by Cathryn Fox
He mumbles a reply and quietly closes the bathroom door. I tap on Jason’s door, and relay the same message. I glance in Cody’s room, but he’s already up. I don’t dare wake Izzy before her time. She’s a total bear, and it’s possible she’d go straight for the gonads with her steel-toed boot.
I reach the kitchen and find Cody drinking coffee, eating a muffin, and playing some game on his phone. He nods his head, and I fill a mug and help myself to one of the muffins. The crew all come down one by one, and I have a cup of coffee on the table waiting for Izzy. She grumbles some reply and checks her phone as she sips quietly.
Sam drops into the chair. “You know we can’t let her sell this place, right?” he says, getting right to the point this morning. He must have been stewing on it all night.
I look at him over the rim of my coffee cup as I take a drink. “We don’t have a choice. Gram left this to Kira’s mother, and she wants it sold.”
“What if we can raise enough money for a down payment?” Sam suggests.
“Are you saying you want to buy it?”
“No, but we can hold a fund-raiser or something, help Kira buy it.”
“Kira is only here temporarily,” I remind him. “She doesn’t want the responsibility of running a B&B.”
“We run it just fine,” Jason says and plunks down next to me. “Her name can be on paper only.”
Apparently, they’ve given it thought but not to the end or into the future. “She’d be responsible for the mortgage, Jason.”
Sam frowns, and his foot bounces under the table, stirring the coffee in the mugs on top of it. “It would kill Gram to see it go to someone outside the family.”
I don’t doubt that he is right, but I’m not seeing an easy solution here. I take them all in and look at Cody, who appears to be playing his game but will be aware of the conversation going on around him, listening quietly like he usually does.
I shake my head. “I don’t know what to say, you guys.”
Sam glances at Izzy. They exchange a look, and Izzy shrugs. “I’m sure Heather would agree if it was for a good cause.”
I glance back and forth between the two of them, and when Sam glances down in thought, a tell that he’s scheming something, I ask, “What are you all up to?”
“Nothing,” they both say in unison, and I push back in my chair.
“Whatever it is, I can’t stop you.” I hold my hands up. “I’m just not getting involved.”
“Not so fast, boss,” Jason says. “We might need you.”
“I’m not sure if I can be of any help.” Not outside of buying the place to keep it running. But I have no intention of owning a B&B. I already have enough trouble with the home I purchased.
I stand, put my mug in the sink, and grab my winter gear. “Catch up with you guys later.”
As I exit through the backdoor, the crew lean in and start talking about some function at the bar. I told them I can’t stop them, but maybe someone should. Sure the place runs by itself, but who says Kira wants to take on the responsibility of actually owning it if they raise enough for a down payment. She’d still have a mortgage to pay, and she said her mother wants it sold, so she won’t have her family in her corner.
Sitting in my truck, I glance at the big Thunderbird Kira is driving. The vehicle doesn’t even look like it’s roadworthy, and she can’t go far with those all-season tires that are down to their last treads.
Today is overcast with more snow expected tonight, which is making it difficult to fix the back stairs. I pull out of the driveway, make a quick trip to the hardware store, and a few minutes later, I’m geared up and meeting Albert and his crew on his stare-of-the-art fishing vessel.
“Hey, boss,” he says with a tip of his head.
“Call me Nate,” I say, and he scrubs his salt-and-pepper beard.
“Sure thing, boss,” he says with a teasing wink. It’s a tug of war we play—harmless, and he seems to enjoy goading me.
I take in the man’s silver hair and note that he’s always quick with a smile. When we met a few months ago, I instantly liked him. He’s around my dad’s age and is like a father figure to everyone.
“Nate.” Jeremy, the deckhand, greets me as he unties the boat. Albert heads off to pilot the craft. I stand portside, and as we head deeper out to sea, my thoughts go to Kira. I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t do sleepovers, but it was late when she came to me, and we are living under the same roof. Yeah, that’s the only reason. I’m sure of it.
Fuck, maybe if I keep telling myself that I’ll start to believe it.
When the boat comes to a stop, I get straight to work gathering the traps. Albert takes measure of the lobsters, while a couple of the deckhands and I refill the mesh bait bags with herring. We continue to check traps, talk about work concerns, and soon enough the day is gone and my muscles are aching. I love being on the water, but I don’t get out enough, and by the end of the day, my body always feels the strain. The sun is close to setting by the time we get back to the dock.
“Great catches today, eh?” Alberts says as he looks over his haul.
“You bet.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for letting me come along.”
“Listen, Faith is having a Halloween party on the thirtieth. Lots of food and drinks. Why don’t you come along?”
He’s talked about his wife Faith on numerous occasions, and I’ve yet to meet her. “Do I have to dress up?”
“Only if you want to.”
“I don’t want to,” I say, and he laughs. “What time?”
“Seven good?”
“Perfect. See you then,” I say. My body is too sore and far too tired to head back to the office to change, so I drive straight to the B&B. The kitchen is empty when I get there, but lingering aromas of dinner reach my nostrils. Had Kira eaten with the others? Had she eaten at all?
