Chapter 12 Little Taste Of Home （Kane） #2
“No, we used to go there plenty.” She grins. “My granddad loved his big dinners at home but he couldn’t keep up with them every day. And after a day out hiking? We were ready for food to just leap into our mouths.”
“Dad’s an awesome cook,” Sophie says, and maybe it’s my imagination, but it sounds a little pointed.
“You think so, huh?” Margot slides me a long glance, and I have to remind myself we’re not alone to act on it the way I want. “I agree, he has a knack. If he cooks for you kids at home and it’s half as amazing as what he whips up here, you guys are lucky.”
My face heats under my beard.
“Can’t cook all the time, but I try. I’m glad the diner gives us an easy option. Less dishes,” I say.
“Fewer.” Sophie pushes her glasses up her nose seriously.
“Come again?”
“She’s correcting your grammar,” Margot says kindly, her eyes dancing. “Fewer dishes to do.”
“Thanks, teacher. We’ll see who takes in more history today,” I tease.
“I’ll remember everything!” Sophie insists with a pout. “Dan’s good at math, but I live and breathe English and history.”
“See what it’s like with two kids smarter than me?” I let out an exaggerated groan and they laugh.
The museum is a small wooden building next to the lighthouse. The kids sprint ahead of us the second we’re parked, skipping all the informational boards so they can look at the old fishing boats outside.
“Guys, slow down. Take it in and read,” I call after them.
“Let them go,” Margot says. A jolt of electricity spikes up my arm when she brushes against me. “The boats are way cooler for a nine-year-old anyway. They can read anything they miss online, old man.”
“Did I feel old this morning?” I growl in her ear.
Her red cheeks are the only answer I need.
Inside, there are glass cases bursting with colorful sea glass and bright lures in every shade of green and blue. Plus, a bunch of small plaques with old photos, explaining how vital fishing was to this area.
Sully Bay used to be a serious fishing village, a lot like Bar Harbor. Its trade in lobsters, crabs, and fish practically built the town.
Over the past fifty years, it’s pivoted toward tourism as Acadia started drawing bigger crowds, becoming a bucket for the spillover summer crowds.
We turn a corner, coming up to a large wooden rowboat hung on hooks—and come face-to-face with Lee What’s-His-Face.
The ceramics guy from the market.
He breaks into a lazy smile when he sees us.
“Oh, hello,” he says, holding up his hand casually. “Nice to see some familiar faces.”
“Lee, right?” Margot beams right back at him, oblivious to the way I’ve tensed.
Stupid animal jealousy.
After last night, his chances of bedding her are nil, if they ever existed at all.
I know I shouldn’t even let the thought invade my mind.
We’re having a family outing in an old fishing museum, for fuck’s sake, not dancing in a bar.
“That’s right. Good memory.” Lee gives her a nod that makes me bristle. “Are you enjoying my products?”
“Oh, yes, they’re stunning. We’re using the mugs already, aren’t we, Kane?”
“Yeah.” Now I wish I’d left them wrapped up. I don’t take my eyes off the guy, though my voice is friendly. “They’re great for coffee and hot cider. Very sturdy.”
“Are you big into fishing or history?” Margot asks.
“This place? Yes, I suppose.” Lee rubs the back of his neck. “Honestly, I like to come here for the sea glass more than anything. There’s a lot of inspiration there, especially when you don’t see glasswork like it anymore. Bit of a history buff, too, I guess.”
“I wish that was me,” Margot says with a sigh. “But after a little while, it just goes in one ear and out the other. I like having the big picture more than the nitty-gritty. And yes, the sea glass is lovely. I can see why this place would make any artist happy.”
“We find our muse where we can, Miss Blackthorn. There’s so much beauty everywhere, if people would just open their eyes and look, instead of getting it from screens.” His voice sharpens, even if his smile remains pleasant enough.
Huh.
And he keeps looking at me while he talks to her, like he’s expecting me to say something profound.
I don’t get it.
The weirdness only deepens the urge to pull Margot forward and leave him to his day.
Must just be the testosterone still whipping around my veins from last night. Hormones will make a man hallucinate, jumping at threats that aren’t really there.
I always had a possessive streak, yeah, but not like this.
Always figured Daria desensitized me with her shit. I mean, how jealous can you get once you’ve been with a woman who isn’t faithful?
Turns out, it’s plenty, if the molten heat in my blood’s any indication.
“We’re here for the kids. The school year just started and they need to learn something on this trip for homework,” I say, nodding at where Dan and Sophie are pressed up against a glass case with shells and preserved sea animals.
“Ah, good.” Lee draws the word out. “There’s plenty of that around here. But if it’s history you’re after, there’s an old fort just a few miles up the road. Goes back to the War of 1812, I believe. Really impressive cannons. Your boy will love it. You shouldn’t miss it.”
“Cannons?” Dan immediately turns and runs up to us. “Did you say a fort, mister? Can we check it out, Dad? Please?”
