Sit, Stay, Love

by Debbie Burns

  Kelsey couldn’t remember what her great-grandmother had been canning at the time. From what her father had told her, she’d canned a bit of everything. Perhaps because her great-grandparents’ quiet farmhouse life had been so different from her jam-packed suburban one, Kelsey had wanted to try canning ever since she could remember.

  Now that she was knee-deep in a rescue op gone viral, Kelsey wasn’t sure today had been the best time to experiment. But the refrigerator full of pears from Sabrina Raven’s private orchard had been tempting her for the last week, and Ida’s dinner invitation was the call to action she needed.

  After finishing a few essential chores by late morning, she’d headed to the store for the supplies and returned with the hope of having the beautiful, fair-trade African basket she’d purchased filled with freshly canned jars of pears for Ida tonight.

  After peeling four dozen pears and discarding seven or eight of them because they’d begun to rot on the inside, Kelsey had the rest sliced and simmering in the spiced sugar water.

  She was scooping the discarded peelings from the sink into a paper shopping bag when Kurt came into the kitchen. He and his grandfather and Jim, the shelter’s volunteer electrician, had spent the last few hours working on the roof of the carriage house, patching a large hole and strengthening a few support beams.

  His grandfather had been a frequent presence in the house the last week, and the old mansion was getting a face-lift as a result. Kurt’s grandfather and mother had rented a small, furnished apartment near Siteman Cancer Center for the course of her treatment. It was twenty minutes away, and when his grandfather wasn’t with her, he was here, working on the house. While Kelsey couldn’t exactly say she’d gotten to know him—he didn’t stop working until he needed to leave—she understood where Kurt got his ceaseless work ethic.

  Sara’s surgery, a lumpectomy, had been outpatient. From what Kurt shared, she was recovering quickly. Her radiation was expected to start in the middle of next week.

  After wiping his shoes on the rug—it had rained last night—Kurt joined her at the sink. His hand closed over the small of her back as he eyed the dozen jars drying on the counter and the steamy window next to the stove. “Hey, sweets. What’re you doing?”

  Kelsey felt a rush of pleasure at the small but intimate show of affection. This last week, there’d been little time for anything between them beyond a few quick and delicious make-out sessions. This was partially because their days were filled with nonstop work, and partially because the house had become a bustling hub for various volunteer projects—the canine ones led by Kurt, and the maintenance ones by William Crawford—and they’d had very little privacy.

  While Kurt had said he intended to take it slow after what had happened, Kelsey’s confidence sometimes wavered about this being the reason he walked her to her car every night after everyone was gone and the work was done, rather than up to his room. It had helped when last weekend, after he’d walked her to her car and they’d shared a heated kiss, he’d mumbled something about two more weeks. Two weeks that coincided perfectly with Megan’s wedding reception. Maybe Kelsey wasn’t the only one who was hopeful it might be the landmark night it had the potential to be. She’d told Kurt about the room she’d accepted at the bed-and-breakfast, and he’d insisted she keep it, promising he’d get Rob to fill in for him here.

  “I’m finally canning those pears so I can bring a few jars to Ida tonight,” she replied. “Only watch your step. I made quite the mess. I was ladling out some of the syrup because the pot was so full, and I spilled some. The floor’s still sticky in front of the stove. I’ll mop when I’m done.” She opened the handles of the paper bag she’d filled with pear rinds and held it out to show him. “I don’t really know anything about composting, but I thought I’d put these out behind that garden you’re trying to revive.”

  His gaze flicked from the sagging-it-was-so-full bag to her happy grin before his toasty-warm brown eyes locked on hers.

  Kelsey’s phone timer chirped from the back pocket of her pants, alerting her that the pears should be finished boiling. There was something about Kurt’s reaction, however, that momentarily froze her in place. The lightness in his stance had disappeared, and his smile had all but vanished.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  He shook his head. “No, you never do.” He slipped the bulky bag from her fingers and set it on the counter.