“Hey,” she says quietly, coming around the corner, and I ignore the way my pulse jackhammers in my throat at the mere sight of her. It’s insane how much I thought about her today, how I couldn’t wait for the hours to pass so I could be back here with her.
My gaze drops from her pretty face to take in her baggy jeans and loose-fitting AC/DC T-shirt. How can she make that look sexy? I suppose she could wear a burlap bag and I’d still want her.
“Hey, yourself.” She leans against the doorjamb, her face relaxed, her eyes soft, and for one awkward moment, I’m not sure whether to kiss her or not. I want to, there is no doubt there. I want to cross the room, drag her sweet body against mine, and kiss the hell out of her. But I’m in my gear, reek of fish, and I pretty much stick to one-night stands, so this is all new to me.
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
“I think they’re all gone to the Anchor.”
I don’t tell her it’s probably to put together some insane plan to save the B&B. “Did you eat?” I ask.
She nods and her eyes widen in delight. “Sam made shrimp pasta. It was delicious. You’re all good cooks.” The sudden image of her helping Sam in the kitchen, stirring sauce together, fills me with an insane amount of jealousy. Ridiculous, right?
She sticks out her flat stomach. “I’m going to be ten pounds heavier when I finally leave here. There’s a plate in the fridge for you.”
I roll my heavy fishing coat off my shoulder and wince when the muscles in my neck tighten.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Just a lot of heavy lifting today. I was on McMurtry’s boat.”
“McMurtry. That’s Amber’s last name. Are they related?”
“Everyone in this town is related,” I say, and she laughs.
“I met Amber’s mother today. She stopped by after the realtor left and invited me to her Halloween party. That was nice of her.”
“Albert invited me today, too.”
Her eyes light. “L
ooks like I’ll be seeing you there.”
“Or we go together. Do you have any idea how bald your tires are?”
She glances out the window and frowns. “I guess it’s pointless to hope for no snow in the next month?”
“Most likely.” I unhook my suspenders and peel off my pants.
“Are you going to dress up for the party?” she asks.
“My days of dressing up are over.”
“Oh.” She looks down, a crease in her forehead.
“What?”
“We never really celebrated Halloween when I was young. Mom didn’t want me eating all the sugar.”
Jesus, what kind of upbringing did she have? My father was absent, and my brothers were douchebags, but we ran around the neighborhood, collecting our fair share of candy. Her folks kind of piss me off.
“You should dress up,” I say. “They open a Halloween store in town this time of year. You might have seen it?”
She nods. “I have. I’ll think about it.”
“I’m going to need a shower. Let me just hang these in the laundry room. No one needs to smell them all night.” I kick off my boots and carry my gear to the back room. “How did you make out with the realtor?” I call out.
“I’ll tell you about it over dinner. How about I heat your plate for you while you go get cleaned up?” she says.
My stomach tightens at her thoughtfulness. “Domestic now, are you?” I tease, but it’s strange to think how easily I could get used to this setup. I poke my head back into the kitchen and get a perfect, unobstructed view of her sweet ass when she bends to take my plate of food from the fridge. She turns, but I’m far too slow to react. My head lifts, and I catch the small grin on her face, the spark of fire in her eyes.
“Like what you see, Nate?”
“Yeah, I fucking do.” I take a step toward her. “I want to kiss you.”
Heat moves into her cheeks, and her lips part in invitation. I brush my lips over hers, and a small sigh escapes her mouth. “I promise you a better one, once I’m cleaned up. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Bossy-pants,” she says quietly, and I hurry up the stairs. I strip down fast and get into a hot shower, soaping every inch of my skin and taking my hard cock into my hand. I give a few good tugs and rinse off. I dress and resist the urge to ride the bannister to the bottom to get there as quickly as I can.
In the kitchen, Kira is standing by the microwave. Her appreciative gaze rakes the length of me, and from her smile it’s easy to tell she likes what she sees, too.
“That was fast,” she says.
“Sometimes I can be fast,” I say as I stalk toward her. I move into her space, slide a hand around her waist, and drag her against me. Who knew she’d be so warm, so easy to be with?
So addictive.
“And sometimes I can be slow.” I press my lips to hers for a deeper, more thorough kiss, and the small, sexy moan that catches in her throat makes me want to abandon dinner and go straight for dessert. But I want to hear about her day and what the realtor had to say.
The microwave beeps, and we break apart. “I can get that,” I say, and she steps out of the way. I remove my food and place it on the table. Kira heads to the kettle to make a cup of tea, and I dig in.
“Good, right?” she says as I practically shovel in the food.
I swallow and fork some more. “Delicious.”
“Tea?” she asks.
“Maybe later. I need water right now.” I make a move to stand, and she stops me.
“I can get it for you.”
I sit back down. As she reaches for a glass, I let my gaze slide to her ass. “I can get used to this.” On some insane level, I want her to tell me to go ahead, get used to it.
You’re playing house, dude. That’s all you want.
