Chapter 9
SEAMUS
I opened the fridge to take stock. Eli always rolled his eyes when I wanted to go someplace good to eat, instead of grabbing pub food at O’Malleys or the Blue Line, and gave me shit for watching just as much of the food channel as ESPN.
But good food made me happy. It was quiet comfort.
Something my Dad—another secret foodie—and I had in common, besides the business.
But unless Dad was over, I rarely had the opportunity to make food for guests.
I was looking forward to cooking for Chelsea.
Even if having her in my house had me warring an internal battle of feelings.
As it turned out, I had some ground beef, a ton of herbs, and blue cheese. Ironically, it looked like I’d be making burgers.
When I kicked the fridge closed, I saw Chelsea was inspecting my cookbook shelf, running her finger along Ottolenghi Cooks.
“I never knew you were such a food person,” she said. A lock of her newly shorn hair had fallen against her cheek, and I had the idiot urge to go over and brush it aside. Short hair was sexy on her—with her hair gone, the long slope of her neck and delicate curve of her collarbone was unobstructed.
“Everything I know I learned from Chef’s Apprentice,” I said.
Chelsea laughed, and heat shot down low in my abdomen.
I grinned. “You think I’m kidding—cooking shows are the only reason I have cable.”
Chelsea held up her hands. “Got it. So, Chef’s Apprentice… is that the one where they have contestants shadow chefs at a different restaurant every episode?”
“That’s it. Then they have to try to replicate that chef’s specialty.”
“And whoever can’t do it is axed!” she exclaimed. Chelsea’s delight made something go light inside of me. Then, bizarrely, I pictured cooking with her. Her sneaking a finger into the bowl of something and licking it…
Her lips were parted now, and I had to look away fast. I remembered my promise to Eli, and myself.
I was supposed to be looking out for her, not looking at her.
And absolutely not fantasizing about her.
I’d felt relieved after speaking to Eli, because any fuzzy lines around what Chelsea and I could be were erased when I’d heard the worry in his voice.
I think he’d been close to tears.
“We’re all so fuckin’ worried about her, Seamus.”
I could see exactly why they’d been so concerned. Not only had Chelsea only just gotten the okay to leave the hospital, but Eli said one of the only reasons they’d allowed her to be discharged early was because they knew she had a strong network of people around her.
“She’s supposed to be recovering, spending as much time resting as possible while going for walks to keep active and eating whole meals, whatever that means,” Eli had said out on the ridge. “But she took off with that friend she only partied with. And Cass said she’s barely eaten anything.”
I’d looked over at Chelsea, and only because she was out of earshot I’d said, “I don’t think she wants to party now.”
Finally, he’d let out a long breath. “You know what? I’m glad she’s with you. You’re the only person I really trust around her now.”
I wanted to remind him the reason he’d met my face with his fist yesterday was because he suggested I’d put her in danger, which of course I had, just by my pure bad luck.
Bad stuff happened to people around me. But I couldn’t say any of that.
Instead, I told him what she’d told me—that she just needed to get away.
“Your family is a whole… thing,” I said.
Eli had laughed at that. He knew how quiet I got when I was around all of them—how loud they were, how easy with each other.
He thought I didn’t like all the cacophony.
That I got overwhelmed. And maybe I did.
But I liked being around them, too. Except, when you wanted peace and quiet, it wasn’t to a Kelly family gathering that you went.
“I think she just needs some space to think.”
“Yeah. Well, please, Seamus, just look out for her. I just can’t have anything else happen to her, not now.”
The situation had been made crystal clear.
My best friend was trusting me, in lieu of his whole family, to watch out for his little sister.
Any other thoughts—the ones I’d been feeling since I saw her looking like a resting angel in my hammock—those had to be gone now.
They had to be completely out of the equation.
So now, even though her presence in my house sent something warm tingling across my skin, I cleared my throat as I plucked an onion from the cupboard.
“You can just kick back,” I said, pointing my chin at the overstuffed couches in the living room as I peeled the skin off the onion.
“No way! Put me to work.” She smiled. Up close like this, under the glow of the lights, I could see a smattering of freckles peeking out from under her bandage. One of her teeth, in the front, was the tiniest bit crooked. Her lips—
Looking out for her, Reilly, remember?
