Chapter 6 #3
“And Rachel’s the person in charge of that? How fancy!” She frowned. “I thought she went into environmental policy, like you, Kell. What does chocolate have to do with that?”
“Her career took a turn, Mom. I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“Why wouldn’t you ask?”
“Because I want to spend as little time around her as possible.”
“Kell,” she said with compassion. “You’re still nursing that wound after all these years? You know, Portia says Rachel lacks killer instinct. I’m sure she didn’t do what you think she did.”
Every muscle in Kell’s body turned to stone. Especially the one in his jaw.
“Mom.”
Their eyes met, hers kind and curious, his feeling like two slabs of flint.
“Okay. Message received. Just… don’t be a jerk to her.”
“I would never be a jerk to anyone.”
“You have a stubborn streak and you can come off as gruff.”
“That’s not a stubborn streak. It’s who I am.”
“It’s who you are now, Kellan. Not who you were before.”
“Rachel’s a big reason I am the way I am now, Mom.”
“Maybe you should listen to her.”
“I spent hours stuck to her yesterday. I didn’t have a choice.”
“You don’t carry feelings for as long as you have about what happened in D.C. if you don’t feel it deep.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“If you say so.”
“No. It’s objectively ridiculous.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it, Mom.”
Luke tapped his horn and shouted, “Give it up, Kell. Mom isn’t backing down.”
“Neither am I!”
“I have to get back to work. You want to be stranded at Kenny’s at 6:30 in the morning? You know how horny that rooster of his can get.”
Right. Should he have warned Rachel about Doodle? Too late now.
“Saved by a rooster,” Deanna said, bending down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “If you have a chance, listen to her.”
“Mom.”
Rolling the window up, he let the glass protect him from further lobbying.
Then pulled away, her words ringing in his ears.
By the time he drove up Kenny’s long driveway, he’d forgotten about Doodle.
Kenny had already plowed his driveway and shoveled a path to the trailer door.
Like loads of guys in town, Kenny plowed in the winter, running a landscaping company in the other three seasons.
He worked for the Luview family tree service sometimes, during surges, to make something extra.
His wife, Lisa, cleaned houses during tourism season, which made her wicked busy right now.
Luke parked next to him as Kell got out of the rental car and opened the back door, grabbing two pieces of luggage. He’d tried texting Rachel to give her a heads up that he was coming, but he guessed internet was out here.
A friendly knock on the door would have to do.
He reached the door and was balancing the luggage in his hands, trying to get one free, when he heard a loud scream from inside, a thump, then the creak of the door opening.
And got a full-face whomp as Rachel, wearing only a towel, threw her entire body straight into his.
No arms free to pinwheel, all he could do was pivot so they twisted to land in the softer snow, Kell letting go of the luggage and wrapping his arms around her to cushion her fall.
Legs wet, Rachel was otherwise dry. The large towel wrapped around her was one of the ubiquitous pink, white, and red beach towels sold in every gift shop. It read, LOVE YOU, HOT SPRINGS! TAKE THE PLUNGE!
His shoulder and hip took the brunt of the fall, her face pressing into his earflap.
For someone he hadn’t seen in five years, they’d spent a lot of time in each other’s faces over the last twenty-four hours. More than he had with anyone in, well…
Five years.
“HELP!” she screeched in Kell’s ear, wiggling madly. It was easily below ten degrees outside, and she was naked under that towel. Sweet curves slid against his body, his hands trying hard to find a respectable spot to touch.
And failing.
He had to act fast. An L.A. native might understand what it felt like to be cold, but she clearly didn’t grasp what Maine’s particular brand of cold could do to her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She looked terrified.
“He’s in the shower!”
A rush of protectiveness shot through him. Single woman, alone in a trailer, a few hundred feet from Kenny’s place. Maybe some guy had decided to have some inappropriate fun. The bunkhouse frat guys could get a little out of hand sometimes.
“Who?”
“SATAN!”
His wiring must have gotten scrambled. They struggled up, her legs tucking under her as she began shivering, the curve of a breast visible for a split second.
“You need to get back in the trailer immediately, Rachel,” he ordered. “It’s too cold.”
Plus, he was getting hard. Delivering her car was about ending involvement in her life.
Not adding to his body’s torture.
“But he’s in there!”
“Who?”
“SATAN!”
