by Hart, Taylor
It hit him that it’d been roughly three years since he’d said grace. Three years since he’d been married and three years since he’d bowed his head. But, as the saying goes, ‘it’s like riding a bike.’ The words tumbled off of his lips with the rapidity of his eleven year old self that had been hungry and wanting to take a bite of the homemade pancakes.
She sat and motioned to the papers on the table. “I see Katie gave you a list?”
Roman nodded and shoved in a bite of pancake. The taste of sugar-filled maple syrup and fluffiness melted in his mouth. “Hmm.”
His phone buzzed in his pant pocket, and he reached for it, momentarily forgetting Katie’s list. It was his agent, asking when he was coming back. He put his phone back and worried about the meeting with the owners. But he had three days. Surely the storm would clear by then. Resigned to the fact that he’d be stuck here for a while, he nodded to Mrs. K, thinking that there were worse places to be stuck. He remembered how the team had gotten stuck in Minnesota the last time they had played there. Granted, they had been in a nice hotel. They’d ordered up plate after plate of food, but the food hadn’t been this good.
Mrs. K grinned. “Pancakes are my specialty.”
“They’re delicious.” He grinned back and took another bite.
When Katie came in, he was looking over the list and eating his breakfast.
She ignored him and made coffee. “Hey, Mrs. K, how are you today?”
“Doing good, Katie girl, doing good.” She pulled her into a half hug. “How’s your guy?”
It served as a stark reminder to Roman that she was married. Trying to sneak a good look at her, without being obvious, he glanced up from his list. Her red hair lay in soft curls down to the middle of her back. She wore a puffy, black coat, but began to unzip it. As she finally turned to face him, she caught him looking.
For whatever reason, the fact she’d caught him glancing at her made him nervous. He reached for his coffee and ended up knocking it over, spilling it across the supply list. “Crap.” He tried to stand too fast and knocked his thighs hard against the table, making the table jerk and the fresh syrup topple over, too.
“My heavens!” Mrs. K reached for a kitchen towel.
In a flash, Katie picked up the syrup, preventing more oozing from mixing with the coffee. She tugged the list away, and a line of coffee dripped from the table to the counter sink. “Think you can get out of the chores if you ruin the list?”
“Chores?” The way he said it made him sound like a teenager after his mother had demanded he mow the lawn. He didn’t know why he reacted this way to this woman. He cleared his throat and used his hand to slick the coffee and syrup onto his plate. Then he used his napkin to mop up the remaining mess. “I mean, I thought that list was for supplies.” He maneuvered over to the sink.
Katie waved the list over the sink. The look on her face told him that she found him amusing. “I figured you’d want to help get things done today.”
He caught a glint of her ring. On her left hand. Definitely married.
“I mean,” she hesitated, looking out the window, “there’s nowhere to go. Even the ski resorts need to get ahold of their avalanche control precautions.” She paused, licking her lips. “Are you here to ski?”
He knew that she wasn’t licking her lips for any other reason than because they were probably chapped, but instantly he noticed how close they stood together. The dishes dropped into the sink. The cup he’d used for coffee broke. He jerked back.
“Land sakes!” Mrs. K exclaimed, bustling in between them and reaching in for the broken pieces. She scowled at him. “Katie, get this boy out of my kitchen, now!”
Hating himself at this moment, it wasn’t like him at all to be a complete klutz, Roman got out of Mrs. K’s way.
Katie covered her face and let out a small laugh. She motioned to the door. “I’d say you better get your boots and come with me!”
“Where can we go with all this snow?” At this point he wasn’t sure he wanted to go anywhere with this woman. She made him slightly nervous. It had been a long time since Roman had been so on edge.
Shaking her head, Katie lifted an eyebrow. “What? Are you afraid of little old me?”
The way she said it was slightly seductive. At least, he took it as seductive, and he wasn’t one to back away from a challenge. He backed out of the living room, remembering that any kind of gear was stored in the large front closet by the front door. “Getting boots.”
