“You have my permission to do whatever. I can see that letting go of grudges does not run in your blood.”
“No, it doesn’t, although . . .” Kelsey sighed. “It gets exhausting. But I can’t see moving on working here. Porters and Lipins will never forgive each other for the past hundred years of shit.”
“Who said anything about forgiveness? I haven’t forgiven my father. Forgiveness needs to be earned, and although I’ll keep giving him chances to do that, he has to want to take them. Until then, I just chose to stop wasting mental energy on someone who wasn’t worth it. I don’t want his actions to define my life.”
“Like the feud defines ours?”
“Does it?” Ian asked.
Kelsey bent down and took the oversized stick away from Puck. “The feud has consumed my entire life. And for most of it, I’ve been like this silly dog here, trying to carry around a stick that’s slowing me down, because it’s a stick and I’m a dog, so I must have the stick.” She tossed the offending tree branch several feet into the woods, and the dogs watched it go with longing. “Will you be okay if . . .” She gestured to the leashes.
Ian wasn’t entirely sure, but he nodded anyway. He’d been with Juliet plenty of times when she was off-leash, and the huskies seemed entirely unconcerned with him. “Yeah.”
Kelsey paused a second, as though assessing whether she trusted his answer, then she let the dogs off their leashes so they could run after their prize. “With the feud, some of the time, I didn’t have any choice but to go chasing sticks. Now, when I do have a choice, I’m trying not to chase the damn things, but it’s hard.”
“I imagine it would be when it’s consumed the whole town.”
The three huskies returned to Kelsey, dragging a newer, even bigger stick with them, and she turned to Ian with a see-what-I-mean gesture. “Did it help to leave Florida? With your father, I mean? Is that why you’re really here?”
“I moved on years ago, but I can’t deny that putting some distance between myself and him factored into the decision.”
Kelsey shot him a knowing smile. “Aha. I knew you couldn’t actually have been attracted to our climate.”
“There’s a lot I’m attracted to in this state.” Ian picked up a fresh stick and tossed it for the dogs so he wouldn’t be tempted to watch Kelsey’s reaction to that.
* * *
* * *
AS USUAL, IAN had given her a lot to think about. The idea that she could just say screw it to the feud shouldn’t have been radical, and yet it was. Kelsey hadn’t been taught to let go. She hadn’t even been taught to forgive, and she wasn’t sure she had it in her to do that. Hell, she’d been taught to be suspicious of people’s apologies, but also that she had no choice but to accept them. Or pretend to, to be accurate. So to do none of the above, to simply shrug off the past and boldly declare she was done caring, was an intriguing proposition.
It wouldn’t work for the feud, not unless lots of other people decided to do the same, but the feud wasn’t the only baggage she carried around. There was the anger she nurtured about what Anthony had done. Writing books had rebuilt her self-esteem, and sleeping with Ian had rebuilt her self-confidence. But rage remained. Could she one day decide she no longer cared?
After another ten minutes or so of walking, Kelsey and Ian turned around and headed back to their cars. Luckily, the dogs were exceedingly happy to be out walking among so many distracting sights and smells, so she couldn’t focus solely on the man next to her. She and Ian talked about lighter topics—TV shows, food, and whether skiing or sledding was more fun—and Ian kept making occasional flirty comments that she kept pretending to not hear.
It was early afternoon when they reached the trailhead. After the dogs were fed some treats and tied to a tree so they couldn’t run far, Ian shared the sandwiches he’d brought, and she poured them both coffee from her thermos. Ian had spread out a blanket in his truck bed, and they sat on that to eat.
Kelsey had no idea how disheveled she looked, but Ian’s cheeks were lightly pink and his hair blowsy from the wind, much like it looked after she’d run her fingers through it during sex. Kelsey tried to not to make that comparison, but it was impossible. She’d wanted to kiss him a hundred different times on the walk, and it was only because she’d had to keep control of all three dogs that she hadn’t.
