Chapter 14 #8
A six a.m. job with his dad was the only issue here, but it was barely nine o’clock now and they were almost done with dinner.
Plenty of time to take Rachel back to his place and make love for hours. Hopefully, she would spend the night. Having her in his arms as they slept, waking up to her, making love again –
That was it.
That was what came after perfect.
She reached over, fingers stroking the nape of his neck.
“I think it’s time we move this party to a more private location.”
“Private? How much more private can it get?”
“Let me be more precise: Let’s go back to your apartment.”
“Technically, it’s less private there, because Calamine is hogging a third of the bed.”
“She will not be on the bed when we’re on it!”
“Of course not,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
His phone buzzed, and Kell groaned.
“Sorry. Forgot to turn this off.” It was a text from his dad, but he didn’t read it, powering the phone off instead. It was probably just something about tomorrow’s job.
“Hey, all you lovebirds out there,” Selena crooned. “This is a message from one lover to another. It’s a strange one, but love is strange, right? Here goes: Leo the Lemur asks–”
Rachel’s eyes were suddenly huge as she listened, giving Kell a half-terrified, half-amused look.
“–Do you still wear red lace panties? Let’s find out.”
The song “Lover,” by Taylor Swift, came on the radio.
He groaned. “I did not pick this song!” Selena was playing one big prank on him.
“It’s, um, an interesting choice,” Rachel said diplomatically as they both burst out laughing, Kell’s romantic gesture turned into a farce. “And it is about love, after all.”
Their eyes met, his own longing reflected back in her gorgeous, dark eyes. A man could lose himself in there and never once miss the world.
The slow beat made Kell stand and offer Rachel his hand, turned so that the henna tattoo Dutch had given him was exposed.
Laughing hard, but blushing furiously, Rachel showed her tattoo as well. Kell pressed his wrist against hers, then took her hand.
“Dance?”
Her eyes seemed to look into the past, guarded but hopeful, and her smile was strangely sad. They shared a breath, her eyes going soft, the worry fading away as he waited for her hand.
Which she offered.
“You just took perfect and made it better, Kell.”
“Only because you make it so easy, Rachel.”
As they moved to the music, the words flowing and such a good fit for everything he felt in this moment, with this beat, with this step, with this woman in his arms–it all felt, well…
Perfect.
Her face against his shoulder, they danced, moving slowly, the sway simple, the steps unnecessary. Having her in his arms, their dance candlelit, the mist outside making them feel enveloped, all made them feel timeless.
“I’ve missed you,” he confessed, dipping his head down to say it in her ear.
“I missed you, too. I never – ”
“Shh. I know.”
That was as much as he could say, some piece of him letting go, dropping anchor in his soul as he stopped and gave a piece of himself to her, a chamber of his heart.
It was right. It was enough.
For now. He had three more, after all.
“Kell, remember how earlier today, I said we needed to talk?” As the final lines of “Lover” receded, a new song began.
“Perfect,” by Ed Sheeran.
They both gasped, laughing a little at the DJ’s uncanny choice.
He looked down at her, Rachel’s minky brown eyes on his, their gaze centering the world.
“We’re talking,” he said softly. “And the song is right.”
With that, he kissed her, each stroke of their tongues giving him clarity, each little breathless sound from her a direct shot into his soul.
Suddenly, Selena’s voice cut into the music:
“Hey all you lovers in Love You, Maine–where every day is Valentine’s Day–this is Selena Martinez at WLUV with an unusual announcement.”
Kell froze in place. That text from his dad that he ignored.
No.
No, no, no.
Please let everyone be okay, he prayed. Amber’s shocking death had made him fear surprises like this.
“Kell? Your hands are ice cold. What is it?”
“Dad’s text. The one I ignored. What if something’s wrong?”
“A blown transformer has wiped out electricity along a three-building stretch of Main Street in Luview, Maine,” Selena read.
“Repair crews won’t be able to fix for several days, which puts Love You Flowers in a tough situation.
The flower shop is the only business in the three buildings that requires large coolers, and they need the community’s help.
For tourists and visitors in town, no worries!
Your orders are safe and will be delivered on time.
Last-minute shoppers will still be able to purchase their roses, but here’s where townsfolk come in. ”
Kell’s shoulders dropped with relief. Turning his phone back on, he saw all the new texts. Rachel reached for her bag, pulled hers out, and turned it on.
Nothing.
“Come on over to Love You Flowers and help Marty and Stella. They need your cooler space! Your business space, extra room in your fridge–it doesn’t matter!
They have over three hundred arrangements and twelve hundred roses, with more arriving in shipments tomorrow, so let’s do what the town of Love You does best, and – help them out! ”
Rachel looked at Kell, who felt the pull of two directions.
Help Marty and Stella, or take Rachel back to his apartment and make love.
It was Rachel who chose for him.
And captured more of his heart.
