by Hart, Gemma
Kat pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push back but Jason kept a firm hold around her waist and neck, leaving her no room to budge. The heat of his touch seared her skin. His tongue played with hers, expertly teasing and taunting her.
“You stay tonight,” he breathed against her lips, breaking their kiss before plunging his tongue back in again, “and I can’t promise you safety.” His grip on the back of her neck tightened, squeezing her almost painfully. “I can’t be gentle. I’m not gentle.”
His hand moved from her waist up to her breasts, squeezing them tightly. “Stay tonight,” he warned, “and you’ll get bruised.”
Kat was completely breathless from the onslaught of Jason’s touches. She futilely fought against him but at the same time felt her body heat at his touch. She felt that burning flame of something forbidden and fiery grow within her. But looking up at his dark eyes, she knew this wasn’t how she wanted it. Yes, she wanted Jason. But this wasn’t Jason. This was the dark trauma that currently terrorized Jason. She didn't want their first time together to be like this.
Kat pushed against Jason’s chest again and this time, he let her go. Actually, he almost threw her away from him as if forcing himself to let go of his prey. He seemed so at war with himself.
They stood, paces from each other, both trying to regain their breath and their senses. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Jason said suddenly. He straightened up and headed towards the front door. “Don’t stay here, Kat. Don’t trust me right now.”
The muscles of his broad shoulders were taut and tense. Seeing Al fighting his demons had clearly raised a few of his own in Jason. Kat didn’t want to press him tonight. Her lips still tingled from his bruising kiss. No, she didn’t want to press him tonight.
She headed towards the front door, carefully stepping out.
Kat turned around. She wanted to help him fight whatever darkness lay waiting for him. But she didn’t know how.
“Good night,” she said, meaning it literally. Please, have a good and restful night. No nightmares. No fighting.
“Good night,” Jason said quickly before closing the door and letting the darkness swallow him.
Chapter Sixteen
“I thought the backsplash was something Jason was going to do,” Malcolm said hesitantly as he watched Dave mixing the grout.
Dave gave another good swirl through the heavy gray stuff. “Oh this is easy stuff to do,” he said, keeping a focused eye on the grout. “No need to bother the big man with it.” He looked up and gave Malcolm a solemn but warm look. Kat had noticed most of the men had a difficult time smiling. But they were never short on ways to express their own unique brand of warmth. “I think we can handle it ourselves.”
Malcolm’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink at being found so capable by Dave.
But Kat could see his eyes flitting every few minutes through the order window at the front door of the diner. She knew Malcolm had wanted to do the project with Jason.
But Jason hadn’t come in today. He hadn’t come in yesterday either.
She remembered his darkened, almost empty eyes as long ago memories began to wash over him. She should’ve stayed! She should’ve distracted him. Helped him. Fought with him.
But she had been caught completely off guard, never having witnessed trauma survivors in the flesh.
Was he okay?
Was Al okay?
Kat quickly made a fresh pot of coffee as her thoughts persistently drew her to Jason. She could tell he was clearly still struggling to put the pieces of himself back together after his military career.
Her hand paused over the pot. Was this why he had stopped communicating with her? She could tell from that night after the bar fight that he was used to fighting his demons alone. He had almost pushed her out the front door as if he didn’t want to expose her to the darkness he felt within.
But how much harder is it to fight such terrible trauma by yourself?
Janelle slapped an order through the window, snapping Kat out of her reverie. She looked up and saw the spritely young woman smiling back at her.
“It’s exciting to see the diner kind of busy again, isn’t it?” she said, her eyes sparkling.
Kat turned around and saw the half full diner. It was true. The place hadn’t had this many customers in a while. It almost seemed a shame to have to shut the diner down for a few days soon to finish the rest of the interior renovations. But regardless, it was all starting to look very promising.
The businesses around town seemed revitalized after their makeover. The Carolina Society had featured the town on their website and newsletter and Peytonville had been getting several curious tourists visiting. It was all the place needed—just a few curious eyes to see just how great the place really was.
Kat had been taking initiative as well. She had started a small online marketing campaign. She posted pictures of her baked goods and the coziness of Doughy Pop’s. She was already getting positive responses with some small food blogs picking up her photos.
She knew Doughy Pop’s was the secret ingredient to success for Peytonville. Food was the best way to attract people. And once they were here, they could see the charm and beauty of this small but character laden town.
Kat had been working hard to come up with unique and delicious treats to entice people. She’d also been reworking some menu items to spruce up the diner and to give it a fresh breath of air. The menu should be homey and familiar but still with a dash of excitement.
Kat lifted the coffee pot back to its hot plate when she stumbled over her own feet, nearly dropping the glass pot.
“Whoa, whoa!” Janelle cried out, helping Kat back up and taking the pot away from her, clearing not trusting her boss’s coordination. “Are you okay?”