  She knew he was going to kiss her before one of his hands closed behind her neck and he pulled her in to him. It was a zero-to-sixty kiss, not sweet, not slow, not timid. She was pressed against the sink as his body ground against her.

  She didn’t know what had caused Kurt’s sudden intensity, but her body responded instinctively. Her blood heated as the ache of desire flamed hot and fresh. It was a hungrier kiss than any she’d experienced.

  Piece by piece, the world fell away. The quietly bubbling pot. The sporadic hammer hits coming from the carriage house. The ceaseless grooming and shuffling sounds the dogs made as they rested in their kennels. It was just her and him and a humming in her ears.

  He pulled away and pressed the palm of her hand against his mouth, then his lips and tongue trailed down her wrist until her damp shirtsleeve impeded him. “You taste like sugar.”

  “It’s the sugar water,” she managed to say. “The pears are done, by the way. I need to turn them off.”

  Kurt whirled the dial, and the soft gas flame disappeared. Then his lips were on hers and his hands were loosening the top button on her jeans and sliding them a few inches down her hips. She racked her brain, trying to remember which pair of underwear she’d pulled on this morning. She hoped it was something sexy but suspected she’d gone with comfort instead.

  His touch superheated the space between her legs. She felt like a rocket readying for lift off. It became a war of hands, the victor the one to find the most soothing flesh first. His smooth skin and toned core were silk against her fingers, but she was still the first to relent. It was too much to explore and receive at the same time.

  His hand moving against her was the single best thing she’d experienced. She tilted her head back and gripped the counter. Her mouth fell open, and she tried not to lose herself in the moans threatening to break out of her throat. Not only would sounds like the ones she wanted to make set the dogs to barking, but the windows were wide open and who knew how far those moans might carry.

  He curled close, pressing his forehead against her neck as he matched his breath to hers and continued those perfect strokes. She floated between conscious thought and pleasure so intense it was without form. She’d never climaxed in the presence of a guy. Not with Steve, the only guy she’d gone all the way with. And not with the ones of lesser importance whose names currently escaped her.

  Though it hadn’t been for lack of trying.

  If she’d had the presence of mind to debate the possibility of doing so in a kitchen in a house filled with kenneled dogs and a pesky cat who was suddenly and persistently rubbing against their calves, her boyfriend’s grandfather and a shelter volunteer not quite a hundred feet away, and a heck of a lot of open windows, she’d have bet against the possibility.

  Kurt sensed it was going to happen a second before she did. His free hand pulled her face against his chest, muffling the gasps that escaped with her NASA-worthy liftoff. He didn’t stop his perfect exploration until the swell of pleasure peaked and finally receded.

  Kelsey was left numb and shaky, but the blood returned to her head faster than she would have predicted. At some point, she’d let go of the counter and was grasping him around the neck. Her heart was beating like she’d run a mile, although this had been anything but dreadful. Mr. Longtail had abandoned the floor and was on the kitchen table, grooming himself.

  Something between a laugh and a gasp escaped. “I’ve never done that before.” She was breathless and stunned and spent a split secon
d debating whether she should clarify the statement before deciding not to.

  It was an open-ended declaration, and she didn’t necessarily want Kurt to know how little experience she’d had. It would be surrendering a vulnerable part of herself, and she wasn’t ready to do that. Not until she was sure he wouldn’t pull a Steve. She wasn’t looking for a proposal, but she didn’t intend to give her heart away again unless she knew she wouldn’t be rejected.

  Kurt pressed his lips against hers, drawing the kiss out as he buttoned her jeans. Things were beginning to intensify once again when Jim called Kurt’s name, the sound traveling clearly through the open windows.

  They pulled apart, and Kurt let out a sigh. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and leaned close to whisper as a pair of feet could be heard bounding up the back porch steps. “It’s probably a good thing that we’re never alone, because I wouldn’t get any work done. Especially now that I’ve gotten a real taste of you.”