After the door creaked open, he found an assortment of things and pulled out what looked like serious mountaineering boots. Most likely they had belonged to his uncle. He found a Carhartt coat and a Dallas Destroyers beanie cap on a hook. Emotion tugged at him as he pulled on a matching pair of gloves. He’d given these to his uncle the first year he’d signed with the team.
Trudging through the kitchen, he didn’t say a word as he went for the door. He could see Katie already sitting on a snowmobile, a trailer attached to the back.
“Best behavior, young man.”
Roman grinned at Mrs. K, who was washing dishes. “Ah, thank you for breakfast.”
She winked at him. “Have fun.”
When Roman got down the steps to Katie, she tossed her head back and grinned. “Get on the back, Quarterback.”
For a second, he paused. “You knew?” The night before he was sure anyone who treated him so rudely must not know exactly who he was.
A pink pom pom beanie was on her head, complete with knitted strings that were braided down the sides over her ears. The side of her lip tugged up. “You think your uncle let anyone in this town NOT know about the great Roman Young?”
Tentatively, he got on behind her, totally bewildered and confused by the fact that—since she knew who he was—she was still treating him this way. He lightly put his hands on her hips. She had a tiny waste and he wondered, if he tightened his hold, if he could touch his fingers together.
She laughed and jolted as she took off.
He held on tighter.
She laughed again. “Sheesh, for goodness sake you won’t break me, just put your arms around my waist.”
They flew across the powdered-driveway. “Man, there’s a lot of snow, this resembled a driveway last night.”
Katie scoffed. “Wolfe Creek got about seventeen inches just last night and you know it’s not supposed to let up for a while.”
He frowned, thinking of Mr. Burcher. “I heard.”
Leaning forward and hunching down, he was able to get a better hold. The smell of lemon assaulted him. He ducked behind her, wishing he’d worn sunglasses to block the spray of snow. He popped his head out and saw that they were on what appeared to be a main road, speeding toward a small cluster of stores that, despite the weather, had customers coming and going.
Other snowmobilers passed by. Katie waved at each of them, sometimes shouting hello. Roman was mystified that this town continued to operate as if the snow didn’t matter.
They pulled into Henry’s Hardware and parked next to, Roman counted, five other snowmobiles with attached trailers.
Katie cut the engine and waited for him to get off. Her eyes held a mischievous glint as she casually picked up a handful of snow and tossed it at him when she walked past. “Come on, Quarterback, haven’t you ever seen a winter storm before?”
Part of the snow fell lightly against his cheek, and he felt even more confused as he followed Katie into the hardware store. Was she flirting with him? He was used to the more direct approach—like scantily clad women draping themselves along his body and sticking like plastic wrap on a glass dish. He felt off kilter with Katie.
Katie pulled off her cap and nodded towards a cart. “Do you mind pushing it? We can get supplies,” she paused and pulled her phone out of a zipper pocket in the front of her own Carhartt jacket. “I figure we can finish getting carpet ripped out in the upstairs before I have to go pick up my son.”
The idea that she thought he was going to rip carp
et out was quickly overshadowed by the fact she’d mentioned a son. He blinked. She’s married. She’s married. He needed to quit thinking that she had some kind of attraction to him or something.
With that reminder, he grabbed a cart and jogged two steps to catch up to her.
She already had a box of nails and tossed them inside the cart. She scanned the shelves. “We also need to secure the stairs. I’m thinking we rip up the carpet and pound in the nails, see which ones are loose. Your uncle, God rest his soul, loved the place, but let’s face it—he left a heck of a lot of work to be done to get it up to par.” She glanced at him. “And getting it in shape before the spring crowd hits is going to be tough.”
