox
“Being the youngest in a house of boys was not fun. Brutal, actually.”
She chuckles uneasily. “What did they do to you?”
I press my palm to my forehead and shake my head. “You don’t want to know.”
She leans toward me a little. “Oh, but I do.”
“Where do I begin? Okay, well, they used to love to play hide and seek with me.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“That one wasn’t dangerous. I used to hide and cover my mouth to stifle my giggles because I was sure I was so damn good at it. Or at least that’s what my brothers always told me.” I give a humorless laugh. “When I finally came out of my hiding place, I’d find them downstairs playing video games. They told me I was so good they had to give up. It took me a while to figure out they were ditching me.”
She laughs. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. That was mean.”
“We used to play king and guard, too. Have you heard of it?” She shakes her head no. “Of course not. They made it up.” She eyes me, waiting for me to explain. “My brothers would take turns being kings and order me around. Mainly I was doing their chores for them.” Kira covers her smile with her wineglass and takes a small sip. “Go ahead and laugh,” I say, and she does. It’s contagious, and I can’t help but laugh with her.
“Here’s one they had fun with.” I lean toward her. “We’d all get ten chicken nuggets, right? They were our favorite, and we’d eat out once a week. My brothers would take turns playing the chicken nugget game.”
“Oh no, do I want to hear this?” She tugs her lip between her teeth, and my gaze falls to it for a brief second.
“Hey, you opened this can of worms.”
“Oh, please tell me there weren’t worms.”
I laugh. “No worms, but what they’d do is challenge me to see who could eat ten nuggets first. I would go up against a different brother each week, and I’d always win.”
“Really?”
“Sure, because one of the others would point out that if they helped me eat five, then I only had to eat five against the brother eating ten. So every week, one of my brothers got fifteen nuggets, and I only ever got five.”
“Oh, Nate,” she says chuckling. “Your brothers were horrible.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
Jenny brings our food, and Kira and I go silent for a moment as we take our first bites. I dig into my lobster macaroni and savor the flavor.
“How’s yours?” I ask.
She dips her spoon in again, blows on the chowder, and slides the utensil into her mouth. My cock twitches as her lips part, and when she makes a sexy bedroom noise, I shift uneasily.
Down boy.
“Sooo good,” she practically moans, and for a second, I visualize her saying that to me while I have her in my bed.
Think of something else, Nate.
“There was a game called Best Bad Chef, where I had to eat things they made and vote one the worst, but the worst was when they took up boxing. Can you guess who became the punching bag?”
Her hand slides across the table and closes over mine. “Oh, no.”
“I learned how to take a punch, that’s for sure, and I learned how to give one.”
“They could have killed you.”
“That might have been the plan.”
Spoon halfway to her mouth she asks, “Where the heck were your parents?”
“Dad was rarely around, but things changed for me when my mother, who was his third wife, finally came from her room, caught on to what her stepsons were doing, and tried to put a stop to it. Tried being the key word here.” But by that time, she was sad and lonely with Dad on the road so much and spent most of her time locked away in her bedroom.
“Third wife?”
Fuck, why am I telling her all this? I’m considering my answer, not wanting to go into the details, when Jenny pops back to see how our first bites were.
“Fantastic, as usual,” I say.
“Best chowder I ever had,” Kira says, and Jenny smiles.
“I’ll be sure to let the chef know.” She spins and heads to the kitchen.
“About that third wife,” Kira says, taking us back to where we were cut off.
“My mom was Dad’s third wife,” I say. “There were others after her. Although, he finally stopped marrying them and just cohabitated.”
“Are you close with your mom?”
“No, I haven’t seen her in years.” I’m pretty sure my mother only stayed as long as she did out of obligation to me. Once I was old enough, able to take care of myself, she disappeared. It broke my fucking heart, honestly.
She blinks. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“What about your brothers. Are you close to them?”
A few more locals come into the restaurant, and the cold breeze from outside swirls around us.
“Not so much,” I say. “We live all over.” Not wanting to talk about me, I say, “So you and Gram were close?”
She smiles, but behind it, something lurks deeper.
“What did you guys do together? I’m guessing it wasn’t cooking. Her kitchen is still standing, after all.”
“Hey!” She gives me a death look, and I laugh. “I had the gas too high and burned dinner. Anyone could have done it.” She smiles and adds, “Gram and I used to bake together. It was one of her favorite things to do. She’d bake so much we’d have to deliver cookies to half the neighborhood. We also painted.”
“You paint?”
“I did solo paintings, and Gram and I created masterpieces together.”
“I’d like to see them.”
“You already have. The paintings on her walls at the B&B were done by her, or by both of us.” Her smile fades for a brief second, but she recovers quickly, and we fall into easy conversation for the rest of the meal. Once we’re done, I pay the bill, despite her insisting on splitting it. She only concedes when I offer to show her how to use the stove and let her cook next time.
Back in the truck, she goes a bit quiet, lost in her thoughts again. I leave her be, and I’m about to pull into Gram’s driveway when my cell phone pings. I glance at it, see my father’s number, and choose to ignore it. I don’t need an earful tonight, not after enjoying a lovely meal with Kira. It’s been a long time since I had…fun.