  Chapter 19

  Kurt watched the taillights of Kelsey’s Corolla until they disappeared in the darkness. The two of them had managed to find a spot behind one of the trees where they could stand without setting off the floodlights while saying good night after their evening at Ida’s. Knowing he’d trigger the lights and disturb the calm hush that had settled over the yard when he headed back toward the house, he stood in the quiet a while longer.

  The great horned owl that hunted in the area was across the street in a tall pine. Its low hoots punctuated the crisp night, along with the sporadic chirps of a handful of crickets. It was forecast to be the coldest night yet as fall finally crept into the area. The dropping temps made Kurt contemplate closing the windows, even though he was always in favor of fresh air. However, with all the body heat around them and the brick insulation of the house, the dogs wouldn’t get cold.

  In the darkness, Kurt studied the big, quiet house. Like the rustling leaves and the late-summer insects, the Sabrina Raven estate seemed to pulse a beat of its own into the night. For 114 years, it had stood watch over this quiet end of the street. The house might be up there in age and in need of some TLC, but it could shine again.

  How he’d become so certain that this would happen under his watch, he didn’t know, but he felt that certainty deep in his bones.

  He thought of the look of surprise that had come over Kelsey earlier tonight. It had been after a second glass of wine when he’d declared his intention to buy the house when it went up for sale. She’d looked at him as if he’d said he intended to purchase Cape Horn. He couldn’t blame her. Just a little over two weeks ago, she’d heard him declare to Rob that nothing could keep him from heading west. She’d likely been assuming he still intended to head that way when the rehab was over.

  But like Nana had told him, when you got caught with your foot in your mouth, the best thing to do was take it out.

  This house was meant for him. Or he was meant for it. He wasn’t entirely certain which was which. He wasn’t sure how, but he’d get the money. His credit was good, and he had solid savings and even a decent amount in investments from the money he’d earned the last eight years. He was confident he’d be able to get a loan when the time came.

  It was the same way he felt about Kelsey. One way or another, they were supposed to be together. Every sorrow, every loss, every moment of bliss… They’d all been little moments leading him to her. He’d known it before now, had felt the truth of it in both waking and sleeping hours.

  Then he’d walked into the kitchen this afternoon and Kelsey’d given him that happy grin and she’d been so at home in the house. Making him think his dreams might very well be becoming hers.

  And then there’d been the feel of her. Half the evening had passed before his blood finally stopped boiling hot. He’d never get enough of her. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything, but he also wanted her to be the last woman he brought into his bed. How could he start that without trusting himself to fall asleep beside her?

  The last few years, he’d been wondering if he had it in him to fall in love the way his grandparents had. He’d been content being single. He could manage himself and his ADHD very well. Bringing Kelsey into his life the way he wanted to might cause complications, but he was confident they were complications worth experiencing. She’d also bring joy he’d scarcely believed he was capable of having.

  When he’d appreciated the quiet yard long enough, Kurt headed into the house. Ida’s incredible meal sat heavy in his stomach, as did his two glasses of Syrah. He was drowsy and content and deeply tempted to head upstairs to bed rather than collapse on the couch where he’d be quicker to react if anyone considered vandalizing the property again.

  He did a check of the rooms, offering bathroom breaks to a few of the younger, more fidgety dogs, like Zeus. Aside from Devil, the older dogs were napping or gnawing on antlers or tennis balls, and a few were grooming themselves. Devil was five or six, and considering the shorter life spans of two of the breeds that likely helped contribute to his DNA—mastiffs and Danes—he was entering his senior years, even if he didn’t look the part. He’d been gnawing at the doors of his crate but stopped when Kurt entered the room. Now he was on his haunches, staring at Kurt with rapt attention, while tossing intermittent glances toward the front of the house.

  “I’m getting the whole discontentment part, but what are you trying to tell me, guy? There’s not one of you who wants to be here, and maybe you don’t know it yet, but it’s a hefty step up from where you were.” Kurt knelt to inspect the kennel as Devil released something between a sigh and a growl.