Kat gave her a head good shake before nodding. “Of course,” she said, smiling back at Janelle. “I think I dozed off there for a second.” She gave a small laugh at the joke but Janelle looked at her, searchingly.
“Kat, have you been getting any sleep?” she asked. “You got dark circles like a raccoon.”
Well, that was blunt.
Kat shrugged and said, “Well, it’s been pretty busy here with all the construction and menu tinkering.” And the nights she slept restlessly worrying about Jason.
Janelle tilted her head to one side.
“You still need to rest,” she said gently.
Kat smiled at the sweet girl, squeezing her arm affectionately. “You’re right. Tonight I’m going to get my butt into bed early and get me a full ten hours.”
Janelle stared at her boss before bursting into laughter. “Lie to humor me but don’t make it so outrageous,” she said. “I’ll be happy if you just got six. Thrilled, really.”
Kat grinned and gave her employee a salute.
With how busy the place was with customers and Brothers Construction crew, the day passed by pretty quickly. Before she knew it, she was the only one left in the diner.
She had sent Malcolm on home so he could get a lift from Janelle.
With half the lights off and the place empty, Kat felt a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in a long while. It had been a chaotic few weeks and she languished in the quiet.
She would’ve loved to have poured herself a hot cup of coffee and sat in one of the booths for an hour or so but she had things to bake. She had had the clever idea of sending some baked goods to local North Carolina foodie magazine writers to see if she could drum up some goodwill and perhaps even some press.
Janelle had a keen eye. Kat did need rest. She was tired.
She had been working nonstop since Uncle Do had died. Any free moment she had was spent driving back and forth to the hospital for Dillon. And now, she felt every spare pocket of her time filled up with thoughts of Jason. She felt completely tired and spent.
Taking out her baking ingredients, Kat tried to calm her mind. Baking was usually quite meditative for her. She wanted a clear and steady head as she started a new batch
of dough.
But with the remodeling that had been going on in their kitchen, nothing was where it was supposed to be. She spent ten minutes looking for her measuring cups. Another five looking for her specialty flours.
She needed an extra mixing bowl but couldn’t find any. “Now where would I be if I was a bowl….” she wondered aloud as she looked about the kitchen. Finally she spotted it up on the higher corner of an old shelf that would soon be taken down and replaced with a steel one.
Using an empty crate as a stepladder, she reached up towards the bowl. She was just a few inches shy. Even stretching her body as high as she could, her fingers could only barely brush the bowl.
Kat looked around to see if there was another crate she could add to her makeshift ladder but could find none.
She was so close. She could the bowl. She just needed to grab the rim. Stepping back up on the crate, she reached out and then jumped for the bowl, feeling the cool metal brush against her hand.
But just as her fingers closed in on the rim of the bowl, the old shelf cracked and bent, throwing Kat off balance as she tripped and fell. She heard a dull ringing as her head hit something hard and a blackness fell over her.
Chapter Seventeen
“This is stupid,” Kat grumbled as she sat on the couch, tucked in ridiculously tight with an old afghan.
“No, you know what’s really stupid?” Malcolm said, eyeing his sister sharply as he buttered some toast for breakfast. “Jumping up and down on an old crate while pulling at a half broken shelf in the middle of an empty diner. That’s stupid. That’s the definition of stupid.”
“I wasn’t jumping up and down. I jumped up. I fell down,” she argued, trying to free her arms from under the heavy blanket. How had Malcolm exactly tucked her in this tight? She sighed as she finally managed to wriggle an arm free. She gingerly touched the large bump at her temple. Under the blanket, she wriggled her right foot gently, feeling small twinges of pain. Even tightly bandaged, she could feel the dull throbbing ache from the twisted ankle.
“Oh well, pardon me for trying to give you more credit there,” Malcolm said sarcastically. “You just crossed from stupid to idiotic. Why would you even jump on a crate?”
“I told you! I needed an extra bowl for the muffin mix and I—”
Malcolm cut her off by shoving the plate of toast her way. “I’m sure you’re the first woman in history to sprain an ankle trying to make muffins. What are you going to do next? Have a seizure making a scone?”
Kat looked at the toast, confused. “Wait, aren’t you going to eat your breakfast?”
Malcolm gave her a look. “I work in a diner. I doubt I’ll be short on food. The toast’s for you so you don’t get up and do something even more idiotic while I’m at the diner.”
Malcolm threw on a jacket and grabbed his keys. “Stay on that couch, sis!” he called out before leaving for work.
Kat felt ridiculous but tears stung her eyes at the sweet gesture of her little brother. Out of love rather than hunger, she took a bite of the well buttered toast.
It was lucky, really. Kat had fallen and bumped her head on a turned over mixing bucket but had come to relatively quickly. She had phoned her brother who had immediately given her a haranguing that rivaled any middle aged mother’s.