Her brow is furrowed, and she’s clasping her purse when I turn back to her. “Something on your mind?”
“You could have answered,” she says, meaning the phone. “I don’t mind.”
“I can deal with it later.”
“Was it…Bridgette?” she asks hesitantly, her voice low and unsure.
“Bridgette?” I laugh, and she looks away. Wait, does she think I’m with someone else? “You want to meet Bridgette, Kira?”
“I…uh.”
I park my truck in Gram’s driveway beside Izzy’s car. “Come on. Sooner or later you’re going to find my secret out, anyway.”
Chapter Five
Kira
I slide from the passenger seat, completely uncertain, the muscles between my shoulders tense. “Look, Nate. Your secrets are yours,” I say. Damn, he doesn’t need to share anything with me. All we did was have a meal together. I have no intention of talking to him about my work, or other, more private matters, like the second key I need to deal with and the promise that’s behind it. “I don’t need to meet Bridgette.”
“It’s not like you have a choice,” he says, the corner of his mouth curling up. “I’m sure she’s already here. It’s right about that time.”
Having no idea what he’s talking about, I tug the coat around me tight as we walk to the back of the house. I step ahead of Nate in the dark night, and he grabs me, pulls me back against his chest. I let loose a little yelp as I land on solid muscle. His hands slide ar
ound my body, to steady me, and I become acutely aware of the heat gathered between my legs.
“Watch out,” he says in a low tone, his mouth near my ear, his heat washing over my face. I’m about to open my mouth when the back-porch motion-activated light kicks on, and I come face-to-face with a cow. A great big freaking cow with a bell around her neck and a large, wet black nose inches from my face.
“What the hell?” The cow sticks out its big fat tongue, and I duck out of the way. It slurps the side of Nate’s face and nearly knocks him over trying to get close.
“Bridgette, Jesus,” he says and uses the sleeve of his sweater to wipe away the streak of saliva. “Haven’t we talked about this?” Nate wraps his arms around the gigantic cow for a hug, and she makes a very happy mooing sound as she pushes against him.
“Jeez, and you didn’t even have to buy her dinner first.” I toss his words back at him, and he bursts out laughing.
“Kira, meet Bridgette.”
“Hey, Bridgette. Nice to meet you.”
Her head turns my way, and she steps toward me, nearly knocking me over. “Bridgette is blind,” Nate explains.
“Blind?”
“Yes. Her calf Ellen, who should be here any second to collect her, will take her home. They live next door. Bridgette kind of has a—how do I put it…”
“A crush on you?” I start laughing. “Bridgette’s boy. Now I get it. Oh my God, I really am in the Twilight Zone.”
“Yeah, it’s a little embarrassing,” he says.
“Actually, it’s pretty adorable.”
“She took to me when I first moved in, and well, what can I say?” He rubs his hands over her body, and she pushes against him.
Unable to help myself, I say, “You’re a cow whisperer.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as saying that.”
“I know I haven’t been here since I was a teen, but so much has changed.”
“Maybe you just didn’t notice how different this place was when you were young.”
I shrug. I suppose it’s possible. “Runaway horses, lobster for currency, and a blind a cow with a crush.”
And this has become my life.
Is it strange that I kind of like it?
Yeah, probably.
The door opens, and a woman with short spiked hair, and tattoos over both her arms and neck peeks out. I falter backward, not because of her presence, but because she reminds me of the girl who bullied me in high school. The girl had had a rough upbringing and liked to take it out on those who were different, like me.
“Am I interrupting your make-out session with Bridgette?” she teases. “Oh, hey,” she says when she sees me. “You must be Kira. I’m Izzy.”
“Nice to meet you, Izzy. Word spreads fast.”
She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “These guys. It’s like living with a bunch of gossiping frat girls.” Something moos behind me, and I jump. Izzy, though, waves a dismissive hand like it’s nothing. “That’s just Ellen. She’s here to get her mom home safely.”
Am I the only one who thinks this is strange?
“I’ll walk back with them,” Nate says.
“Bye-bye, lover boy,” Izzy says, laughing and cups my elbow to bring me inside. I glance around the kitchen. The pan with the burned chicken is gone, and the place smells delicious. “I made cinnamon rolls, to get rid of the burning smell,” she says. “Come on, have one.”
My stomach is still full from dinner. But Izzy seems nice, friendly, and eager, so I sit at the table.
“Are they ready?” someone calls from the top of the stairs.
Izzy gives an exasperated sigh and offers me a big sister look that I’ve only ever seen in the movies and never experienced firsthand.
“Children,” she says, with an eye roll.
“Wait, you have children, here?” I ask. A longing moves through me. Children aren’t practical in my world, and it’s not fair to have one if you can’t be devoted. I know that firsthand.
“Yeah, a houseful,” she says, laughing. “Four to be exact.”
Sam, Jason, and Cody come rushing into the kitchen, and I laugh as understanding dawns. The fourth child is walking a cow home.
Jason hovers over the pan, and Izzy whacks his hand away when he tries to pull a bun free. “Wait! I have to frost them first.”