  “You’re going to rip out your teeth gnawing at these bars.” Just two weeks into the rehab, and it was Devil’s second kennel. The first one had only lasted three days. He’d gotten out of it right at dawn, as Kurt was waking up. He’d heard the giant paws scratching against wood and had rushed downstairs to find Devil trying to get out the front door. When Kurt approached, the giant dog had run into one of the front rooms and begun pouncing and snarling at the dogs in the crates. The resulting commotion was louder than the roar of a jet engine.

  Kurt opened the crate and clipped a leash to Devil’s collar. Rather than taking him to the backyard, Kurt headed out front, doing his absolute best to make it apparent they were going out the front door because Kurt was allowing it and not because Devil wanted it so badly.

  Judging by the minimal scarring on Devil’s legs—legs were what would take the brunt of the damage on a dog his size—it was unlikely he’d been fighting for a long time. He’d been microchipped at birth, but the chip had never been registered. It traced back to a veterinarian who had stopped treating him just before he turned one when his owner moved out of the area. According to Rob, who’d talked to the vet, the owner’s contact information was no longer valid, and it was against policy to release his name.

  Devil overmarked on a popular tree trunk and, after accepting that Kurt wasn’t going to give in to being pulled down the dark, quiet road, headed up to the porch. He took Kurt by surprise by stretching out on the ground next to the door and letting out a contented sigh.

  “I can’t let you sleep out here, guy. You might chew through your kennel again. We can’t have you escaping mid-rehab and giving those protesters something real to complain about.”

  Kurt blinked in surprise when it hit him what he could do for the dog. Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? With so much German shepherd in him, Devil was a natural guard dog. Having a good view out one of the big front windows might help him feel at ease. They’d been keeping him in the side parlor with only one window, and a small one at that.

  It took a bit of finagling, but in a matter of minutes, Kurt rearranged kennels so that Devil could spend his kenneled time looking outside. Once he had the massive dog settled, he’d swear Devil gave him a gentle look of gratitude. It was also the easiest time he’d had getting the dog back into the crate all week.
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br />   “Night, guy.” Kurt headed upstairs with a smile on his face.

  Pepper was in her room, napping in her kennel even though the door was open. Hearing him, she rolled over to attention, then clambered out. Kurt hopped over the stair gate and joined her halfway across the room. He sank into a squat after she greeted him calmly. He ran his hand along her back and down her side. When her only response was to wag her nubbin of a tail, he ran his hand along her belly. Her stomach was fat and swollen, and it didn’t take much work to feel the bumps from some of the growing pups underneath.

  Whatever extra chaos the arrival of the puppies might end up creating, Kurt was glad Kelsey had pushed to keep her. Pepper was a remarkable dog, and he suspected her pups would bring even more good publicity their way.

  After a few minutes with her, he headed into Frankie’s room. This week, Frankie had proven to be obedient and calm and eager to follow Kurt’s commands. Unlike Pepper, Frankie hadn’t gone back into an open kennel to sleep. Instead, once he’d shown a tolerance for Mr. Longtail and earned freedom within his room, Frankie had sprawled on the floor to nap, usually near the stair gate and door with a tennis ball or two within easy reach. He was the calmest and most content when he was near Kurt, Kelsey, or one of the volunteers.

  “How you doing, old boy?”

  Frankie wagged his tail enthusiastically and began to lick Kurt’s hand. Frankie’s stitches had come out yesterday. Now that the brief swelling from their removal had dissipated, he looked better than ever. The fact that Frankie would forever wear a partial wink and a lopsided grin would likely be something the slew of people wanting to adopt him would find endearing. The top half of his torso would be pocked with small scars as well.

  “You want to know a secret?” Kurt asked, rubbing Frankie’s chest. “I don’t think Kelsey gets that Rob’s guys called you Frankie because it’s short for Frankenstein. So, I’m thinking we don’t tell her. Frankie fits, however it came to be.”