“I maintain that it’s chilly for a picnic,” Ian said. He’d been skeptical of the idea when she’d suggested it, and Kelsey had teased him about his Florida attitude until he’d relented.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” They were sitting on opposites sides of the bed, and Kelsey stretched out her legs so that one was now touching one of his. “Body heat. Does that help?”
“You have to ask?”
No, she didn’t. It was enough to assume Ian’s blood heated as much as her own did from the contact. And now she was the one flirting.
Bad. Kelsey scolded herself like she was one of her dogs.
“You seem to have adjusted to being around dogs,” she said, trying to think of things other than Ian’s long leg rubbing against hers. “You barely flinched when Puck licked you a moment ago.”
“I have.” He sounded surprised, but pleased. “It’s weird, to be honest. I expected it to take a lot longer and be a lot more painful.”
So had Kelsey, and considering what Ian’s father had put him through, she was surprised he’d agreed to try it at all.
The thought of poor younger Ian being neglected by his only remaining parent and tortured by dogs—even if it wasn’t on purpose—made Kelsey want to punch his father all over again. She took a deep breath and sipped her coffee.
“I think it was you,” Ian said after a moment.
“Me?”
“I trust you. That made it easier.”
“Oh.” Her mouth went dry, and Kelsey forced herself to swallow.
Ian trusted her—why? She hadn’t done anything to earn that trust. Or was it less about earning it and more because he had leverage over her?
That didn’t seem right though; it wasn’t Ian’s way. He was many things: distracting, insufferable. And in the past couple of weeks she’d add: smart, funny, caring. But he wasn’t cruel. He would never lord her secret over her, that much Kelsey had grown to be sure of. Whatever else he was, he was a good person.
What must that be like? To be able to just trust someone, especially someone you hadn’t known for years? Who you hadn’t run a hundred tiny tests on to see if they’d have your back? And if Ian trusted her, did that mean it was safe to trust him?
Kelsey wanted to, but it was hard to shake the fear. Trust made you vulnerable, and vulnerabilities could be exploited. It had taken her years to patch herself back together after the last person had betrayed her trust. She wasn’t sure she could put herself through that again, and yet something inside her ached with the knowledge that Ian had put his faith in her. He’d told her something that made him vulnerable just to make her feel better, then he’d let her help him work through his fear. Although she’d previously dismissed his actions as not being on the same level as the discovery of her secret profession, she was realizing that what he’d done was just as traumatic for him. Especially now that she knew what he’d gone through with his father.
She should say something other than Oh, but Kelsey didn’t know what, so she did the only thing that felt right. She pushed aside her food, crawled across the truck bed, and kissed Ian.
Warm hands cupped her cheeks as Ian pulled her closer. Kelsey shifted, settling on top of his lap and wrapping her arms around him. The sourdough bread, pickles, and coffee they’d been feasting on should have been alarming, but mostly she tasted him, and Ian’s mouth always tasted like perfection. Comfortable yet arousing. Demanding yet yielding. She didn’t know how he knew exactly how to kiss her or where to touch her, but she wanted to consume him. She didn’t eve
n care that they were in public.
Ian groaned, and he lowered one hand to her thigh. That was all it took for heat to pool between her legs. Kelsey reached down through the slim space between their bodies and cupped the erection straining through his jeans.
“Kelsey?” Ian sounded incredulous as she tugged on his zipper.
“I need you.” She couldn’t bring herself to say I trust you, or I like you, or I care about you, although she was terrified that all three were true. So need was close enough. Her body was aching for him to fill it, and she might combust if he didn’t.
Ian closed his eyes and swore, and his fingers pressed against her lips. “It’s not that I haven’t been thinking about this our entire walk, but anyone could pull into this lot.”
“They won’t. It’s Friday, not the weekend. And it’s getting late.” She was completely making stuff up, but her confidence in these facts was high enough that she was willing to risk it.