It did occur to Roman that he should probably tell her that he was just here to sign paperwork and get the place sold, but, he reasoned, with the storm he wouldn’t be leaving for a day or two, and any improvements couldn’t hurt the sale. Not to mention that Katie looked so happy to be planning away. Maybe he would try to get it in the contract that she could stay the caretaker, or whatever she was.
“What?” She stopped moving and looked defensive.
Had he been staring? Clearing his throat, he turned to the paint. “Nothing. Nothing.” Suddenly, he noticed the Christmas music humming in the background. “What’s with the music?”
Instantly, she frowned and shook her finger at him. “You just keep quiet about the music.” There was a sudden edge to her tone. “Henry has enough problems to think about with Mrs. K’s health and everything else right now. The music is the least of his concerns,” she snapped.
That was not the reason he had expected. “What are you talking about—Mrs. K’s health?” The fact that he didn’t know who Henry was didn’t seem to matter at the moment. “The Mrs. K that fed me pancakes today?”
Her face softened. “Yes.” Moisture filled her eyes. Her green eyes shined even brighter. “Mrs. K has cancer.” She shook her head. “And she told me the other day that after seeing your uncle die, she just can’t believe that she can get a miracle.”
The center of his chest clutched with emotion. He thought of his uncle and for some insane reason he felt his own eyes get waterywhich took him aback. He turned away from her and swallowed. Not her, too.
He heard Katie let out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry. I guess … I guess this all rings close to home with your uncle and everything.” A hand touched his shoulder. “I didn’t tell you how sorry I am about Jim. He was a good man.”
Turning back around, his eyes locked with hers and he felt a shiver of warmth move through him. Here was something that the people in his life recently had lacked—sincerity. All he could do was nod again. Jim was probably the only person he did care about, at least at this point in his life, and he was gone. “Thank you, that means a lot.”
Pulling her hand back, she turned to the shelves. She took two cans of primer and plunked them into the cart, immediately reaching for two more cans of paint. “Grey is the big color right now.” She cleared her throat again and flashed him a tentative smile. “I was thinking that we could accent with red pillows and white trim. Maybe some rugs that thread some deep blue into it and have some decorative shabby chic lamps and chandeliers. I think it would add a modern feeling to the cabin.” She pulled the cart behind her, turning into a new aisle. She took some cabinet hardware off of the shelf. “The rustic cupboards in the kitchen can stay. I haven’t decided if we should paint them white. You know, to brighten up the kitchen. I watched a YouTube video on how to actually make them look kind of antiquey by using a permanent black marker to trace the lines.” She cocked her head to the side, studying an array of handles. She took a clump of them out and dropped them into the cart. “But, we will need to put hardware on either way, so let’s go ahead and get these.” She turned for confirmation. “Is that okay?”
All Roman knew at this moment was that he didn’t want to disappoint this woman that had touched his shoulder and shown a more kind-hearted response to his uncle’s death than anyone else in his life. Spending a couple of days rehabbing the cabin might not be a bad way to spend his time. Especially if he got to spend it with her. Annoyance washed over him. Married. He had to remember. She was married.
Her green eyes narrowed, making her look more like a ‘Kat’ than a ‘Katie.’ “What?”
“Nothing,” he spit out. “What?”
Putting a hand on her hip, she moved closer to him, searching his eyes. “What I’m really asking for is budget approval.”
His pulse raced, and he stepped back, trying to get as far as he could from the lemon fragrance that wafted off of her. “Sure. Absolutely. Whatever you want.”
Lifting her eyebrows, she grinned. “Really? Anything I want?”
It wasn’t just that his mind felt scrambled. Did the manager keep the heat up in here? He tugged off his coat. “Get all the supplies you need.” He folded his coat and put it in the front part of the cart.
The way she spun on her heel and flashed a wide smile told him he was going to vehemently regret giving her that kind of a license.
