Hooked on You

by Cathryn Fox

  He blinks, and nods. “Yeah, man. There are shells all over the ground.”

  Kira touches my arm to get my attention, and I jump like I’d been tasered. Her head rears back at my overreaction, but her touch… Fuck, man, her touch goes straight to my dick, and makes coherent thought near impossible. She pulls her hands away fast, and I get it, I’m a total douche bag. I started this, now I’m trying to hide the fact that I nearly took her to my bed, and that hurt look on her face is like a punch to the gut. Yeah, she deserves way better than that.

  “I…that must be the noise I heard earlier,” she says.

  “Right,” I say. “What time did you hear it?”

  “Around three. I looked at the clock. I thought it might have been one of you guys home early, even though I didn’t see a car in the driveway.”

  I nod. “What I don’t get is why anyone would want to egg Gram’s house? Everyone loved her, right?”

  Jason cracks his knuckles. “Whoever did it is going to have some explaining to do. To my fist.”

  “Show me,” I say, and slip my boots on at the back door. I follow him outside, walking around the shells on the ground to glance up to Kira’s bedroom window where sticky, half-frozen egg coats the glass.

  Kira comes out, too, hugging herself as the cold air sweeps over us. She begins to pick up the shells. “Leave them,” I say. “Go on back inside, Kira. It’s cold out here. Jason and I will clean this up.”

  From the side of the driveaway, Sam’s car, with its ridiculously loud muffler, pulls in. His door slams, and he comes around back. When he sees us all standing there he says, “Christ, gas just went up again. I think the pumps should come with porn clips, so you’re not the only one getting fucked while filling up.” Jason laughs, and Kira’s eyes go wide. As if realizing we’re all standing around outside in the cold, some of us underdressed, Sam’s eyes narrow, and he says, “What’s going on?”

  “Someone egged the house,” I say.

  “What the fuck? Who would do that?” Sam takes off his ball cap, scrubs his hand through his mess of dark hair, then readjusts the cap on his head.

  “No clue,” I say.

  “Maybe it’s someone who doesn’t want me here,” Kira says quietly. She points up. “It looks like they specifically aimed for my bedroom.” She shivers, but I get the sense it’s not from the cold.

  “Who wouldn’t want you in town?” I ask. “Did you make enemies here when you were young?”

  She goes quiet and glances down in thought. “I don’t think so. I was home alone when this happened, though. I don’t even think I even had the door locked.”

  “No one locks the doors around here when they’re home,” Jason says. “Even when they’re not home.”

  Off in the distance mooing reaches our ears.

  “Looks like your girl heard your voice,” Cody says, coming around the corner. He goes still when he sees us all. “What’s going on?” I point upward to the window and he follows my gaze. “Shit man. Who did that?”

  “I’ll go see Bridgette in a bit. Let’s get this cleaned up first. Jason can you grab the ladder from the shed.” I cast a glance Kira’s way. “Would you mind filling a bucket with warm soapy water, and I think there’s a sponge under the sink.”

  “I’ll help her,” Sam says.

  Kira and Sam disappear inside, and when Jason goes for the ladder, I glance at Cody. “Any clue?”

  “Nope.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and kicks some of the shells into the surrounding woods. They’ll decompose so I’m not too concerned about them.

  “Maybe they had no idea it was Kira’s room. Maybe they thought it was yours,” I say.

  He grins at me, knowing exactly where my thoughts are going. He’s been breaking hearts around town for as long as I’ve known him. One of his girls might not be so pleased about that.

  “Come on. This isn’t about me. Kelly’s not still holding a grudge. We patched things up the other night. If you know what I mean.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Yeah, I’m not an idiot.”

  Jason comes back with the ladder, and leans it against the house, as Sam materializes with the bucket and sponge. I take them from him and head up the ladder. “You guys go on inside. I got this,” I say, partly because I want to clean it for Kira, and partly because I need a minute alone after that near kiss that could have led to so much more.