The one other vehicle that had been here earlier was gone. No one else would arrive. She willed it to be so.
She was also counting on Ian to talk sense into her, something she hadn’t realized until he decided not to and unbuttoned her jeans. Shit. Ian’s fingers rubbed her through the fabric of her underwear, and Kelsey squirmed.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Ian said, but he rummaged through his wallet and produced a condom.
Kelsey couldn’t believe it either. She’d hoped that by sticking to the outdoors today, they’d avoid this. All she’d needed was one meeting with Ian that didn’t result in sex for her to believe that maybe, just maybe, they’d get the whatever-it-was between them under control. Instead, they were doing the opposite.
Clearly it didn’t matter what obstacles she put between them. She was going to jump his bones regardless.
Ian shoved her jeans down low enough so she could position herself above him, and holy shit. The truck was hard and cold against her knees, even with the blanket. But Ian was hot and hard in the best ways, and Kelsey’s awareness of everything that wasn’t him faded away. The length of him inside her. His hands on her hips, guiding her. His mouth crashing into hers, his tongue seeking her out, and his warm breath on her face.
She came fast, clutching Ian’s body like a shield against the cool air, and he followed seconds later while she buried her face against the crook of his neck. Her other senses returned slowly. Nearby, she could hear the dogs running around and the leaves rustling in the trees. Her skin cooled, and her knees ached. But she didn’t want to let go. She wanted a second more, a minute longer, to hold Ian and feel his arms wrapped around her and inhale the wonderful scent of his skin. He felt so good.
When the first raindrop landed on her forehead, forcing them to hurry and clean up, Kelsey realized it was way too late to believe she could turn back the clock on whatever they’d started. The word trust might shrivel on her tongue, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel it. Or that she hadn’t already screwed up and started to care more about Ian than was good for her.
20
THE DAY AFTER the walk with Kelsey, Ian found himself awake early. He was settled at the dining room table, his coffee growing cold, when Micah stumbled into the kitchen.
“Why are you up? Are you working again? That looks like a list.” His friend pulled his hair back into a ponytail.
“Yes, I’m working,” Ian said, aware of how defensive he sounded. “I had an idea for a new beer.”
That was what had awakened him—an intense need to create. But it wasn’t just any new beer. He had a particular person in mind for this one.
He and Kelsey had parted after the walk, but Ian’s brain lingered at the trailhead, still trying to understand what had gotten into him. Kelsey had this power to make him do things he’d never otherwise consider, like pet dogs or have sex in his truck in a public lot. He was acting like a different person as a result of her influence, but he was enjoying it.
So the question that had woken him up was, could he have the same effect on Kelsey? She claimed to hate beer. Could he change that the way she’d changed his opinion on dogs?
Already he had ideas. Ian had observed enough of Kelsey’s eating and drinking habits over the past couple of weeks to figure out that her favorite food group was sugar. She puts lots of it in her coffee, only drank alcohol if it was sweet, and never turned down dessert, especially if it involved chocolate. From a brewing perspective, those were all things he could work with.
“Wait, does that say—?” Too late, Ian realized Micah was reading his screen over his shoulder. He minimized the file, but Micah had seen enough. “You’re making a beer for Kelsey?” his friend asked. “I thought she didn’t like beer.”
“She doesn’t. Yet.”
Micah laughed obnoxiously as he sliced off a piece of the leftover challah. “But you like Kelsey.”
Ian stuck his cold coffee in the microwave, debating his response. “She’s been helping me learn to like dogs, so I thought I’d help her learn to like beer.”
“So she asked for this help?”
“No, but it seemed fair. Anyway, it’s my job to create new offerings.” That was how he was rationalizing his decision. Creating new recipes, as well as re-creating successful ones from his aunt and uncle’s brewery, was what he got paid for. Brewing a beer that Kelsey might like, therefore, wasn’t a distraction from work. It was work. If Ian could win over Kelsey, he could win over new customers.
