Zero Forks

by Cat Johnson

  “No. He’s just on loan for the night.” Standing, he glanced back at me and added, “Hey, even a natural needs a little help sometimes.”

  I couldn't fight him on that either. “I guess so.”

  Scooping up Stewie, Boone braced him on one hip and turned toward me. “Since dinner’s almost ready, I’m thinking I’ll help him wash his hands right quick now and then give him a bath after we eat. Then he can go right to bed afterward.”

  “Um, okay. Thank you.” I really didn’t give Boone enough credit. He handled so much around here. So much more than he was hired for. “Dinner smells good.”

  He grinned at the compliment. “I grabbed some stuff from the farm stand.”

  “You’re really going to have to let me reimburse—"

  “Nope,” he said as he turned toward the doorway. "Come on, bud. To the sink we go. We have to wash our hands for dinner.”

  “Romeo too!” Stewie proclaimed.

  “Okay.” He laughed. “Romeo too.”

  Boone’s cell phone was clutched in Stewie’s tiny fist. I heard the movie still playing.

  When he twisted in Boone’s arms to look for the dog, the phone flew right out of his hand, landing on the floor with a thud.

  “Shit. Fuck.” My eyes got wide as those very adult four-letter words also flew, right out of Stewie’s little mouth.

  Boone froze just as I had, both of us deciding what to do. How to react.

  “Um, so we also need to talk about that.” Boone cringed.

  I drew in a breath. “We can discuss that after he goes to bed.”

  He nodded, then glanced at the bottle. “You might want to have a little more wine before we have that conversation.”

  I had a feeling he might be right.

  We ate a wonderful dinner—sausage with peppers and onions, all from Boone’s family’s farm market. Stewie had a hot dog with ketchup and managed to wear most of it on his shirt, not to mention his face and hands, so Boone took him upstairs to the tub.

  By the time Boone came downstairs from giving Stewie a bath and tucking him in for bed, I was seated at the kitchen island, elbow deep in my bag filled with the papers I’d brought home with me.

  “So about the cussing.” He looked miserable as he came around to stand in front of me. “I have to explain. I’m just not used to having him around. And especially at the farm, around my brothers. I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how bad I feel.”

  “Don’t. I’ve said a few choice words in front of him before. Though I usually stick to the s-word and not the f-word.”

  He cringed. “I know. And I’m going to do better. In fact, tomorrow I’m setting up a cuss jar. Every time I slip, I have to put in money.”

  “Boone, you don’t have to—” I shook my head.

  “Nope. I want to. That money can go toward something special for Stewie.” He let out a short laugh. “There should be plenty, at least in the beginning until I get used to it.”

  “So he gets spoiled because you have a potty mouth?” I asked, as always, amazed at how this man gave his all to care for my nephew.

  “Exactly,” he grinned.

  Boone smiled with his whole body. It was like happiness bubbled from within him. That usually annoyed me in people.

  For some reason, in him it didn’t.

  “So, did you get in the bathtub with him?” I asked, eyeing his soaked T-shirt.

  Good thing it was navy blue and not white or the man would be a contender to win a wet T-shirt contest.

  “I might as well have.” He snorted. “I should toss this in the dryer.”

  Before I could suggest he just leave it on, or even better, go upstairs and put on a nice thick sweatshirt or something a lot less tempting, he’d whipped the shirt off and was strutting away from me and toward the laundry room, his muscled back working as he wadded the shirt up in this hands.

  Damn, the man was perfection.

  And, he was not for me.

  After that reminder I forced my eyes down to the stack of mail I’d grabbed from my apartment on my way home.

  My gaze hit on a big thick cream-colored envelope.

  Only one thing came in an envelope like that. An invitation. Specifically, a wedding invitation.

  With trepidation, I glanced at the return address and my devastation was complete as I read the name. I knew what it was without opening the envelope, but I tore into it anyway, hoping against hope I was wrong. Maybe my aunt and uncle were writing to invite me to something else.

  Yeah, right.

  Steeling my nerve, I pulled out the thick embossed card. And there it was. Just as I feared. My cousin was getting married—I glanced at the date—in less than two weeks from now!

  I flipped the envelope over, saw the yellow forward sticker, and confirmed what I already suspected. She’d sent the invitation to my old address. The apartment where I’d lived with my ex until just about six months ago.

  My mail was still being forwarded from there to my current apartment.

  This missive from Hell had taken weeks to reach me.

  My stomach twisted. Could I get out of this?

  Could I return that tiny response card with a no and say I can’t attend? Could I pretend I never got the invite at all since it had gone to the wrong address first?

  I knew the answer. No. Not without causing a family scandal that would be talked about forever.

  But how could I attend? He was going to be there. Hell, he’d probably be in the wedding party since he was one of the groom’s best friends.

  My ex. The man who’d ruined me for all other men and not in the good way.

  And chances were very good he’d be there with her.

  I’d knew from the grapevine—and through a little cyber stalking—that he was back with the woman he’d been serious with for years before me. They’d met freshman year of college and dated for like seven years before they’d broken up.