  Kira is a nice girl, a girl who deserves better than me, and when it comes right down to it, I’m not looking to get involved with Gram’s granddaughter, no matter how strong the pull is between us. Fuck, man, I’m pretty sure I never felt such tension before. It was so damn thick and heavy it made breathing near impossible. Or that could have been the heart palpations. My heart hadn’t raced like that since I kissed Carrie Bell in the closet in eighth grade, during our seven minutes in heaven.

  I carry the bucket up the ladder, set it on the top rung and dip the sponge in. I wipe the window and smudge the eggs. Putting a little more manpower behind it, I rub harder, until I make a bit of progress. Once I get it all wiped up, I head back down the ladder to find Kira standing there.

  I jump. “Jesus, you scared me.” I glance around, but we’re the only two standing in the cold. “You should be inside,” I say.

  “I just…about what happened…” she begins.

  I wanted her, still do, but when she blurted out that she was inexperience she might as well have just dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. Jesus, she’s so fucking sweet and innocent, and that’s all the more reason for me to keep my distance. “I shouldn’t have started that, Kira.” That same gut-wrenching hurt look crosses her gorgeous face again. “It’s not you. It’s me,” I say.

  Lame, Nate. Real fucking lame.

  I glance past her shoulder, and Bridgette is coming our way. I gesture with a nod. “Looks like Bridgette got out again. I’ll take her back, save Ellen the trouble.”

  She nods, and if I could I’d kick my ass for starting something I shouldn’t have. A raging, painful hard-on for the next month would hurt less than the wounded look in her eyes.

  The back door creaks as she heads inside, and I meet Bridgette on her way to Gram’s place. “Hey girl,” I say, and she pushes her head against me. “Time to get you home.”

  I turn her around and make my way to the neighbor’s. Jack Veinot is clearing snow from his back deck.

  “Jack,” I say as I take Bridgette back to the barn.

  “She get out again?” the elderly man asks. He grunts. “Don’t know what I’m going to do with her. Sorry for all the trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.”

  The back door opens, and the pinging of video games follows Jack’s wife Martha from inside the Veinot home. Guess the grandkids must be over.

  “Is she bothering you again?” Martha calls, and tightens her loose hanging sweater around her body.

  “I don’t mind. As long as she doesn’t wander to the road, she’ll be fine.” I open the door to the barn and send her in. Ellen lifts her head from the hay she’s eating and rushes up to her mom. I suppose in good time she would have made her way over to collect her, after she finished eating. I close the door, and I’m about to head back when Jack’s voice stops me.

  “Heard Kira was back and is selling Margaret’s place,” he said.

  Shit, word really does travel fast around these parts. “Yeah, she’s hoping to get it listed soon.”

  “Never thought Margaret wanted to sell the place. Far as we knew, she wanted to keep it in the family.”

  “I guess the family had other plans,” I say.

  “Guess so,” he says, and gives a slow shake of his head. “Folks around these parts aren’t going to like that too much. Margaret would be rolling over in her grave if she knew.”

  It does make me wonder about the eggs. Is Kira making enemies? Would some
one go so far as to harm her, to drive her out of town? Shit. Worry tightens my gut.

  “Someone egged the house,” I say.

  Jack arches a brown. “You don’t say. Doesn’t seem like something anyone around here would do.”

  “Not at all,” Martha agrees.

  “Maybe it was just some kids,” I say, not wanting to think anyone would have done that to Kira deliberately. “I’d better get back,” I say.

  Fresh snowflakes fall as I wave goodbye, and by the time I get back to the house, the table is set and Sam is balancing his chair on the back two legs telling some dirty joke that has everyone laughing, Kira included. She lifts her head when I enter, and Izzy is pulling the meatballs from the oven. A bottle of beer dangles from Cody’s fingers as he stirs the sauce, and Jason is cutting the baguette. It’s so odd how this group has come together to form a functioning family-like unit, so different from the one I was brought up in.