I tried to picture Eli, and it helped, a little. So did not looking at her. Maybe it would be better if she were out of sight for a bit, so I could clear my head.
It was then I heard the faint cluck of chickens.
The girls. I’d been so distracted I hadn’t put the girls in their coop for the night. It was perfect.
“How do you feel about chickens?” I asked. “Live ones.”
She lit up. “Good, I think? Well, I don’t really have any experience.”
I lay down the onion. “This way.” I led her out the back door and toward the enclosed area holding my half-dozen birds.
Once inside, I gave Chelsea instructions. It was a pretty straightforward job, and a moment later, after making her promise to call me if she needed me, I left her with the fussy girls. That ought to occupy her for at least a few minutes.
Then I went in, cranked up some Sam Cook on my speakers and felt my shoulders relax.
This was good. I was good. I could handle this.
But burgers were too easy. Ten minutes later, they were on the grill on the side porch, and even though my head was finally in a decent place—this was cool, I was cool, being friends with Chelsea was cool cool cool—I couldn’t help glancing in the direction of the coop.
Chelsea still hadn’t come back inside. She hadn’t called for me either, and I’d left all the doors open so I could hear.
Putting the chickens away should have been a two-minute job, even for a novice, so after setting some onions in a pan with oil on low to caramelize inside, I went out back.
I don’t know exactly what I expected to find, but it wasn’t Chelsea laughing as she ran around the open dirt, half-heartedly chasing after Muffin, my most rebellious bird.
I couldn’t help grinning. I folded my arms and leaned against the back doorframe to watch.
I’d turned on the floodlight when I got her set up, which I mainly used when I heard noises out there at night.
But now, it had the effect of making her running around after Muffin a vaudeville stage act.
She’d get up close to the brown and white bird, who for her part, acted like she didn’t notice the human with the outstretched arms behind her.
Then the moment Chelsea swiped, Muffin would squawk and flutter out of reach, sending Chelsea into hysterics.
Most people would get frustrated, but not Chelsea.
She was practically crying she was laughing so hard.
I almost didn’t want her to catch her.
Finally, she spotted me. “You have a rebel in your ranks!”
“Muffin’s too smart for her own good.”
“Muffin!”
I walked over and stepped inside the enclosure.
I tried not to focus on Chelsea, who’d unzipped the hoodie she was wearing.
Her chest heaved as she spasmed with laughter, and when she stood up and saw Muffin practically shake her tail at me, she burst out into new gales, throwing her head back so once again the soft skin of her neck was exposed, long and smooth.
That tingling came back, running down low now. Straight to my dick, in fact.
Not good.
Focus on the damn chicken.
I sidled up to Muffin, slowly, with my hands poised like I was doing a martial art. “You have to fight clever with clever.”
I slowly walked around Muffin so that if she wanted to get away from me, she was forced to move in the direction of the coop. “And then you have to act like you don’t care if she goes in or not.”
“So you’re playing it cool with a chicken?”
“Exactly.”
She snorted with laughter again and I swear to God my dick jumped. Down, boy.
I picked up a metal pail I’d left in here at some point last week when I’d planned to clean out the coop. “If she thinks you’re doing something else, she lets her guard down.”
I waited until Muffin began pecking idly at the ground near the ramp to the coop. Then I softly lowered the can to the ground…
…and pounced.
My hands landed on her soft little back. I grasped her tight, holding her so her feet kicked away from me. Muffin squawked and protested with a fluff of feathers. But by then I’d gently footballed her into the open door of the coop, where the other chickens began crying out after her.
I lowered the little door. “I leave the talking-to to the other girls.”
Chelsea clapped, laughing. “Pure art!”
Heat spread through me. Could she see the heat in my face under this glaring light? “Just practice.”
“I learn something new about you every other minute, Seamus.”
That heat grew, and the smile slipped from Chelsea’s face, but her eyes stayed on mine.
Both of us seemed to grow awkward then, and I suddenly remembered the onions, which would probably be halfway to blackened now. “We better get back inside.”
I held the gate open for her. If her eyes were on me, I didn’t see, because I was carefully avoiding looking at her. As she passed, I felt heat coming off of her. Like her presence did something to the atoms in my body. Like they gravitated toward her.
But then it was gone, and she was heading into the house, asking me where she could wash up.