“Where is Love You Flowers?” she asked. “It’s across the street, right?” Leaning over the table, she blew out the candles with two quick puffs.
“Yes. Down to the right half a block.”
“We have to go help!” she insisted, reaching for her coat.
Before she could even get one arm in a sleeve, he had her in his embrace, bent back for a kiss, the rush of love too great to control. When he pulled back and set her upright, she was dazed.
So was he.
“Raincheck, big guy,” she said, patting his ass.
And before he knew it, she was ahead of him, out the door, but coming to a skittering halt at the front door.
Boyce stood there, a sheepish look on his face. “Sorry, folks. You hear about the electrical outage?”
“Yes!” they said in unison.
“We’re on our way to help,” Rachel explained.
“Great!” Boyce had a line of people behind him, all carrying some kind of flower arrangement. “That cooler I told you about, Kell? The one you could use for cold food? We have to make as much room in there as possible. Figure we can handle fifty or so arrangements.”
“That’s amazing!” Rachel gasped as a line of people, all carrying some kind of flower arrangement like ants in formation, came in after Boyce.
“Fifty down, two hundred fifty to go. Placing the rest plus twelve hundred roses is going to be hard,” he called out.
Kell grabbed her hand and they made their way to the street. At Love You Flowers, where Marty and Stella Cambridge were standing in a swirl of helpers, the phone was ringing off the hook.
“Stella!” Kell called out. “How can we help?”
“Grab that extension cord behind the counter! Run it out through the side door,” Marty called out. “Our generator’s only good for one of the coolers, so we’re borrowing portable generators and running lines outside for other things.”
Kell saw the store’s phone plugged into a power strip, which was now connected to a bright orange heavy duty cable that snaked out of sight. He grabbed his own phone and texted his dad:
Bring every long extension cord we have.
Dean immediately replied: Already on it.
The phone was ringing and ringing as Kell went out the side door and found Joe Kendrill in the alley, filling a generator with fuel. Kell handed him the cord he was carrying and ran back inside.
“That!” Stella was pointing to the phone. “Someone get that!”
Rachel lunged for the phone. “Love You Flowers. How can I help you?” She grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and began scribbling madly.
“Room for two? In your fridge? Okay, and your name? Address? Can you come get them or does someone need to deliver?” Rachel caught Kell’s gaze, and he gave her a thumbs up.
Marty walked between them and stared at Rachel like she had a third eye.
“Who is that?” he asked Kell.
“Rachel Hart. My, uh, friend.”
“The one who blasted the town on that hot mic the other day?”
“The one and only.”
“Huh. Well, she’s doing a great job handling the phone.” The store had two lines and Rachel was switching back and forth, asking the same questions, writing everything down.
Then she pointed to Kell, covering the receiver. “Can you get my laptop out of my bag? I’m going to create a Google Sheet to organize data, so we can track the logistics.”
Hearing that, Marty pressed his palms together and bowed to her.
“Thank you. We can handle getting everything into some kind of cooler or fridge situation, but we can’t organize it.”
“Leave it to me!” Rachel chirped. “This is my superpower.”
Kell handed Rachel the laptop from her bag.
“Even if some people think ruining their life is my superpower,” she said under her breath. The wink she shot Kell’s way took some of the burn out of that, but she was right.
He had said it, after all.
“KELLAN!” Stella boomed. “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?”
Everyone in the store turned and stared. Stella was never known for being subtle.
“I got a transplant,” he replied.
“Well, ya look like Dean when we were in high school. No question. Deanna definitely didn’t step out on your father.”
Rachel, quite surprised, kept her composure.
“You’re such a shrinking violet, Stella. Hey, son.” Dean had come in and was grabbing an arrangement. He looked at Rachel, who was now perched on the cash register stool, laptop open, phone pressed between her ear and shoulder.
And way overdressed.
“You two fancied up for this,” Marty said as Stella began explaining to Rachel about the fifty arrangements going to Love You Chocolate. Kell heard her say something about Skylar and a clipboard before Marty cleared his throat, expecting an answer.
“We were on a date.”
“And you left that to come here?” Marty nudged Kell. “You really do take your commitment to this town seriously.”
“She’s the one who insisted we help.”
“Hmph,” Marty said. “After the nasty stuff she said on that gazebo, I’m surprised to hear it.”
“Hey, now.” Anne Petrinelli was standing behind them in a Patriots ski cap and a bright red parka. “Rachel isn’t so bad. And look at you, Kell! Nice to see your face again!”
Love songs from WLUV played outside, the tinny sound barely audible over the din of the growing crowd.
“I have a garage fridge. Can probably fit six,” Anne told Marty.
Skylar appeared, wearing a red glitter hat, red and white pajama bottoms, and pink unicorn boots. The clipboard she carried had notes, simple scribbles like:
St. John #57, 58, 99
Demorgan #60, 61
Jones #62
Petrinelli #63-88