Not a stitch of makeup on her, dark hair wet and resting in flat waves against her face, Rachel was more beautiful au naturel than she was yesterday.
Though he could do without the Satan nonsense.
“You didn’t sleep nearly enough if you’re seeing Satan in the shower.”
“SATAN IS A SQUIRREL!”
“You really shouldn’t name the wildlife. Don’t get attached. They’re prey, you know?”
“I AM SATAN’S PREY!”
Kell did not say a word in response to that, because really… there was so much he could say. For now, he’d be a gentleman.
“I could lend you Calamine. She’d kill it for you for sport.”
“Then I’d have a dead squirrel and a blood-thirsty bobcat in my cottage!”
“Cottage.” He snorted. “Still milking that delusion?”
“It’s easier to tolerate it if I call it a cottage.”
“Then I should start calling you Mother Teresa.”
“Are you going to help me, or tease me?”
Behind him, Kell knew Luke was sitting in the cruiser, laughing his ass off at the sight of whatever this was.
“Anyway,” she continued, clinging to her towel, “I’m not going back in there! Satan the Squirrel got inside last night in the middle of the snowstorm, after tap dancing all over the roof of the cottage.”
“Trailer.”
“Whatever. And then Godzilla came along.”
“God… zilla?”
Staying up for so long yesterday had obviously tipped her over into some sort of sleep-deprived psychosis.
“Yes! Some enormous beast kept shaking the trailer over and over all night.”
At least he got her to use the word trailer.
“Shaking?”
“I thought it was an earthquake! Then I heard the sounds.”
“Sounds?”
“WHHHHUUUUUUHHHH,” she moaned, her impression of a moose in the middle of mating so distinctly perfect, he burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny!”
He was about to tell her he knew exactly what caused the “earthquake” in her trailer, and it wasn’t Godzilla, but then, in the background, Doodle the rooster let out his morning battle cry.
“WHAT’S THAT?” she screeched.
“Mothra.”
“Stop it!”
“That’s Doodle the rooster, Rachel. And you’re going to be in bad shape if we don’t get some clothes on you.”
“I’m not going in there with Satan lurking in every corner.”
“We’re not talking about your soul. We’re talking about the trailer.”
“Get the thing out of my place!”
He moved her arms around his shoulders. “Hold on.”
“What?”
“When I stand, just hold on.” Slowly sliding his arm under her knees, he got his footing and stood in one motion, lifting her. The towel still around her was enough for modesty, but one glance down and he got a lovely eyeful of cleavage.
“Don’t take me in there!”
“Nowhere else that’s warm.” Carefully balancing, he grabbed the door latch and opened it.
Satan scampered out, carrying a foil-wrapped chocolate heart in his mouth.
“Hey,” he said to the little beast. “That’s probably toxic for you. Don’t eat that, buddy.” It ignored Kell and disappeared under the trailer.
“Did you just call Satan your ‘buddy’?”
Unceremoniously dumping Rachel on the lower bunk, Kell looked down at her. Considering how flushed and upset she was, the woman was damned attractive.
Maybe he was fighting something he shouldn’t. Maybe he should cross the gap between them, make a move, see if they needed to get this out of their systems. Sniping at each other wasn’t doing them any favors.
Maybe what they needed was rage sex.
Before he could stop that sequence of thoughts from invading his rational mind, Luke blipped his siren once, just long enough to make the point clear:
He needed to get going.
Closing his eyes and swallowing hard, he lifted his eyebrows.
“I came here to drop off your car. It’s fixed.” He tossed the keys to her, which she caught in one hand. The action made the towel drop a bit, giving him another nice eyeful he pretended not to see, quickly looking away.
“Fixed?
“Yep. And until you plowed into me just now, I was carrying in two pieces of your luggage. They’re out in the snow.”
He turned to leave.
“You’re just going to leave them out there?”
The huff of laughter felt freeing. She was a piece of work.
“I’m not your bellman, Rachel. You have a working car. A warm place to stay. I cast Satan out of your quarters. My work here is done.”
“But–”
“Welcome to Love You, Maine, where even the wildlife likes to watch you naked.”
Then he couldn’t help himself.
He winked.
Because the look on her face was worth it.
So was the view he got of Rachel Hart wearing only a towel.
And an expression that said she would murder him in his sleep if it were legal.