CHAPTER SEVEN
Luke
Kit’s cheeks flush. “I don’t see how I could have done anything different.”
“You’d be surprised. A lot of people don’t hold up under pressure.”
I could spend all day simply watching her. Yeah, I want reinforcements to get here, but I also don’t want this time with Kit to end. Even injured and with Brigg still a viable threat, being with Kit feels like a sanctuary, a haven of warmth and security in the middle of chaos.
Being here with her feels like a promise of something real between us.
I bite into the muffin and barely stop myself from groaning. It’s damned delicious. “I’d stay at your inn just for the food. This is real good, Katarina.”
She flashes a smile. “The food is one reason to stay at Falls View Inn.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s not called Falls View for nothing.
When we’re not in the middle of a snowstorm, we’ve got a great view of the falls and Love Lock Bridge.
” At my questioning look, she adds, “A century ago two young lovers leapt to their deaths over the falls rather than be separated. Ever since the bridge was built, couples have attached locks to the railing and kept the keys as a symbol of enduring love.”
“Sounds sentimental.”
She shrugs. “Some would say it’s romantic.”
It strikes me that if I want Kit to be mine, I’ll have to up my game. Even injured and dealing with Briggs, I feel the realization hits hard.
Before Kit, there was an emptiness in me that work never touched. With my grandparents gone, all I really have is my mom, and we’re not exactly close. Kit fills that space in a way I didn’t know was possible. There’s a light there. Contentment. A bone-deep sense that she and I are connected.
I don’t know that I believe in love at first sight, but maybe I should reconsider.
The trajectory of my life has taken a sharp turn. From the moment I saw her, my focus shifted. My priorities shifted. I was being honest with her when I told her she’s the one for me.
Kit holds up the sling. “Can I help you put this on?”
I shake my head, forcing my thoughts back to the current situation. “I need both hands free. At least until Briggs is no longer in my custody.”
Light brown brows come down over her hazel eyes of gray and green, and I lift a hand before she can argue. A calmness settles in my chest knowing that my well-being matters to her. That I matter. I want to focus on her and me, but I’ve got shit to take care of. I’ll handle it.
“I’ll be fine. With the break in the storm, Beckett’s got the plows clearing the road now. Emergency vehicles are following right behind them.”
“I expected that,” she says. “I made the muffins for anyone who’s hungry.”
I like that she thought of other people. I push to my feet to check on Briggs. He’s slumped in the chair, eyes closed. The cuffs are still secure. Satisfied, I head back to the kitchen.
Kit has bacon draining on paper towels and is flipping hashbrowns in a pan. She tilts her head. “I hear the plows.”
“So do I.” The distant rumble of heavy vehicles. “You need to pack an overnight bag.”
“Me? Why?”
“They’ll want to haul me to the hospital. I don’t want you left here alone.”
She gives me a look, and I bite back a grin. I like her challenging me. Doesn’t mean I’ll back down, but I enjoy it all the same.
“You’re kidding me, right? You know I’m here on my own most of the time,” she says. “Especially since I closed for a remodel.”
“That was before I knew you. Things are different now.”
Her mouth presses into a thin line.
“You’re too isolated out here,” I insist. “The inn’s a crime scene, the door isn’t secure, and more snow’s coming. You’ll also need to give a statement.”
What I don’t say is that I want her with me. I don’t want to be separated. There’s an irrational fear clawing at me: if I don’t keep her close, she’ll slip through my fingers.
That whatever this is between us will vanish once reality intrudes. We need to talk. I need to know this isn’t all in my head. That she wants something with me too.
Her response to that scorcher of a kiss gives me hope.
Any talk has to wait until I’m not dealing with a GSW. There’s also the fugitive in the next room and local LEOs about to be swarming the place.
She whips eggs in a bowl, then pours them into a pan on the stove. In minutes, she sets a plate in front of me. Scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, bacon. I can’t remember the last time I had a real home-cooked breakfast. She starts arranging muffins in a basket.
“You need to eat too,” I say. “Sit with me?”
She smiles like I’ve asked her on a date instead of inviting her to her own kitchen table. “I will. I just need everything ready first.”
The muffins go on the counter next to an urn of coffee and stacked paper cups. Tea bags sit beside an electric kettle. Sliced oranges scent the air. It hits me that she’s offering more than food, she’s offering comfort.
“You’re a natural at this,” I say, nodding toward the spread.
She shrugs. “It’s what I do for guests, so it’s easy.”
The marshals aren’t guests, but I’m beginning to understand that caring for others is who Kit is. A question nags at me: who takes care of her?
I’ve already decided that’s me. If she’ll let me.
The rumbling of the plows is close now.
“Sit down and eat,” I tell her. “Or you won’t get a chance.”
She brings a plate and a mug of tea to the table. Dark circles shadow her eyes, loose strands slipping free from her braid. We’re both about tapped out.
I take my plate to the sink and glance out the window. A strip of blue cuts through the clouds. In a matter of minutes, this quiet will be gone. This is my last chance to talk with her alone.
“Kit,” I say, turning to her. “I want you to know how much I appreciate you taking care of me.”
Her brows lift. “You appreciate me.”
“Yeah. No.” I wince. “That’s not what I meant. Not exactly. I don’t just appreciate you. I value you.”
She stands and loads the dishwasher with deliberate care. I’m screwing this up.
The snowplow sounds like it’s right outside the window.
“Listen,” I say quietly. “I’m not saying this right.”
“You appreciate me. You value me.” She gives a polite smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I heard you.”
A knock sounds at the door.
“Wait, give me a minute—”
She walks around me to the hall.
“I think your people are here.”