Chapter 10 #2
Something inside of me unclenched. I didn’t even realize how tight my shoulders were.
I laced our fingers. “I know you’ll have a fix for it.
And when you don’t, I’ll be there to help.
I know I’ve been letting you do everything when it comes to the Taproom, and that’s because you are so capable.
But I’m right there in the brew room when you need me.
And I don’t care if it’s just to move tables around for you. ”
She huffed out a breath, but her shoulders dropped a little.
“But when I say that you act like one of the guys, I mean, you have forgotten you are a sexy and incredible woman. And you know what—I’m glad about that right now. Because I can be the one to show you exactly how fucking sexy you are.”
We idled at the entrance to The Mason Jar as I waited her out. A car came up behind us and honked.
“I can pull back into the parking lot.”
“Go left,” she said on a shaky whisper.
I lifted her hand to my mouth and scraped my teeth over the fragile skin of her wrist, then lowered our linked hands to my thigh before turning onto Crescent Lake Road.
The sun slipped behind the trees and into the horizon as we headed back toward Turnbull. The only conversation included her directions and her soft breaths.
I didn’t even put music on.
The silence in the cab of my truck added to the molasses-thick tension between us. She directed me down a winding road to a dead-end street and a hundred-year-old Victorian with an improbably-sized parking lot for the era.
Probably an old elephant that had been chopped up into apartments in the nineties.
At least that was what my mom used to call them.
The old factory towns across the east coast were famous for the ostentatious houses that fell to ruin when the job opportunities ended.
When I’d researched the area, I’d seen lots of ads for them while looking for a place to rent.
“Park towards the back.”
“To hide my truck?”
Her jaw flexed in the dim light from the dash. “Because my place is in the back.”
I found an empty slot and jammed my gear shift into park. Before we could get into another argument—because we were so good at them—I unclipped her belt and drew her across the bench to get out on my side.
“Caveman,” she muttered.
I kept our fingers tangled, firming when she tried to brush past me. She led me along the path to the back of the house. There were three cracked cement stairs at the entrance to a back porch.
Deep green and white paint tried to mask some of the age and disrepair, but I could tell the old place needed work.
She toed away a few rocks and bent to retrieve a plastic rock that held a key.
I let her hand go so she could open the poor excuse for a lock that made me instantly want to haul her off to the hardware store for a new kit.
Maybe for a complete security system.
I glanced at the postage stamp yard then beyond to the gnarled paths crowded out by brambles and felled trees.
I had to shimmy my way through the door because it was definitely made in a time where men were not my size. The hallway was just as narrow with barely any soundproofing. The oppressive heat of the day hung in the air mixing with…was that taco seasoning?
The hum and murmur of television voices from two different doors added to the claustrophobic feel. A child was not at all happy with her food situation as we passed one of the doors, while a dog was barking with outrage from the other side of the hall.
We got to the third door at the end of the hall and she unearthed a second key from the rock before she stuffed it in her pocket. She jammed her shoulder into the door and kicked the bottom before it popped open.
“Don’t get too excited. It’s not much.”
I crowded behind her and slid my hand along her hip. “I don’t care.”
She sighed and nodded before slipping inside. She flicked on the lights and I was surprised with the view. Based on the exterior, I’d expected a narrow, airless, crowded room.
Instead, she’d been thoughtful with everything in the limited space.
Floating shelves dominated the main wall and made the room feel taller.
She utilized the space for plants and photos of people I recognized from the orchard and Lucky’s.
A small glass plaque hung between the shelves half hidden by fat leaves from a monstera exploding out of a pot on the floor.
I couldn’t read what it was, but I wondered if it was from the Vegas bartending expo.
I wasn’t sure how she’d gotten that monstera to grow in here with the lack of light, but then I noticed the small lights mounted under the shelves. Pretty ingenious. Grow lamps repurposed for lighting the space as well as feeding her obvious plant addiction.
They covered every spare inch. Pots, cups, even a teapot with a cracked spout were all full of greenery. From the variegated, to the solids, to leafy purple ones I couldn’t name.
Evidently my Kira loved plants.
A corner bookcase was her only furniture besides a decadent couch I had no idea how she’d managed to fit into the room. It must have been built in there.
Shelves were stuffed with books on horticulture and true crime with a few bright-colored ones that looked like some sort of feminine fiction. Did she read romance novels? How spicy were they?
The topmost shelf was lined with beakers, bottles, and shot glasses of water full of cuttings in varying stages of propagation. More grow lamps were tacked along the top of the bookcase to give the cuttings maximum light.
Beyond the plants, the space was orderly save for a blanket thrown over the back of the couch and a jelly glass of water on the small table jammed between the couch and wall.
It was also surprisingly cool. Her shades were drawn and the low hum of a double box fan in each window drew the hot air out of the room, leaving the place far cooler than I’d expected without an overworked air conditioning unit.
The air was clean thanks to all the plants and underlying moonflower scent that was so uniquely Kira.
“I just want a quick shower before…” She cleared her throat. “Well, just before.”
I nodded.
She headed toward a doorway past the small kitchen which was ruthlessly clean and just as orderly. More plants lined the walls in there too, but these were of the cooking variety. I followed her down the hall, and she stopped at the threshold of her bathroom.
“Can I have a minute?”
I backed her into the bathroom.
“Jeez, Ronan. I take a quick shower. Don’t worry.”
I always felt too big around women, but never around Kira until this moment.
The Victorians were definitely stingy when it came to building a bathroom, but one thing they did right was a tub.
It was an old claw-footed one that was perfect for a deep soak.
A little table sat beside it with a candle and speaker.
I crowded into her, my arm sliding around her waist to reach the faucet.
I turned on the water, then I snapped the shower curtain back and tucked it behind the tub before I pushed the stopper into the drain.
A little jar of something like salt sat on a shelf.
I took off the top and her scent rose up with the steam.
I dumped two heaping scoops into the water.
“Hey, that’s expensive stuff.”
I took a mental snapshot of the label so I could order her a damn case of it.
She sighed. “I just need a shower.”
I cupped her face. “Take a bath. I’ll be outside.” I dropped a kiss on her forehead then on her slack lips. “I’m in no rush.”
She laid her hands on my chest. “And if I am?”
“Even more reason for you to take some time. I’m not going to be a mistake, Kira.”
Taking a step back from her was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
But she was worth it.