35. Kiara
thirty-five
Kiara
A n hour later the hot tub has been covered, the floor swept, and we’re back in our robes, having a dinner of canned soup, crackers, and cheese on the couch in front of the fire. I ask Colton a question about the race, and let his voice simply turn me on.
If I’d known sex was so great, I’d have had it sooner.
But something’s telling me sex was great because it was with Colton. He was only giving, not trying to get anything from me. His generosity with me almost brought tears to my eyes.
And the way I had to beg him to let me take care of him? Looking at the fire, I’m brought back to me on my knees, taking him in my mouth, and how until then I’d thought it must be weird at best, but it wasn’t.
It was phenomenal.
He was reluctant at first, because he wanted everything to be about me today. I know that’s why. But pleasuring him might be way up there on my list of favorite things to do. There’s something about the way he fell apart for me that was…
He reaches his hand up my back and into my hair. “Where’d your mind go, sweets?” he says when I don’t chime into whatever he’s saying.
“Just wondering how you got into racing,” I say. It is, partially, the truth. I’ve been meaning to ask him—but not right now.
“That’s not where your mind was,” he says, tugging at my hair.
Busted . “Just thinking how I can totally relate to the sex slave thing now.” I slurp my soup, waiting for his reaction. I’m half hoping he’ll throw me on the floor and have his way, but my vajayjay reminds me we should take a break.
His hand leaves my hair but his mouth twitches at my words. “I got into racing like others get into drugs or petty theft. For the thrill. Basically, because of stuff going on at home at the time.”
I almost challenge him on avoiding the sex slave discussion, but my throat tightens. I set my bowl on the floor and sit cross-legged, facing him.
“Your dad?”
He nods. “I wasn’t too good at handling… whatever was wrong with him. I had so much anger. I needed the escape. And a community where there was little crossover with Emerald Creek.”
“Hard to believe no one in Emerald Creek went to those races.”
He plays with a strand of my hair that keeps falling in my eyes. Funny how I don’t even care how I look right now. “Those who did… just kept it to themselves. It never got to my dad’s ears.”
I frown, wondering how that’s even possible. “How old were you when you started?”
His eyes dance. “Sixteen.”
“Wow. Was that even legal to do that without your parents’ authorization?”
A log rolls in the hearth, prompting Colton to jump off the couch and rearrange the fire. “Course not,” he says as he adds a fresh log to the stack. “The race itself wasn’t legal at the time.”
The couch dips as he sits back, and we both turn our gaze to the crackling fire. “Who got you into it?”
He drags my legs onto his lap and strokes my knees. “You should have been a detective.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“You could still be a detective. You’d get benefits.”
I’ll let this go. It doesn’t matter now, does it? “What made your dad go sober?” I ask instead. That’s a more important side of Colton’s story.
He takes a deep breath. “I think it was when Grace left for Texas. We were worried about her for a while, and when she came back, I think that’s when it hit him. That alcohol was keeping him away from the family. That he could still turn things around. Nothing lasts forever. Not even when you mess up. You can still pick yourself up and make things right.”
The Dennis I know is a good guy—I think. But what do we know of what goes on behind closed doors? “At the end of the day, he was a good person,” I offer, taking his hand between mine. I want to tell him he was luckier than me as far as parents go, but this isn’t a contest.
Colton gives my bare legs a soft squeeze. “Every person makes their own decisions in life. It’s nothing someone else says or does. What your dad did… It was never about you, Kiara. It was about him all along.”
“I know.”
“He didn’t need to shut you off. He could have faced the music and still have his daughters in his life.”
My heart clenches. This is not the discussion I wanted to have. I wanted to talk about Colton, get to know him better. But that’s who he is. He thinks about others before himself. Particularly, it seems, when it comes to me. It’s his love language to try and fix things. In cars as in people. “That’s the thing, though. She told me it was my fault. For a seventeen-year-old, it’s near impossible to not believe it.”
He gives my thighs a squeeze. “It’s totally impossible. You know that, right?”
I nod. I don’t answer that the hardest part for me was losing my twin that day. What she did with David would have been hard to come back from, but to top it off she turned against me after what Dad did to us, and I didn’t get it. There was a theme there—I just didn’t want to see it. But I don’t want to talk about this right now. Right now is for happiness.
For the night and day that we stay stuck here, I focus on our own little bubble. There’s so much to discover. Eating berries out of each other’s lips. Showering together. Staying tangled all night and waking to a steamy cup of coffee brought by a totally naked Colton.
We sip it looking out the cathedral window of the A-frame. Then we put the robes on and take a second cup snuggled on the sectional. The storm is over, and the snow glistens as if millions of diamonds were spread on it.
Colton pulls me against him. “Seems like we don’t have a reason to stay here anymore.” His hand moves up and down my arm and we stay like that for a moment, taking in the peace, until he stretches out and stands. “I’m gonna go clear the car.”
