Kissing Books

by Cat Johnson

  So many enjoyable things.

  It wasn’t helping that today she was in a T-shirt with a low cut V-neck that showed off her cleavage nicely, with jean shorts that accentuated her legs. But in spite of all that, my gaze landed on her bare feet, kicked up on the chaise, and the pale pink polish on her toes.

  Everything about her was cute. Even her damn toes. And that’s how I knew I was in trouble with this woman.

  “Don’t need anything,” I said. “You said thank you. That’s enough.”

  “No, it’s not enough. Dinner, maybe? I could take you out. Treat you to a meal. I haven’t been anywhere yet but Red says the bar has good—”

  “No. You’re not taking me out to dinner and treating. No. No way,” I repeated.

  “Why not?” She frowned.

  “No woman is paying for my meal. That’s why not.” I’d never hear the end of it. Not from my brothers. Not from Lainey. Not from anyone else in that bar who happened to see us and see her whip out her gold card or whatever to pay.

  “Okay, caveman. Then I’ll cook you a meal here. Will that be acceptable? Women are allowed to cook in your world, right?” She cocked one eyebrow high.

  I scowled. I wasn’t a caveman. I just knew my brothers better than she did. And long after she was gone, I’d still be dealing with them.

  After she was gone . . . This was the first time it really hit me that Harper wasn’t going to be around forever. Maybe that was what made my decision.

  “Yeah, you can cook me a meal. And I’m not a caveman,” I added.

  “I guess we’ll see about that.” Her lips twitched with a smile. “So, you just stopping by to say hi or are you checking up on me? Actually you probably should check once in a while. I’m not convinced that Petunia and the barn cats aren’t conspiring to murder me and eat my corpse.”

  I laughed. “That only happened one time and it was extenuating circumstances.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  I waved one hand at her concern. “Don’t worry It wasn’t Petunia. Different hog.”

  “Stone—” She looked so terrified I decided to back off.

  In light of her concern, I lied, “Just kidding. That never happened.”

  Hopefully no one would tell her the real truth and throw me under the bus.

  “But actually, I am here about Petunia. Tonight’s the game.”

  She sprung up and searched for her cell phone. “Is it late? Did I lose track of time? I set an alert on my phone. Is it time to go?”

  “We have an hour and a half until kick off. I just thought I’d come by and help you get her into the harness and on the leash. I figured the first time might be a little challenging for you.”

  “For a city girl like me, you mean?” She smirked.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t worry. I’m starting to realize you were right. I might not live in the actual city, but where I’m from is nothing like Mudville. As I get ready to take my pig for a walk, I’m now willing to admit that.”

  And I was willing to admit that maybe city girls weren’t so bad after all.

  “You’re doing fine,” I said.

  “Even if the cats run when I come near them and all Petunia does is snort at me like she’s angry?” she asked.

  “Yes.” I nodded, smiling.

  “I’ll have to take your word for it. So, I suppose I should change. What does one wear for a high school football game in Mudville?” she asked.

  “You happen to have a Mudville Hogs T-shirt?” I asked, knowing she wouldn’t.

  “Uh, no.”

  I grinned. “Then you’re fine just as you are.”

  She glanced down at herself. “Really?”

  “Yeah. We’re not formal around here. Though you really might want to grab yourself a Hogs T-shirt. It’ll drive the locals nuts seeing you wear it.”

  Her eyes lit. “That’s evil and I’m totally going to do it. But you know, you’re a local too.”

  “I am. But I’m finding I have mixed loyalties on certain issues.”

  She raked her gaze up my body, finally settling on my face. “Good to know.”

  Damn. How long before we had to leave? I needed a distraction before I did something crazy, like kiss her.

  The rest of the night went pretty much the same. Harper was tempting and adorable as Petunia dragged her down the sidewalk by the leash while I was laughing too hard to be much help.

  She was gorgeous in the light of the bonfire as she laughed with Red and Bethany, the town baker who’d brought donuts for everyone on the sidelines.

  And I swear Harper didn’t check her cell phone all night. Not even once. And I’d been watching.

  She seemed actually . . . relaxed. Enjoying herself. Like a different person than the one I’d first met and the one I’d encountered in the store. And that was only after one week here in town.

  Maybe Mudville had magical healing properties. Maybe that’s why all the city folk gravitated here, not just for the depressed real estate market and the bargain housing prices.

  That was something to think about.

  But in the meantime, I had to watch my own blood pressure as my family invaded the spot we’d claimed along the sidelines.

  Of course my nosy brothers weren’t going to keep their distance. But it seemed like the entire Morgan clan came over to Harper at some point. She met them all with a big smile and an even bigger hug, even for Cash and Boone, which I didn’t particularly love.

  Her tempting body pressed up against my horn dog brothers? Yeah. Hated that.

  But I was the one who walked her home after the game. Who helped her put Petunia back in the pen and closed up the chickens in the coop for the night.

  And I was also the one who’d laid the blanket on the grass at the game for her and the girls to sit on while I stood. And the one who walked away with just a good night and not that good night kiss I’d been thinking about all damn game.