After picking her up and taking her over to see the town’s doctor, she was diagnosed with a swollen forehead, but no concussion, and a twisted ankle. She was quickly bandaged up and sent home with a bottle of pain medication.
Kat sighed, leaning her head against the couch. It was a very stupid accident. She definitely should’ve known better but she hadn’t really been thinking with a clear head. Too many thoughts had occupied her mind.
And with the small bump in business the diner was getting, this was not a good time for them to be shorthanded. She needed to be at the diner. But feeling the painful twinges radiating from her ankle, she knew there was no chance of that happening any time soon.
Kat looked around. Malcolm had put a stack of old books and magazines near the couch for her. He clearly expected her to stay on the couch all day. She wondered if he had taken into consideration at all about nature’s calls. Then Kat jerked upright, looking down to make sure there wasn’t a bucket or anything for that exact reason. She wouldn’t put it pass Malcolm.
But luckily no bucket.
So grabbing an old magazine, she flipped through till her eyelids drooped and she fell into a light doze.
She had no idea how long she had been dozing when three loud knocks interrupted her sleep.
Knock knock knock!
Kat jerked up, still sleepy and confused.
Knock knock knock!
The front door. Kat tried to wriggle free from the afghan. She had no crutches since she had promised the good doctor she’d stay off her feet till she got better.
Using tables and chairs as makeshift crutches, Kat winced as she made her slow way to the door. Opening the door, she caught Jason, hand raised, poised for another series of knocks.
He looked a little out of breath as if he had run over here. He had some lines of exhaustion around his eyes but otherwise looked much better than that night she had left him with Al.
In fact, seeing him again after a few days absence, she realized just how good he looked.
Jason seemed to be doing his own inventory of her.
He gently turned her head so he could get a better look at the swelling bruise around her temple.
He looked down at her feet where her injured foot was almost covered by her pajamas pants.
“I heard it was the right one,” he said.
Kat pushed her twisted ankle back behind her good foot. “I’m fine. I just—”
Jason stepped in and lifted her up into his arms with an easy strength that almost made her dizzy. He carried her as easily as he’d carry a sack of flour. Without any hesitation, he carried her back into the living room.
“You just thought you’d make a batch of cookies before concussing yourself,” he said. Although he gently laid her on the couch, Kat could feel the restraint in his arms that told her how much he would’ve enjoyed just dropping her to teach her a lesson.
“It was muffins, not cookies,” she corrected.
Jason gave her a mock look of offense. “Oh how could make such a dumb mistake,” he said, staring at her pointedly, clearing referring her dumb mistake of reaching for a bowl in a hazardous area.
“And I’m not concussed!” she continued, choosing to ignore his look.
Jason sighed as he sat down next to her, pulling her feet into his lap. Kat was surprised by this sudden intimate gesture.
“What are you going to do next? Have a stroke making brownies?” he said.
“Have you been talking with Malcolm?” she grumbled.
Jason carefully massaged her injured ankle, probing around the foot to detect any swelling. Kat tensed as his fingers probed. It didn’t hurt but she could feel more acutely just the damage she had done to herself.
“As a matter of fact, I have been,” Jason replied. “I was at the diner, thinking you’d be there. But your brother told me about his crazy sister who wanted to bake in the middle of the night in a half finished kitchen.”
Kat sighed, rolling her eyes. “There’s a bit of a momentum Doughy Pop’s is riding right now. I wanted to capitalize on that. I was going to bake some muffins for—”
“Who cares if Doughy Pop’s succeeds if it means you having a broken back and a knocked up head?” Jason said, quietly chastising as he began gently massaging her calf. Kat couldn’t help but sigh a little. She had unconsciously been tensing her entire leg for fear of jostling her injured ankle. She hadn’t realized how tight her muscles were until Jason’s touch.
“I’m not made of glass, you know. You don’t need to treat me so preciously,” she said, her eyes closed and her head leaning back against the couch. She moaned a little, enjoying the relaxing massage.
Jason’s hand paused. “But you
are precious,” he said quietly. Kat opened her eyes and stared at him. “And I wish you’d treat yourself more preciously. Stop throwing yourself so completely into every problem.”
“I don’t throw—” she began but Jason cut her off.
“How about coming into a dangerous dive bar like Reggie’s alone? Or wanting to walk down a road on your own after your car breaks down? Or baking in the middle of the night for the sake of your restaurant?” Jason raised a brow, daring Kat to argue against him.
“You’re tougher than glass. That’s for damn sure,” he said, his lips twitching. He then wrapped a hand around her foot. His large hand nearly swallowed her entire foot in its warmth. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not precious.” He met her eyes with a steady honest gaze. “That doesn’t mean you’re not worth protecting.”