“You saved me, remember. Now I must serve you.”
“If you really want to serve me,” I say playfully, “leave the water. We can make better use of your time.”
“Board game? Cards? Video game?”
“Not even close.”
“Hide and seek?”
I waggle my eyebrows. “There might be something I’m interested in hiding.”
Cup of tea in hand, she laughs out loud and sits across from me. “One-track mind much?”
“When it comes to you, it seems that way.” I stretch out my neck, moving it from side to side. “How did you make out with the realtor today?”
She frowns. “I have a list.”
“Would fire alarms be on it?”
“No, why?”
I nod to the paper bag on the counter. “I picked some up on the way to work this morning. I’m going to install them tonight.” She blinks at me. “It’s not safe to be here without them, and you’re home all day.”
Her cheeks warm with color. “Nate…I don’t know what to say.”
That sweet gratitude for such a small gesture is thanks enough, and my world shifts a little off kilter. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it. I’ll…get the list.” She disappears into her office and comes back with a sheet of paper, which she places in front of me. “Strip wallpaper, refinish floors, paint living room.”
“He wants all that done?” I ask.
“Apparently.” Her look is wistful as she glances around. “I can’t imagine taking down the wallpaper. It’s all Gram.”
“Then don’t. These are suggestions. You don’t have to do them.”
“I think I should paint the living room, though. Did you see how faded the yellow walls were after I gave Amber that painting?” She sits up a bit straighter. “Oh, that reminds me. Someone egged the house again. It wasn’t my room, so I’m guessing it’s not directed at me.”
“Shit. What time did it happen?”
“Around three.”
I fork a shrimp into my mouth. “Did you see anything?”
“No. After the realtor left, I was in my office. I was so lost in work—I actually didn’t even hear it. Jason told me when he got home, and he went and cleaned it up.”
“That’s good,” I say. I’m going to try to be home before three over the next few days. I’m not sure what time school gets out, but if I had to guess, it’s right around that time. The local kids are still messing with the signs, growing antsy with the cooler weather. Kira takes a sip of tea. I get that she doesn’t want to talk about work, but I want to know what she does in that den. “Do you mind if I ask what you’re studying for?”
“I’m not studying for anything,” she says.
“All the books, computers…and you said you were a student.”
“I’m a graduate student.”
She looks down. Okay, I’ve touched on a sensitive subject. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”
“I don’t want to see you slip into a coma,” she says, and I laugh.
I take a drink of water and finish the last shrimp on my plate. “That bad?”
“Yeah, kinda,” she says and runs her finger around the perimeter of her teacup.
“I’m really interested, though. What keeps you in that office, so deep in thought you forget to eat and don’t hear eggs hit the house?”
“Do you really want to know?” Dark eyes search my face.
I suspect those who’ve asked in the past must have checked out once she started talking.
“Yeah, I’m curious,” I say.
“Fine, but you asked for this, and I’m not cleaning up your drool once you doze off.” She gestures toward my plate. “You might want to move that, or you could faceplant into your sauce and suffocate.”
I cock my head. “You mean you won’t revive me?”
“Not sure it will be possible.”
I push the plate away, even though
I don’t believe she’ll bore me. “Done.”
She fiddles with her cup some more and says, “Okay, I’m a mathematician, and what I’m working on is a quantum verification problem. I’m trying to solve the basic question of quantum computation.” She pauses for a second. “Still with me?”
“Still with you,” I say, even though I have no idea what a quantum verification problem is. I hold my hands about six inches apart. “Just use shorter sentences, smaller words,” I tease, and I’m instantly rewarded with a wide smile and laugh.
“Okay, so it’s like this…”
I sit intently as she explains laws of quantum physics and the study of computers that derive their power from them, and while I don’t totally get all of it—or any of it, let’s be real here—I’m still fascinated by her passion, the way her eyes light up and her hands turn animated as she talks. She talks for a good twenty minutes, and I lean back in my chair, kick my legs out, and listen to every word.
Finally she takes a breath, and I briefly close my eyes and try to absorb and rationalize all that she told me. I fail miserably. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it.
“I bet you’re thinking the same thing I am,” she says.
“What’s that?”
“We just found a new humane—or not so humane—way to lull a lobster to sleep.”
I smile at that. “Nope. I was thinking that you’re beautiful and brilliant.”
She blushes and curls a long honey-blonde strand of hair around her finger. Her innocent sexuality gives me an instant boner. I stand, step around the table, and pull her from her chair.
“I…sometimes men can be intimated.” Her eyes search mine likes she’s trying to figure out if I’m that guy.
“I’m impressed, Kira. I really am.”
“Really?” she says quietly. “I usually only impress men in my academic world. For men like you it’s a yawn fest to listen, and then intimidation usually kicks in.”
“Like me?” I say.
“Fishing for a compliment, Nate?” She winks. “See how I did that?”
“Clever,” I tease. “About what I do…” I begin, and she shakes her head.
“Nate, as long as you’re passionate about your job and enjoy what you do, it doesn’t matter to me.”