Sophie drifts back toward us when she hears her brother pleading.
“A fort would be cool,” she says. “Maine had a lot happening in that war. I read about it on my tablet a few days ago.”
Margot meets my eyes over the kids’ heads.
There’s no way we can say no, and she knows it.
“I guess it’s history day, guys,” she says, smiling up at Lee. “Thank you. I can’t believe I came here so often as a kid and we never went!”
“It’s worth the trip,” he says. “Lots to do and really informative.”
“We’ll finish the museum first,” I tell the kids.
Dan’s shoulders immediately slump.
“But the fort would be so cool,” he insists.
“It won’t take long, kiddo.” Margot nods at the sign. “You didn’t even see the mini aquarium yet.”
That’s enough to get their attention, and they sprint off again, Sophie slightly behind Dan in her bulky shoes.
Lee nods at us politely and heads for the entrance.
As we follow the kids at a more leisurely pace, I slide Margot’s hand into mine. Her fingers curl around mine.
Neither of us say anything.
We haven’t talked about what this means or what it’s meant to be.
Hell, I’m not sure we need to.
We both know it shouldn’t be anything.
It can’t last, and it won’t.
Like the old sailboat out back, we’re two strange ships passing in the night, flashing our lights to feel less lonely.
But her hand feels warm in mine, and for now, it’s a good day.
Today, we make our own meaning, however temporary.
That’s rare enough to make me stop fussing and live in the moment.
It’s raining by the time we leave the fort two hours later, which turned out to be larger and more interesting than the fishing museum.
Guess there’s no faulting Lee for his recommendation.
The windows are cracked in the back, letting in the fresh, earthy scent of fading leaves, and the kids bicker back and forth lightheartedly.
“I can’t believe it closes at one,” Dan says in disgust. “Who’s done looking around a place that big by then?”
“I know, Bud.” I flash Margot an amused glance. She has her elbow braced against the door, her hair tossed by the wind.
This is one of those precious moments you only remember after it’s gone. Like passing scenes from a movie you barely remember and never get to replay.
Right now, I can’t remember the last time we had a day this peaceful.
Getting away from New York and the routine back there was the best decision I’ve made all year. And not just because of the bombshell beside me.
“The drums were so cool,” he says. “Like, so cool with their sheepskins. And so old. And did you see the eagles painted on the side? Can’t believe they’re two hundred years old and not worn out!”
“You’re hooked now, little man. Imagine having to play those drums on a battlefield. They were important,” I say.
“Yeah, it’s crazy! I love history when it’s cool like that with soldiers and battles. Way better seeing it than just reading about it in some old book. We need more field trips where you can get to see how people used to live.”
“Careful, or you’ll wind up a history professor like your great uncle,” I tease. “Or maybe a rock star who makes people love the ballads of 1812 again.”
And I’ll be damn proud of him, either way.
“As long as I can drum,” Dan agrees.
“Hey, look!” Sophie holds the windup Army drummer they bought from the gift shop.
They were right on the verge of closing, and it was an effort to hustle them through in time to get something.
In the end, they settled on their little prizes, and they pass the shared figurine back and forth.
“So GOATed,” Dan says as the drummer’s arms move. The tiny sticks make a tapping noise.
It has so much charm it’s distracting.
“Eyes on the road,” Margot says, laughing and pushing the hair back from her eyes. “You can play with it when you get home.”
I snort, braking and turning onto the road that will take us back to the lake house.
“I have it under control.”
“Sure you do, big guy.”
My dick loves the way she says that a little too breathy, low and teasing with a hint of promise.
Even if this thing between us has an expiration date, it’s damn fun in the meantime.
We pass a speeding pickup truck with one side dented in as we turn down the home stretch just before the gravel road.
I swerve to avoid it, just to allow extra room, distracted by thoughts of Margot later.
From her glance, she knows.
“Sure,” she says in that throaty voice. “Under control, right?”
“Sophie, give it back,” Dan whines from the back seat. “Come on, you’re hogging it!”
“Guys,” I say sharply as the house comes into view. Weird how somewhere so new can feel like home. “That’s enough for one day, don’t you think?”
“We should’ve gotten them two drummers,” Margot says.
“There was only one left.” I lower my voice. “Soph will lose interest as soon as we’re back inside, anyway. She only wanted it because Dan did.”
“Yeah, kids.” She snorts. “That sounds about right.”
As we pull up, I meet her gaze for a heated moment.
Rain splatters the windshield while they continue razzing each other in the back, thinking I don’t notice.
I sigh.
This was a good day. We need more like it.
“See you inside?” Margot snatches the keys from the central console and grins at me.
I don’t have time to answer before she’s unbuckled her seat belt and sprints out into the rain, holding her jacket above her head and laughing.
Dan’s next, the little 1812 drummer boy firmly in hand.
I’m last. I lock the vehicle after Sophie gets out and follow them to the back door.
Everyone’s still laughing until Margot walks into the house and screams.