  I’d never in my life hesitated when it came to a woman. I’d go for it. Sometimes I’d get shot down. Most often I’d get what I wanted.

  But with Harper I realized I was dragging my feet. Coming up with every excuse in the book to not take that shot. And I was afraid I knew why.

  I liked her. I liked her a lot. More than I had any other woman lately. And she was going to leave here one day. Probably one day very soon.

  When she did it was going to suck. A lot.

  I didn’t want that kind of suck in my life. But there was no denying I did want Harper.

  From the Journal of Rose Van de Berg

  MUDVILLE INQUISITOR

  1940

  The first lot inducted by the local draft board left Nov. 28 to join the war.

  THIRTEEN

  Harper

  It’s not that I couldn’t cook. I absolutely could.

  And not just basic stuff either. I put myself through college working in food service. I’d watch what the chefs were doing and how they were doing it.

  I learned everything I could in the kitchen from anyone willing to teach me. And even picked up some tips just from watching those who weren’t willing to give a server the time of day.

  Some had classical training from the Culinary Institute of America, using all the French formal techniques they’d been taught. Others were born and raised in Mexico and cooked kick ass regional foods from home for our staff meals. So I could whip up a pico de gallo like nobody’s business, but I could also create the perfect roux.

  And then there were the dessert recipes I’d grown up with, handed down from my German grandmother—Great Aunt Agnes’s sister. I would drag out those and bake around the holidays.

  The point was, I knew my way around the kitchen even if most days I chose not to exercise that skill.

  What I did not know was why I was getting a judgmental scowl from the cocky farmer standing in my kitchen—or rather in Agnes’s kitchen.

  Stone hadn’t even been inside for five minutes yet. I’d spent all
day shopping, cooking and cleaning to prepare for this dinner I’d offered to make for him, and he’d walked in and immediately started frowning.

  Okay, he had brought me the most beautiful bouquet of late summer flowers I’d ever seen. These were definitely not from a grocery store or any run of the mill floral shop. There were Black-eyed Susans, Zinnia, and Sunflowers mixed in with Lemon Balm and Clover flowers all tied with a maroon colored ribbon.

  It looked amazing. It smelled amazing. I loved the flowers.

  What I didn’t love was him standing over my stove frowning at the steak I’d bought at his own family’s farm stand.

  “You’re not going to cook that in the oven, are you?” He went from staring at the raw steak, ready to be cooked in the broiler pan, to glaring at me.

  “I was planning on it. Professional chefs cook steak under the broiler all the time.”

  “Maybe, if they don’t have a grill and they’re using a professional-grade gas stove with a good hot broiler. You do have a grill and you have a wimpy ass electric broiler.” He reached for the pan with the steak. “Let me handle this.”

  My brows shot up. He was seriously going to take over cooking because I was doing it wrong? “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m taking this out back and starting the grill. I know Agnes has one. I saw it.”

  I wasn’t going to admit I didn’t know how to start the gas grill. I lived in a second floor apartment, for God’s sake. I couldn’t grill there. And even though my parents had a propane grill, my father always started it so I’d never learned how.

  My lack of grill experience aside, I couldn’t have him thinking he was in charge here. This was my house, for now, and I was supposed to be doing the cooking.

  I scurried after him as he strode to the back door and pushed open the screen. “Wait. I don’t even know if there’s propane in the tank.”

  It wasn’t a great objection, but it was a valid one. I didn’t know. Wouldn’t know how to check if I had wanted to know, which until now I hadn’t.

  He didn’t even turn around to answer as he walked down the stairs. “Gas station down the street has tanks if it’s empty.”

  “Oh.” There went that excuse.

  Apparently I would have to accept that he was going to take charge of the meat and I was to be a good cavewoman and let him.

  At least I got to be responsible for all the rest of the dishes. He should be impressed with those . . . hopefully.

  I was pleased with my menu. Or at least I had been until the steak police showed up.

  Homemade coleslaw and a corn salad made with diced green pepper, red onion, cherry tomatoes, fresh squeezed lime juice and olive oil. And I’d actually found some nice fresh crusty bread at the store in town, so I’d thrown together a quick mozzarella and tomato salad swimming in garlicky olive oil to go with the bread.

  For dessert, I’d used some of my many, many eggs to make a lemon meringue pie.

  It had all been a hell of a lot of work and taken way too much time since I had to search for everything I needed in Agnes’s kitchen and huge walk-in pantry.

  I’d started at six in the morning and worked almost until the time he’d arrived. But all the meat connoisseur saw was the steak about to go into the broiler.

  I was starting to broil myself. But I had to be a good host so I said, “I bought beer. Would you like one?”

  “Yeah. That’d be great. Thanks.” At least this time I got a smile as he glanced over his shoulder from his position in front of Agnes’s grill, which seemed to indeed work. “Can you bring me a fork too or something to turn this steak with?” he added.

  “Sure.” It was like I was back in food service and at the whim of the cranky chefs.

  Oh well. Unlike most of them, at least Stone was hot.

  I couldn’t deny that as I reluctantly turned my back on the view of the rock hard muscles flexing beneath his T-shirt as he cleaned the grill with a wire brush he must have found inside it.