She rattled on about different people they saw in the store. There was Mrs. Harper, the old school teacher. When Katie introduced him as Jim’s nephew, Mrs. Harper hugged him and said how sorry she was. She proceeded to make a point of introducing her daughter who happened to be trapped in town for the weekend and suggested he might take her out. The idea that Mrs. Harper would blatantly throw her quiet daughter at him was just a bit much. Her daughter wasn’t bad looking, but she seemed painfully shy in his presence so her mother’s suggestion was just weird. But he’d definitely had weirder encounters with mothers wanting him to date their daughters, so he just nodded politely.
At this, Katie had promptly covered her face and pushed the cart away from them, leaving him to make excuses and describe the projects that they were knee deep in. Of course he left out the fact that he’d only really committed to doing them this morning. He walked away from the whole thing and endured more laughter and soft punches to the shoulder from Katie.
“Big quarterback’s in town, ladies. It’s The Bachelor comes to Wolfe Creek. Who will get a rose?”
Not really amused, he pretended to play along anyway. “Right, maybe instead of handing out roses, we’ll give power tools to the girls that know how to overhaul the most projects around the inn.”
She snapped her fingers with delight. “Exactly, and you could strut around with a tool belt on and show them how to do stuff.”
He snickered. “Problem is I don’t know how to do much stuff.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s okay, QB. Throwing a ball is all you need to know how to do, right?”
Although it shouldn’t really be an insult, it kind of did sound like an insult. “What does that mean?”
She kept strolling down the aisles, adding things to the cart. “Nothing.” She focused on a drill. “I need a drill. Are you okay with buying this?”
The drill was not on his radar. “Yeah, whatever. What did you mean quarterbacks only have to throw a ball?”
She forced him to a stop by cutting him off as she moved to the other side of the aisle and added something else to the cart. She was frowning when she replied, “You sound offended.”
“I’m not.” It came out a little too quickly.
She studied him for a second then turned their cart to the check out lane. “Chill out, QB, lots of women want a man that can throw a ball.” She lifted an eyebrow. “And I admit, you do that well.”
Once again, the compliment sounded like an insult. “I do lots of other things well.” He threw out at her.
She began unloading all the things in the check out lane. “I didn’t say you don’t.”
Memories of his mother teaching him things flashed into his mind. “I can cook.”
The side of her lip tugged up. “I’m happy for you.” She pushed the cart through and nodded to the cashier.
Angrily, without knowing why he should feel angry, he tugged his card out o
f his wallet and didn’t even look at the total, his eyes riveted on her. “Have you ever watched spring training or a football documentary on all the things we have to do to maintain ourselves?”
He signed a slip, and she was already taking some of the bungee cords out of the cart along with a tarp, moving them out into the snow.
He zipped up and trudged faster, trying to keep up with her. She smashed her pom pom hat on her head and went to the task of organizing everything on the trailer of the snow mobile. For a few seconds he wondered if she’d heard his question. “Do you know what football players go through?”
She got everything situated and gave him half of the tarp, ignoring the angst in his voice. “Actually, I’ve been too busy the last couple years to honestly care.” She finished fastening the last strap and then held his gaze.
Roman stared back at her. For some reason, he kind of liked the way Katie treated him. Normal. She was mean to him, but he could tell this was her being normal. It probably just felt like she was being mean because most people fell all over themselves around him, he reasoned. But, he didn’t think she respected him and that wasn’t okay with him. Roman swiftly took the snow mobile keys out of Katie’s hand. He got on first.
“Hey!” she protested, trying to reach across him and swipe the keys out of his hand.
He laughed, liking the feeling of keeping something away from her. “Oh, no!” A thought occurred to him. “Whose snow mobile is this anyway?”
A sheepish grin peeked across her face. She pointed at him. “Your uncle’s.”
Slipping the key into the starter, he grinned. “Exactly.”
After hesitating and then crossing her arms, she lifted her brows. “Well, Quarterback, you don’t always get your way.” She shook her head back and forth and stomped away from him, heading toward the Lunch Lizard Diner. “I’m hungry.”