  “Hey, Izzy,” I say. “I guess you heard about the eggs.” She scowls as she drops the meatballs into the sauce, and the fact that she’s home and not at the bar having drinks with the locals doesn’t go unnoticed. I wash up in the sink and grab a beer from the fridge. “Who wants a drink?” I get a few mumbled responses and pull out a few more beers to hand them out. “Kira?” I ask.

  “Sure,” she says, and I uncap one and hand it to her. When I do, our fingers connect, and a hot bolt of lust grips my dick. I swear to fuck, the electricity arcing between us is enough to light up the house in a blackout, which is a good thing, considering the way the wind is messing with the power poles and the lights keep dimming.

  The pipes creak, and it reminds me of the mice. “I’ll foam the foundation after dinner, and fix your trap,” I say to her.

  “Thanks,” she says, and I step to the stove to help Izzy dish out the pasta.

  “You’re home early,” I say to her quietly.

  “I could smell this sauce from my barstool at the Anchor.”

  “Where’s Heather, tonight?” I ask, and she frowns. Heather is the owner and head bartender at the Anchor, and she and Izzy have been on and off for a while now.

  “Working,” she says gruffly, and I guess this is their “off” week. “She told me people are pissed that Gram’s place is being sold. Folks aren’t too happy with Kira.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression from our neighbors.”

  Izzy and I have a thing for the underdog. I don’t know her history but get the sense that she was bullied as a kid, the way I was by my brothers. Sometimes I can’t even understand why I try so hard with my family. It’s not like any of them think I know what I’m doing. But I’m not going to let that stop me. Fuck, with my background and education, I could get any CEO position with a snap of my fingers. But my great grandfather built this business—a strong, proud man who worked every day of his ninety-two years. I always admired his tenaciousness, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep this conglomerate thriving and profitable for the next generation of Lancasters, and for the people we employ.

  “Don’t worry, though,” Izzy says. “I set her straight, and soon enough it will be all over town that Kira doesn’t want to sell but has to.”

  I smile at her. “We can always count on Heather to get the word out.”

  “Don’t think the folks around here aren’t going to do something about this.”

  The lights dim again, and we all go still, but they flick back on. More pipes creak, and Kira hugs herself as she glances around like a mouse could jump on her any second.

  Izzy sets the plates on the table, and we all eat. Conversation turns to work, as it usually does, but when I catch the way Kira is trying to follow along, but not able to, I change the subject.

  “Do you guys know Kira has never played in the snow?”

  “No fucking way?” Sam says. “When I was at the pumps getting fucked earlier, Frank told me a storm was coming soon.”

  “His knees bothering him again?” Jason asks and we all chuckle.

  “Seriously, you’ve never been tobogganing?” Cody asks, his brow furrowed like he can’t wrap his mind around that.

  Kira finishes chewing, takes a sip of her beer, and says, “Never. I mean I’ve seen lots of snow in other places, but I grew up in Victoria, and we only ever got a dusting that doesn’t last long. I’ve never made a snowball, or a snowman.”

  “It’s on,” Sam says as I take a mouthful of beer.

  “And by the way, a winter coat miraculously appeared in the closet. I plan to pay back the person responsible,” she says her gaze going straight to me. I look away and whistle innocently. “There is a third jar on the Credenza, it’s not needed.”

  Sam, Jason, Cody, and Izzy exchange a look, and while I’m not sure what they’re scheming, I’m pretty sure it has something to do with the house.

  “It’s not for the coat,” Jason says quietly, and pops a meatball into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything more.

  “You know I nearly lost my left nut on a sled when I was a kid,” Sam says, redirecting the conversation.

  I choke on the beer and it stings my nostrils. “Fuck, Sam,” I say, my damn eyes watering. “Couldn’t you have at least waited until I swallowed.”

  “That’s what she said,” he exclaims loudly and groans sound from around the table as he laughs hysterically at his own joke. “Seriously, though, I was on one of those thin crazy carpets. You guys remember them, right?” We all nod, and he quickly slides one palm over the other, mimicking the way he must have been flying down the hill. “Wrapped my legs around a tree.” He pops a meatball into his mouth, and around it says, “Was in the hospital for a week.”