  Mom would be proud of me, playing the little woman to the big he-man at my grill. That knowledge alone chafed against my sensibilities.

  But Stone had done some pretty amazing things for me since I’d been here. Built my library. Escorted me for my first pig walk. Brought me those gorgeous flowers.

  I guess I could give him a pass over the steak issue. After all, he had raised the cow that had provided that steak—though I preferred not to think of my food on the hoof. If I started considering that, I’d end up being a vegetarian.

  Armed with my new good attitude in place, I carried two bottles of beer and a big metal fork out the kitchen door . . . and saw something that sucked away all of my hard-won Zen. Stone, surrounded by all the barn cats as they rubbed against his legs, purring so loud I could hear them from where I stood.

  What the hell? They ran away from me and I’d been the one feeding them twice a day for a week. He shows up and they’re all over him.

  Traitors.

  Annoyed I stomped down the stairs.

  “Here.” I handed him the beer and the fork and then turned my attention to the formerly aloof felines. “And you. You’ll all be lucky if I don’t cut off your food.”

  I didn’t mean it, of course, but threatening the snooty cats made me feel better.

  Stone laughed and glanced from the cats to me. “What’s going on?”

  “These cats hate me. But apparently they love you.” I scowled.

  He shook his head. “I’ve got steak. Of course they love me.”

  I humphed at that and pressed the bottle to my lips, taking a big cold, much-needed swig. Again, it all came down to the damn steak. It looked like after thirty years of sliding by, I was going to have to learn to grill.

  “So, it looks like your little library is almost empty. You have more books to stick in there?”

  I was swallowing when he said it and I almost choked. “What do you mean almost empty?”

  He twisted to shoot me a glance. “I mean there was like maybe six or eight books left inside when I drove past on my way into the driveway just now.”

  “I have to go look.” I turned toward the front of the house, then spun back. “You’ll be okay here?”

  He smirked. “Yeah. I think I got this. Go look. I’m good.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” I set my beer on the stone wall and almost sprinted toward the front yard, which is saying a lot since I always joked I’d only run if someone was chasing me.

  I reached the library and skidded to a stop. “Damn.”

  Stone was right. It was almost empty.

  What did that mean? I walked at a slower pace back to Stone, not sure what to think about this new development.

  “You’re right.”

  “Told you.”

  “But why are they taking them?” I said, more to myself than to him.

  “What do you mean, why? You put them there for them to take. You even put that note inside that says take a book, leave a book.”

  “Yeah, but are they taking them to read them and enjoy them? Or are they taking them to like, I don’t know, burn them?”

  “This isn’t Nazi Germany. I doubt the library board is stealing your books to burn them.”

  “I’m not so sure. You weren’t there. You didn’t hear them talking. They could be trying to save the world from the immorality of the dreaded romance novel.”

  “If you’re that worried, I think I can help you out.”

  “How?”

  “Game cam.”

  “Like as in football game?” I shook my head, not understanding.

  “Like a hunting camera. It’s basically a camo camera you strap to a tree. It sits there until something or someone walks by and triggers it. Then it captures a picture on the little memory chip. Then you can see who’s taking them. Want me to set it up for you?”

  “Oh my God. That would be perfect. Would you? If it’s no bother.”

  “It’s no bother. Now go get me a plate. Your steaks are about done.”
r />   “Yes, sir.” I executed what I thought was a pretty good salute. That earned me a raised eyebrow from the steak commander.

  I might tease but I was feeling a little less angry about Stone’s domineering steak ways now that he was going to help me catch the possible book thieves.

  Even when he pissed me off, the man had a way of growing on me. I hadn’t decided yet if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  From the Journal of Rose Van de Berg

  MUDVILLE INQUISITOR

  1941

  The first echelon of the Sixth Army went through Mudville December 6, led by Colonel Theodore Roosevelt and the 26th Infantry.

  FOURTEEN

  Stone

  This wasn’t a date.

  It was a thank you meal because I’d built Harper that box that had meant so much to her.

  So why did it feel like a date? And why was I considering kissing her?

  Okay, maybe I knew the answer to that last question.

  It was because that smart mouth of hers called to me like a siren’s song. And her curvy body looked like it would fit perfectly against mine as I gripped her hips and hauled her close.

  I needed to claim those lips that she’d latched her teeth onto at least half a dozen times tonight, as if she knew that the move was driving me nuts.

  “So, how did you like your steak?” I asked.

  “It was great. Just like the one I had my first night here that I cooked under the broiler.”

  I shook my head even as I let out a huff of a laugh. “Not gonna give that up, are you? Can’t admit I was right.”

  “When and if you’re right, I’d be happy to admit it.” She smiled.

  “Okay.” I smiled back. And fuck, I wanted her and her smart mouth more than ever. Drawing in a breath, I stood. “I’m just going to use your bathroom.”

  Three beers had gone right through me. Besides, I needed to wash my hands. I’d picked up my rib eye to gnaw on the bone—I’m not shy at all but especially not when it comes to steak—and I needed to wash my hands.