Jason slinks to the table, and I shrug out of Nate’s coat just as he comes through the door, a frown on his face as he shoves his phone into his back pocket. I want to ask if everything is all right, but it’s not my place, and from his forced smile when he sees us all sitting there, I can tell it’s not.
I wrap my arms around myself, a chill in my bones. Will I ever get used to these temperatures? I’m sure I won’t be around long enough that I’ll have to. A strange niggling of disappointment comes out of nowhere and slides over my skin. Then again, maybe it’s just frostbite nipping at my flesh.
Wait. Where will these fishermen go if I sell this place?
“Gram’s recipe,” Izzy says, as she pours a generous amount of what looks like cream cheese icing over the top. She cuts them up and hands them out.
“Hey, Sam has more icing than I do,” Jason says, and she gives me that exasperated sigh again, but it’s easy to tell she loves it.
“See what I mean?” she says to me.
I grin, loving the comraderies between this eclectic group. Jason tries to switch buns with Sam, but Sam pushes him away.
“Fuck off, man.”
Nate was right. Sam does swear like a sailor. I steal a glance at Cody, but he’s too busy stuffing his face to involve himself in the fight. He seems more the strong, silent type to me.
“You can have another,” Izzy says. “You have to eat all of that one first.”
“Are you cold?” Nate asks quietly as he leans into me, his warm breath washing over my flesh. The little hairs on the back of my neck stand, dance a little, and sparks zap through my body. I take a fast breath and let it out slowly. My God, can the other people in the room see what this man’s proximity does to me? I run my hands over my arms to wash away the goose bumps that have nothing to do with the cold.
“I am.”
“I can help you light the fire in Gram’s room.” He shakes his head. “Wait, I guess I should start calling it your room.”
“I probably won’t be here long enough for it to really be my room,” I say. If I can sell the place sooner rather than later, that is. But I’m well aware that moving a place this time of year won’t be easy, but I’d like to be back home by December. “But yes, thank you. I’m not sure how to do it. Gram didn’t have a propane fireplace years ago.” I tear a piece of the bun and put it in my mouth. The flavor explodes on my tongue. “Izzy, these are amazing,” I say.
She beams at me. I know we’re going to get along just fine, which is nice. I don’t have many, or any, female friends. But I have exchanged emails with Khloe, a research professor at the local university here in Nova Scotia. She was interested in my theorem, and we talked for a bit. She said if I was ever in town to give her a call. I might make a trip to Dalhousie University and meet up with her, check out her research. It would be nice to have a female colleague.
I work to stifle a yawn, exhausted after a very long week of driving. As everyone chats around the table, Nate pipes in, “I don’t think we should keep Kira up any longer. She’s had quite the day.”
I turn to him. “I appreciate you saving me twice and showing me where to find the best seafood chowder. But you’re right—I am exhausted and think I’m going to call it a night.” Everyone nods, and I push my chair back. “Nate, if you wouldn’t mind helping me light that fire.”
Sam grabs a deck of cards from Gram’s old junk drawer, and my heart squeezes tight. How many times had Gram and I played cards around that same old table? A mixture of fond memories and loss tightens i
n my stomach.
“You okay?” Nate asks, his knuckles brushing mine as he steps up to me. Once again, I react, little jolts of need zinging through my body.
“Yeah, fine.” I make light of it and gesture toward the cards. “Gram and I played a lot.”
He nods. “Is that how you became so good at it?” he asks.
“It is.” It’s not a lie. I did become good at cards when I was young, but my mathematics background, and my ability to count cards, and solve probability also helps, but I leave that part out.
“You guys keep it down, okay,” Nate says.
“Sure thing, boss,” Jason says.
I place my hand on the old railing, smooth and worn from age. A smile tugs at me. “When I was little, I used to slide down this,” I say.
“That’s how I get downstairs every morning,” Nate says, and I chuckle.
“Now that I’d like to see.” I turn and look him over. A large overhead chandelier lights up his unique green eyes, and I take in his body. The man cleans up nicely. “You’d probably break it.”
“Excuse me?” He feigns hurt. “What are you trying to say, Kira?”
“Oh, nothing,” I tease, and yawn again as I run my fingers over the rail. “You’re just…big.”
Big?
Really Kira?
But I do wonder about other parts of him. As inappropriate thoughts hit, my gaze slides downward, and there isn’t a single thing I can do about it.
Stop checking him out already.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
As soon as those words leave his mouth, I envision me in bed with this man beside me, pinning me to the mattress the same way he pinned me to the ground earlier, touching my body with his hands, his mouth. I shift my focus to the vibrant wallpaper Gram put up along the stairs years ago. Back home, my walls are plain white. Vanilla. Like my life. Sex included.
Not that I have a sex life.
I had one awkward experience in my first year of university, and I’m not in a hurry to repeat that. I’m practically a virgin for God’s sake, but everything about this hot guy begs me to change that. Bring a flash of hot red into the picture. But surely to God, he wouldn’t be interested in a boring girl like me, right? Interested in a bit of a fling while I’m visiting? I glance over my shoulder in time to see his eyes lift from my backside.