  “Did the same thing,” Izzy says. “Damn near lost my virginity.”

  Everyone laughs, and I slide a gaze Kira’s way as her words ping around inside my brain. She said she was inexperienced. I don’t know any women her age who haven’t had sex, but then again, I’ve never really met anyone like her before. Is it possible that she’s a virgin? I think she very well could be, and hell, I’m not going anywhere near that. I’m not the kind of guy she should give it up to.

  We talk about winter activities, and the crew take turns telling her about the Pumpkin People festival, where pumpkins are painted to look like famous people, placed on top of stuffed clothing and scenes from movies are recreated. They do everything from Star Wars, E.T., to The Goonies, and it draws a huge crowd. Kira seems quite fascinated by the eccentric small-town culture.

  We finished eating, and we start to clear the table when a soft knock sounds on the back door. Since we’re all accounted for, I have no idea who it might be. Sam pulls the door open, and on the other side, there is a young girl, maybe around the age of fourteen, standing there holding a basket filled with muffins. The smell fills the room.

  “Is Kira here?” she asks, and all eyes turn to her.

  “I’m Kira,” she says.

  “I’m Amber McMurtry. We live down the road, and my mom made these for you.”

  “Come in, come in,” Kira says as plates clank on the counter. She ushers the girl in and accepts the basket. “How very thoughtful.”

  “Mom wanted to come and say hello, but she’s fighting a head cold and didn’t want to share the germs. When she’s better she wants to invite you over.”

  “That sounds lovely, and it’s very nice to meet you, Amber. These look delicious.”

  She beams up at Kira. “I helped make them.”

  “Then we should all have one.” Kira holds the basket out, and we all take turns reaching for a big blueberry muffin. Amber has one, too. “Mmm, these are delicious. I’ll have to get the recipe.”

  Amber laughs. “It’s Gram’s recipe.”

  “Then I must have it around here somewhere.”

  “You do.” She steps up to one of the cupboards, opens it, and pulls out a binder. “All her recipes
are in here.”

  “That’s where I got the one for the cinnamon rolls,” Izzy pipes in.

  Kira smiles at Amber. “I take it you and Gram were close.”

  “We were,” the girl says. “We used to bake and paint together.”

  Warmth moves into Kira’s eyes, but behind it, I spot something else. Something resembling guilt and pain. She clearly misses Gram deeply. But why the guilt?

  “The painting that’s hanging in the living room of the studio with the ocean in back is my favorite.”

  “Come with me.” Kira reaches for the girl’s hand, and as everyone tends to the muffins and dishes, they step into the other room. I hover at the doorway and watch the exchange between the two. Kira’s own parents might not have been natural nurturers, but I’m guessing she got those traits from Gram. “You mean this one?” Kira asks.

  “Yes. I’ve always loved it.”

  “I bet Gram would want you to have it,” she says, taking it from the wall. The paint behind it is still a vibrant shade of yellow, displaying how much the walls have faded over time.

  “No, I can’t take that,” she says and waves her hands.

  “Gram would want you to. I’m sure of it.” I push off the doorframe. Yeah, Kira is definitely too sweet for a guy like me.

  “Thank…thank you so much,” Amber says, her voice breaking up a bit.

  “Let me cover it, so it doesn’t get damaged from the snow, and then I’ll drive you home.”

  “It’s not far. I can walk.”

  “Not with this you can’t.”

  They come back to the kitchen, and Kira digs a big black garbage bag out from under the counter. Amber helps her slide the painting in, and Kira says, “I’ll be back shortly.” She pulls a set of keys from her pocket, shrugs into her coat, and disappears out the door with the young girl in tow.

  “How’s the house coming?” Izzy asks.

  “I’m about to head on over there to check it out,” I say, though I wasn’t until she asked. A breath of fresh air will do me good. I reach for the tea towel, and Izzy ushers me away. “Go. You cooked. We got this.”