Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Kell
Wrong thing to say, Kell! he shouted at himself in his head.
Every time he let his guard down, a part of him moved up.
A part he did not want Rachel to notice.
Because that part had no right to insert itself into the situation right now.
Pun not intended.
“Just drive,” she muttered, the soft curve of her body against his making it impossible to focus. How did he drive a truck again?
Insert key. Insert. No. Stop it. Don’t think about inserting things. It’s not symbolic. Sometimes a key is just a key.
Foot on brake.
Depress clutch.
Turn key. No thinking!
Put in gear.
Foot off brake.
How was he supposed to focus with her perfume in his nose? A deep inhale reminded him of a tropical, fruity drink. There was so much nuance to her scent, though, something soft and sweet, a more relaxed, feminine air to her than he had a right to notice.
Or care about.
Her body was so soft and warm against his, the curve of her upper arm brushing against his, her thighs toned and tight as she spread them across his lap. This was going to be the death of him.
Holding back his arousal.
He would die of restraint.
“You ready?” he asked, using his free hand to push a stray lock of her hair off his face. It fell back again, brushing his lips. No choice. He had to tuck it behind her ear.
“What are you doing?”
“I’d prefer not to eat your hair while driving.”
“I can fix that.” Using her free hand, she reached up, but lost her leverage, slumping deeper into him, her inner thighs sliding down across the outsides of his legs, their position so intimate, her body turning him into nothing but one big impulse.
And it felt so good.
Too good.
What if he took his free hand, buried his fingers in her hair at the back of her head, and brought her mouth slowly to his? How would she respond? What would she feel like in his lap, moving against him with passion and not... this.
Whatever this was?
“Kell?”
“Got it,” he insisted, thinking about anything–anything–to stop his body from responding to her.
Imagine that dead raccoon he once found frozen in a lake.
Imagine watching the Red Sox lose to the Yankees in the playoffs.
Think about that time he accidentally walked in on his grandparents having sex in the barn.
As his mind raced to conjure every terrible memory that would drain the blood out of places it shouldn’t be, she lifted herself back up, incrementally, from his lap and said, “Hello? Come on. Let’s go.”
“Right.”
“You okay?”
But he’d shifted into reverse already, the vehicle lurching as he played the clutch and gas pedals just so, the giant truck doing what it needed to do. A flick of the windshield wipers and he moved the thin layer of new snow off, and down they went toward Route 33.
Pretty soon, cars would pass them, a nine out of ten chance he knew the drivers. They would wave.
He couldn’t wave back.
That alone would make a few of them wonder, and peer a little more intently, seeing the back of a woman instead of the full front of a driver. Pretty damn quickly, word would spread.
And his mom would start calling him.
Then his brother and sister.
Calls he would try to ignore.
One problem with the road they were on was that gully, dangerous in good weather, a yawning ice chasm of no return in winter.
Kell headed slowly down the road, the flakes falling at a nice, steady pace.
It would take an hour or two before the Nor’easter really kicked in, and hopefully Deke could get up here fast enough to fix the car.
It was pure luck that he found Rachel. If he hadn’t come along, she’d have been stranded. And those ridiculous boots wouldn’t have done her any favors.
The thought of her huddled in the car overnight, alone in a heavy snowstorm, no food or heat, made him grateful for whatever impulse made him happen to glance up at the logging road and see the car.
Helping people meant taking time out from routine to do what was needed, and he’d assumed he’d find a family lost on their way to town.
Instead, he got a lapful of unfinished business.
Like a cat, Rachel arched up, her butt brushing against his left hand on the steering wheel. They hit a pothole and she squealed right in his ear.
He gritted his teeth at the sound, then sympathy flooded him.
“Your shoulder okay?”
“No. I feel like I’ve been trussed.”
An image of that poured through him, and damn it, now he had to think about something else... deflating. No way was he going back to the memory of walking in on Grandpa and Grandma in the barn, in that hayloft, both of them naked and giggling.
Grandpa never giggled. Except... then.
Dead racoon. Dead racoon. Dead racoon...
“We just have to make it to the hospital. Nine point four miles to go. About twenty minutes at this slow rate.”
“Hah. In L.A., nine miles is an hour of driving.”
“This isn’t L.A.”
“No kidding. In L.A., cell phones work everywhere.”
“Once we’re unstuck, you can head right back to L.A., Rachel, and never see Luview again.” The harsh words were a test.
They also helped neutralize his arousal.