  Greg obviously hadn’t forgotten her during the four years he’d dated me, lived with me, since she was the woman he’d gone running back to almost immediately after he’d dumped me.

  Four years. Living together. Talking about our future. Then bam! He broke it off, coincidentally just two weeks before our lease was up, leaving me reeling and homeless and emotionally devastated.

  I hadn't been able to eat. I couldn’t sleep. What I did do, because I had to, was find a new apartment and move everything I owned. Thank goodness for Kim and her husband and his pick-up truck.

  And now, just when I’d started to get my life reordered after my sister’s deployment and Stewie becoming part of my life, this.

  Against the straight jacket of emotions binding my chest I struggled to breathe while staring at the invitation, shaking in my trembling hand.

  “You okay?”

  I glanced up from the devastating card to find Boone—still shirtless—looking concerned.

  “Fine.”

  He narrowed his eyes, evaluating me. “That’s a lie.”

  Completely invading my privacy he strode over and stood behind me so he could see the invitation over my shoulder.

  I was so shaken at the prospect of seeing Greg again, I couldn’t even rally enough to scold Boone for sticking his nose into something clearly not his business.

  “Who are they?” he asked after reading what was obviously a wedding invitation.

  “My cousin and her fiancé.”

  “And you don’t want to go?”

  I let out a snort. “You could say that.”

  He was freakily good at guessing what I was feeling. Although if I looked half as bad as I felt, it wouldn’t be all that hard to guess I would rather go in for a root canal than attend this wedding.

  “So don’t go,” he said.

  If only it were that easy. I angled in the chair, twisting to look up at him standing behind me.

  Damn, he had nice muscles. And why hadn’t he put on another shirt?

  He’d asked me something. What was that again?
/>   Oh yeah. The wedding.

  “It’s my mother’s sister’s daughter. I can’t not go. My mother would never allow that.”

  There would have to be some unquestionable excuse to get me out of this one. Incarceration. Coma. A stint on the International Space Station. None of which I saw pending in my near future.

  He glanced between the card and me. “Okay, so go and get drunk.”

  I sniffed out a laugh. That would be dangerous. A toxic combination. Alcohol and emotions didn’t mix well.

  I’d only just recently stopped waking up in the middle of the night furious or crying over Greg. I’d been in bad shape post break-up.

  I still felt as if I was being held together by duct tape. He’d broken something in me that would never heal completely.

  Even years from now I knew there’d still be scars. I’d changed. He’d changed me. I’d never be the same again.

  I’d certainly never give myself to love again. Never completely trust again.

  But none of that mattered. That I’d have to get through the ceremony and reception without vomiting every time I saw Greg with Jana was a real concern, based on how the wine I’d drank today was currently threatening to come back up. And that was just from seeing an invitation.

  What would being face to face with them do to me?

  Boone moved around to stand in front of me. The next thing I knew he was squatting down next to my chair so we were almost eye level.

  Damn, he had nice eyes. I’d never gotten to stare into them this closely before. Hazel didn’t come close to describing the gorgeous color, a mix of green and gold and brown.

  And what were those muscles that bulged so high in the space between his neck and his shoulders? Did all men have them? I hadn’t noticed them on Greg.

  I should not, I would not, let myself be attracted to Boone.

  Greg had broken me. Boone would too. It was only a matter of time before he found himself a nice young Mudville girl. I needed to stop coveting what I couldn’t have and concentrate on the problems at hand. One of which was how Boone was currently invading my personal space.

  “Yes?” I asked, the question sounding a bit grumpier than I’d intended as I tried to deal with his close proximity and how it made me feel.

  “There’s something else wrong with you. This isn’t just you not wanting to go to some cousin’s wedding. What is it?”

  The whiff of something that smelled like the forest, whether it be his soap or antiperspirant or just him, was a big reminder that I, as his boss, shouldn’t be this close to him, my employee.

  I leaned to get farther from him and hit the back of the chair. But even if I couldn’t distance myself from him physically, I sure as hell had to try to distance myself emotionally.

  “It’s nothing that concerns you. Is Stewie all good?” I asked, clearly changing the subject after I cut off his invasion into my private matters.

  He watched me for another second, looking almost hurt. I’d been harsh. I felt bad about that. Just one more thing for me to deal with.

  Finally, he stood, giving me back enough space I could breathe again without getting a lung full of his enticing scent.

  “Yeah. He’s good. The dog crawled into bed with him. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Um. I guess.” Right now, the dog was the least of my worries.

  A kid. A dog. A hot young man. All under my roof. A huge old Victorian roof, at that.

  How was this my life?

  A week ago I hadn’t even owned a houseplant in my one-bedroom apartment.

  It was a surreal change. And I wasn’t sure if it was a welcome one or not.

  The past year I’d been digging myself a rut of repetition. Work. Home. Repeat. All while pretending my life hadn’t been turned upside down when Greg had left me.

  The one and only time I’d deviated from my plan was with Jerry. And we’d seen how well that worked out, didn’t we?

  That memory had me wanting to run back to the nice safe life I’d built for myself. A life without hot young shirtless guys, or their dogs.

  But that was also a life without Stewie in it and for now and the next few months that was not possible.