Micah’s face turned serious. “You could just admit that you like her.”
“It has nothing to do with liking her,” Ian lied, both to himself and to Micah. “It’s a challenge. If I can create something even Kelsey likes, that’s a victory.”
“Undoubtedly.” Micah poured himself some coffee. “You know what else would be a victory? You admitting that you like Kelsey, that your therapy sessions are dates, and that the world won’t end and Northern Charm Brewing won’t fail just because you have a relationship with her.”
“It’s not like that.” Ian retrieved his coffee from the microwave and sat back in front of his computer. Even to his ears, the words didn’t ring true. But as long as he didn’t declare his thing with Kelsey to be a relationship, none of those expectations would come along with it. Or so he hoped.
Micah might be correct that the world wouldn’t end if he dated Kelsey, but Ian wasn’t so certain about the brewery, and he couldn’t risk it. Dating and relationships took time and energy, and he wouldn’t split his between work and Kelsey.
The toaster popped up Micah’s bread, and his friend turned his back on him. “If you say so. Personally, I like these Helen women. Did I tell you Maggie from the hardware store asked if I wanted to get coffee yesterday?”
“No. Good for you.” Maggie seemed like a nice person, and it wasn’t like Micah had more of a social life than Ian did since moving here. If it weren’t for Kelsey taking over his brain, Ian might have been jealous.
“Well, she did,” Micah said, “and I said yes because she’s cute, and I’m not obsessed with my job to the point of refusing to have a life.”
Ian narrowed his eyes. “I’m not obsessed, but there’s a lot hanging on our ability to be successful here. My aunt and uncle are partially on the hook for the loans we took out.”
“They are, but we both know they aren’t what’s driving you, right?” Micah grabbed his toast and coffee and hightailed it out of the kitchen before Ian could argue with him.
* * *
* * *
“THIS SUCKS.” ON the couch, Romeo whined at Kelsey in sympathy as she checked her temperature. Unsurprisingly, it hadn’t changed in the last five minutes. That should be good, considering it wasn’t elevated before, but it meant the dogs were the only ones who cared about her distress.
A new text from Josh arrived, and Kelsey glared at it. No fever so it’s probably just a cold. Drink lots of fluids, get some r
est, and Taylor or I can come by to walk your dogs tomorrow if you don’t feel up to it.
Do people actually pay you for that advice? she typed back.
Not the dog part, but the rest, yes. Now go drink some tea, and I hope you feel better soon.
Kelsey tossed the phone on the living room table. “What good is being related to a doctor if the best he can do for me is offer to walk my dogs?”
Romeo’s ears perked up, and Puck and Juliet both turned her way. Not only had she made the mistake of saying the W word aloud, she’d suggested caring for her babies wasn’t important. Well, the dogs probably hadn’t made the second association, but Kelsey felt guilty about it anyway.
“No offense intended. I just feel like crap,” she told them.
After having gone to bed with a mildly irritated throat last night, Kelsey had woken up feeling like someone had punched her in the head. The slightly expired decongestants she’d dug out of her medicine cabinet were helping, but going up and down the stairs remained onerous. She was half considering going back to bed already even though it was only five o’clock, but the dogs would need to be let out soon, and she wasn’t making that climb to her bed more than she had to. Possibly she should also eat something while she waited—Josh had told her that too—but she wasn’t especially hungry.
Another movie, then. Sitting in front of the TV was all she’d been capable of. Reading required too much concentration, but movies were mindless, particularly ones she’d watched a hundred times before.
Kelsey scrolled through her offerings, her thumb hesitating for a moment on Terminator. She’d had to postpone Ian’s dog therapy for the day because of this stupid cold, and she couldn’t decide whether to be thankful for it. Logic said it was smart to stay away, but in her current mood, she really wished to see him. It was unfortunate, but he had a way about him that made her happy.
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