“Trust me,” she said, her throat clicking as she swallowed hard. “That’s my plan.”
“You never said exactly why you’re in town. I’m going to find out no matter what, so why don’t you spill?”
She groaned. “Please refrain from using words like spill, water, or rushing.”
He began making a pssssssssh sound in her ear, knowing he was being a jerk but unable to stop himself, because this line of conversation was bringing things down, so to speak.
“Stop it!” she hissed, hard and raspy, in his ear.
“You’re right. I’ll stop. I’ll be the victim if I keep doing that.”
“Victim? You’re the victim? If anyone’s the victim here, it’s me!”
“Victim of your own stupidity.”
He expected a biting retort. Instead, he got agreement.
“I know. On so many levels, Kell. Oh, how I know.”
A quick glance at the odometer told him they had seven point three miles to go.
Every mile was a century.
Her long sigh, sweet breath heating his neck, didn’t help. All these lush curves in his lap, her fruity scent mixed with his own, and every breath he took turned into a fight within. Rachel Hart hurt him all those years ago, but damn if he didn’t want to kiss her right here, right now, desperately.
Pull over by the side of the road and just --
Suddenly, she screamed so loudly, crawling half up his body, that he damn near drove off the road.
“THERE’S A BOBCAT IN HERE!”
A flash of fluffy ginger and white appeared in the corner of Kell’s right eye as he juggled driving, a glued hand, Rachel’s flailing form, and now a pierced eardrum.
All while headed up an icy hill in a snowstorm.
“Rachel.” He mustered as much calm as humanly possible, because one of them had to be rational and, given that he was driving, it should probably be him. “Quit screaming.”
“YOU HAVE A WILD ANIMAL IN HERE!”
The cat sat back on its haunches in the passenger seat, eyes narrowing with a glittering condescension.
“That’s my cat.”
“That’s not a cat!” Rachel was shaking, moving in his lap. “It looks like a lion mixed with a bobcat! And what’s that hard thing? It’s really big. I’m hitting the stick shift with my thigh!”
That’s not the stick shift, he was going to have to announce if she didn’t stop squirming.
“Meet Calamine. She’s a Maine Coon cat.”
“A what?”
“Maine Coon cat.”
“Why do you have an enormous cat slinking around in your truck?”
“Because she’s my girl. Goes with me everywhere.”
“That thing is the size of a dog!”
“Yep.”
“Does it bite?”
“Only when I order her to.”
Calamine gave him a glare that said, What’s an order, you inferior human?
At that moment, the cat decided to claim her rightful place in Kell’s very occupied lap, going nose in between him and Rachel.
“What’s it doing?”
“Trying to sit in my lap.”
“It can’t!”
“You ever have a cat, Rachel? Try telling it not to do something.” His eyes met hers. “Bet you’re part cat, huh?”
“There’s no room between us!”
“Cats have bones made of liquid. She’ll fit in here.”
Rachel huffed. “Good thing I’m not allergic!”
Ignoring the arguing humans, Calamine made her way between them, settling in, her soft warmth and sturdy heft making Kell chuckle.
And grateful. Embarrassing appendages settled down exactly where they should be.
“I cannot believe this.”
“Believe what? That I have a pet?”
“How many more miles to go?”
“Five point four.”
“Good. Ewww, what’s that?”
Calamine was licking their conjoined hands.
“Cally’s just figuring us out.”
“Does cat saliva neutralize superglue? If so, keep licking, Calamine.”
“If it did, I’d have hauled her out from under the passenger seat a long time ago.”
“You knew she was in here and didn’t warn me?”
“Why would I warn you about a cat?”
“That’s not a normal cat!”
The first big heart-shaped sign on Route 33 for Luview, Maine, appeared. It had the proper spelling, LUVIEW, but then underneath, the enormous tag line:
Welcome to Love You, Maine: Where Every Day Is Valentine’s Day.
Rachel couldn’t see it because she was facing backward, but she groaned anyhow.
Then he remembered there were signs in both directions.
“The sign says Thank You For Visiting Love You, Maine: Where Every Day Is Valentine’s Day, so I assume we’re close?” she ventured. Her voice was sounding more and more exhausted with every mile.
“Just crossed the town line. A few miles left to hit the center. Hospital’s on the other side of town.”
“Can’t get there soon enough.”
Suddenly, both of their phones started buzzing like mad as all the suppressed texts came through. Reading texts while driving was always dangerous, but in this case, it was impossible.
Couldn’t exactly read them right now. Neither of them had a free hand.