  So I’d deal with the changes. I’d deal with Boone. And I’d deal with this wedding. And Greg. And Jana.

  The dinner Boone had cooked for me churned in my gut.

  “I’m going to start the dishwasher.” He hooked one beefy arm toward the appliance in question, then turned away, treating me again to the back view that was as good as the front.

  He was an impressive male specimen. No doubt about it. And distracting as hell. One look at his muscles scrambled my thoughts.

  Maybe I should bring Boone as my date to this wedding, where I could definitely use a distraction. Ha! That would show Greg. I could imagine his face now seeing me walk in with Boone.

  It might also shut up all my relatives who loved to ask when I’d be getting married. Maybe stem the murmurs about how I was getting old. How I’d never have children. Probably never get married. How I’d die a spinster, alone.

  My blood pressure rose as I anticipated the looks, the questions, the whispers that my attending the wedding alone would cause.

  I blamed Kim for putting the idea of Boone being my date for the awards ceremony in my head. That had to be what was making inviting him to the wedding seem like a good idea.

  But no. I couldn’t bring him as my plus one. Could I?

  I glanced at Boone again. He caught my gaze and smiled his trademark happy-go-lucky smile. The one that said he was up for anything, anytime.

  Hell, maybe I could.

  I glanced at the date on the card one more time, then back up at him. I eyed the wine bottle, sitting right next to me. It was more than half empty.

  I’d had enough wine to make this seem like a good idea. Tomorrow, that might not be the case.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “Boone. What are you doing a week from Saturday?”

  He glanced up and his grin spread wider. “My schedule’s wide open.”

  I reached for a pen and the response card.

  Yup. This was definitely a bad idea. And apparently, I was doing it anyway.

  ELEVEN

  Boone

  Once again it took the better part of the day to finish just my basic chores at the farm, thanks to my little shadow.

  But I did get it all done so my dad was happy and Stone couldn’t ride my ass. It was all good.

  Even Stewie picking up a fist full of horse manure today couldn’t dampen my good mood.

  Pretty much nothing could erase the smile from my face. I was going to a family wedding with Sarah. If that invitation didn’t have potential for romance written all over it, I didn’t know what did.

  I managed to leave the farm early enough to run to the grocery store and grab some necessities for dinner.

  Tonight’s menu was fresh Italian bread and pasta, which I had to buy at the store, served with fresh tomatoes, basil and garlic, all of which I’d grabbed from the farm stand.

  At least that was the adult’s menu. I figured it would pair nicely with Sarah’s nightly glass of wine.

  For the rug rat, I’d put some butter and parmesan cheese on the spaghetti and Stewie would be happy. It’s what I usually served my little cousin when I babysat, without any complaint.

  Easy peasy. In fact, I was so good at this, I even amazed myself.

  And for doing such a great job—and for managing to contain Stewie in the grocery store while only giving in to buying one candy bar—I decided to treat myself and the kid to a visit to the bakery.

  I hadn’t seen Bethany in a few days. More importantly, I hadn’t indulged in one of her honey buns in just as long. I could pick up a few for dessert tonight. I was pretty sure Sarah had never had one.

  A person couldn’t live in Mudville and not have tried one of Bethany’s signature honey buns. That would be a mortal sin.

  “Hey, Stewie. Want to walk over and visit my friend?” I a
sked after stashing the grocery bag in the truck.

  “Yeah,” he answered, although he was so busy trying to open the wrapper on the candy bar I probably could have asked him anything and gotten the same answer.

  Purposely not helping him unwrap the treat he shouldn’t be having before dinner anyway, I locked him down with a grip on the back of his neck and steered him toward the sidewalk, well aware of how slippery and fast this kid could be.

  I couldn’t have him running into traffic after a squirrel or something so I held tight to the collar of his little shirt.

  Once we’d pushed through the door of the bakery, I could relax. Stewie was contained and, judging by the way he ran for the glass display case, I didn’t have to worry about him trying to leave here anytime soon.

  There were reinforcements inside who’d help me corral the boy if needed. Red, who was dating Cash, and Harper, who was dating Stone, stood on one side of the counter, while Bethany remained behind it.

  Bethany’s gaze traveled between me and Stewie. “Hey, Boone. Anything you wanna tell us?”

  I lifted my hands and let them drop in frustration. “Why does everyone jump to the assumption he’s mine?”

  Red held up one finger. “I’d like it noted I didn’t assume he was yours.”

  “Because I’m sure Cash already told you everything.” I scowled at Red and then shot Harper a glance. “I’m sure you already know too, but from Stone.”

  Harper nodded. “Yes. And I’m watching the situation between you and his aunt with much interest.”

  “I hadn’t heard.” Bethany pouted.

  “We’ll fill you in later,” Red said, before turning toward me. “And welcome to our world, Boone. You and this mystery woman get to be in Harper’s next book, just like the rest of us have been.”

  Harper shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just one of the hazards of being friends with a romance writer, I guess.”

  I knew the truth of that. Stone. Cash. Both had ended up as thinly veiled characters in Harper’s books. It had been funny when it was my brothers. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it when it was me.