“I’ll help.”
He takes our cups to the kitchen. “I only saw one shovel.”
I follow him. “I’m sure there’s another.”
“Sweets.” He swivels and grabs my shoulders. “I know you’re a strong, independent woman. I’m not gonna question that.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Okay,” he concedes. “Lemme get the bulk of it out, and you can help with scraping the windows and shit.”
I get on my toes and kiss the tip of his nose. “Much better. Meanwhile I’ll sit here and watch you flex your muscles while I do my nails.”
He chuckles. “You do that.”
Once he’s outside, I rummage through the cupboards and the stuff we bought at the deli and get started on an apple pie. While it’s in the oven, I join Colton and help him finish clearing the car of snow.
Glancing up at the A-frame with its fairy lights twinkling against the backdrop of snow and evergreens, my thoughts drift to the barn I visited, and my conversation with Emma. Baking the pie earlier, I was thinking how cool it would be to work each day in that type of environment—something between a home and a shop. A place where everyone would want to stop by to pick up dessert or order a birthday cake with pop-up clowns. With the setup the way it is, I’d have ample space to continue making pastries for Chris and Chloe—and even Millie. It would be perfect.
“Where’s your mind at, sweets?” Colton says, bringing me against him with one arm as we walk back to the house.
I clear my throat. “Well, I could use some advice on something.”
“Yeah?” We ditch our shoes and coats as we enter the house. “Damn it smells good in here.”
“It’s for your friend, or the housekeeper.” I’m trying to find the right words to ask him my question.
He grunts.
“I only had enough apples for one pie.”
He chuckles. “What’s the advice you need?” He moves to the living room area to straighten the throw pillows, then moves to the chimney and starts sweeping the ashes.
I set my hands flat on the kitchen counter. “So… I’ve been looking for a place for my business?”
He glances at me. “Uh-huh.”
“And I saw the cutest place. Perfection.”
He straightens, his attention all on me, excitement showing on his features as I describe the Dewey’s barn to him.
“The only problem,” I say once he’s sitting on a barstool right next to me, “is that it needs a…”—what’s the name again?—“a variance.”
He grunts and makes a face.
“I’m not asking you to pull any strings or anything, I’m just asking if you think it’s doable. Like, what are my chances? How hard is it to get a variance? Anything I should be aware of?”
He rubs his face. “Didn’t it use to be a farm stand?”
Yes! Yes it did. Emma was right. Colton is exactly the person to talk to. He knows about these things. “Maddie—that’s the realtor—said something about using the owner’s Agricultural… Use?” I’m not sure about the verbiage anymore.
“Yeah, you’re not a farmer. That won’t stand. You said Maddie, right?”
I nod. “Maddie Parker.”
Something passes on his face. “Uh-huh. And the place is cute inside?” He draws me between his legs, his hands resting on my hips.
“Adorable.”
He brushes a strand of hair off my forehead. “Fit for a pastry shop?”
“More than enough.”
“Price is right?” The rough pad of his thumb grazes my earlobe.
“Price is too good to be true. That’s why I wonder about the whole permitting thing.”
He frowns. “You’re right. Let me look into it.”
The finality in his tone worries me a bit. “Colt, I’m not asking you to do anything about it, right? Just asking for advice. Your opinion .”
His gaze lights up, joy dancing in his eyes. “Sure.”
“I heard Justin loud and clear when you were appointed. No favors, okay?”
His eyebrows shoot up, mock disbelief painted on his face. “You heard that? Seemed to me you were very preoccupied with your dating app that day.”
Busted. “Yes I was. There was someone whose profile was… calling to me. Are you saying I shouldn’t have hearted on Nigel ?”
He boops my nose. “You’re cute, you know that?”
I give his biceps a squeeze. “I’m serious. Don’t make me regret asking you for advice.”
His features turn serious. “Sweets, it’s a board of five people. Our meetings and votes are public. No one is doing anyone a favor. You asked me for advice. I just need to look into it to give you the best possible advice .” He cups my face in his big hand. “Nothin’ more than looking into it.”
Our lips touch lightly. “Okay,” I whisper against his mouth.
The scent of caramel and apples calls me back to reality. “I think the pie is ready. We should get ready to go.”
We clean the place up together, and it feels good and even fun wiping the shower and sink while the sheets and towels are in the wash, giving the place a quick vacuum, bringing fresh logs inside.
Making the bed together.
My heart does pinch a bit there, I have to admit. After I fluff the last pillow against the headboard, Colton wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, rocking me to the sound of his heartbeat. “This is where we begin, Kiara. I don’t want you to be sad about that.”
I lift my eyes to him. “I’m not sad. I’m… emotional.”
His head jerks back imperceptibly. “Emotional’s good,” he declares before taking my mouth with his. After he pulls away, he says, “Let’s go home now,” and holds my hand as we leave the bedroom.