by Zoe Chant
“I wanna know who this girl is,” Dalton drawled, leaning in the bathroom doorway while Caleb shaved. “I haven’t seen you this jumpy since we were in high school.”
“She’s not your type, Dalt, so don’t even think it.” Caleb tilted his chin to get a good angle on the stubble there.
“What type, I don’t have a type.”
Caleb snorted. “Bottle-blond and brassy, that’s your dream date.”
“I like a woman with a little fire to her,” Dalton said. “So who’s this girl, she a quiet librarian type or somethin’?”
“No.” Caleb finished up and rinsed his face in the sink. “Maybe a little. There’s something about her, she’s got me all twisted up.”
“She must have, I saw you made one of Momma’s chess pies. And I saw that little picnic basket you put together,” Dalton teased. “Gonna woo her with your cooking?”
“Might as well, ain’t got nothing else to offer a woman,” Caleb deadpanned.
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, hot shot.” Dalton tossed him a clean towel from the closet in the hall. “Seriously now: you okay?”
Caleb took advantage of the towel to dry off his face and hide while he collected his thoughts. “I think maybe my bear isn’t gone.”
“I’ve been tellin’ you it wasn’t. What made you change your mind?” He moved aside to let Caleb out of the bathroom.
“I’ve felt him. Twice now, in the past week.” He didn’t mention it was when he was with Michaela. That made it sound too much like he was using her, or that he didn’t have any other reason to want to spend time with her.
Dalton whooped. “See, it just took some time. Next time I go hunting, you’re comin’ with me, little brother.”
Caleb threw the damp towel at him. “Don’t bet on it.” That was too much. Feeling the bear spirit inside of him, that was okay. That felt good. Thinking about trying to shift into that bear made his mouth go dry. How the hell would that even work? He was pretty sure his prosthetic foot wouldn’t shift with him, and how could he do anything as a three-legged bear? Caleb wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk, much less run or hunt.
“I don’t know, something’s gotten into you. You’re going out with an actual real live girl, you’re waking up your bear again— you must like that new job.” The pride in Dalton’s voice was there, hidden under the teasing.
“Yeah, who knew it was my life’s ambition to ring up Joanie Hargrave’s tater tots.” Caleb stuck his tongue out.
“As long as you’re ringing up somebody’s tater tots.” Dalton waggled his eyebrows and made it sound dirty. “Maybe you’ll do some ringing up tonight.”
“Momma’d whip you if she heard you talking like that.” Caleb rooted through his closet, looking for the right pair of pants. “Besides, Michaela’s a nice girl. I don’t think she thinks like that.” He knew that was probably true, but it didn’t stop him from feeling just a little bit disappointed. Maybe if things went well enough, he’d get a good night kiss. His heart started pounding just at the thought of her sweet mouth against his.
“Well, if she’s as nice as all that, you better bring her around to supper sometime.”
“Now you’re definitely getting ahead of things.” Caleb finally found the clothes he was looking for. “Now get out of here so I can get dressed.”
Chapter Four
Michaela didn’t see any way to avoid Miss Harvelle when Caleb came to pick her up. When he arrived, he came to the door like a gentleman, and she let him in while she grabbed her shoes and purse. They were both dressed pretty casual— he’d promised her a picnic— but she was pretty sure she’d never seen jeans and a polo shirt look so good before. She wished she had something sharper than her favorite cardigan and jeans, but the only other option was a dress, and it was starting to get chilly at night.
Sure enough, when Caleb opened the door to her apartment to lead them out, there was Miss Harvelle, watering the flowers Michaela had seen her water not two hours earlier. Michaela mentally shook her head ruefully. “Evenin’, Miss Harvelle.”
“Hey Michaela, don’t you look nice. Who’s your friend?” She eyed Caleb up and down.
He stepped up and offered Miss Harvelle his hand. “Caleb Bentley, ma’am. Michaela and I were just going out for some supper.”
“Bentley . . .” Miss Harvelle mused. “Oh, I know. Are you one of the Bentleys that lives up on Route 5?”
“Yes ma’am, that’s us.”
“Y’all have had a real rough time lately. You the one that—”
“Yes ma’am.”
Michaela glanced over at him, surprised he’d interrupt her, as polite as he’d been. Miss Harvelle was unfazed. “Well. I’m glad you’re home safe. Y’all have a good time, okay?”
With that, they were released, and Caleb escorted her to his truck. It wasn’t especially new or fancy, but it was meticulously clean and well-cared for, and Michaela’s hand tingled where he’d given her an assist up into the passenger seat. Between them on a seat was a large, old-fashioned picnic basket, and something in it smelled amazing. Her mouth started watering.
“You weren’t kidding about a picnic,” she said, as he got behind the wheel.
“Sure wasn’t. That okay?” He glanced over.
“It’s great.” She gave him a smile. “The sooner the better, cause whatever’s in there smells too good to wait for.”
He looked especially pleased at that and started the truck. “I know a good spot up in the hills, if you want. Might get chilly later, but I’ve got some blankets.”
She’d expected they’d go to the little city park by the courthouse. The thought of going somewhere a little more secluded made her heart race. “That sounds fine. You know the town, I don’t yet.”
“I’ll have to show you around sometime.” That smile would be the death of her.
As they drove, he pointed out various landmarks and gave her a little bit of town history. She tried not to get distracted by the way his hands practically dwarfed the steering wheel, or the way the muscles in his arms moved and bulged. “Right over there was where there was a shootout in the 1920s,” he was saying, pointing to the town square. “There was a miner’s strike going on and the company sent in hired thugs to make sure the miners didn’t organize. My granddad was there, but I think he was just a kid at the time.”
Michaela knew a little bit about how bloody the history of the coal industry was. “Your family work in the mines?”
He laughed, a rich, warm sound. “Not much else to do, otherwise. My daddy did, and my brother Dalton works there now. I probably would’ve, but...” He trailed off and shrugged. That explained the grocery store. She could just imagine how infuriating it must be for him.
“Your dad retired?” They were leaving the town proper and heading further out into the country, driving up a slow incline.
“He was, black lung got him about five years ago.” He said it without much emotion, just stating a dry fact.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s just me and Dalt now. I’m staying with him in our folks’ old house until I get settled.” So he’d lost his mom too. She wondered if that’s what Miss Harvelle had meant about them having a hard year. “What about you? I don’t think I hardly know anything about you yet. Though I bet if I asked, Miss Harvelle would give me an earful,” he laughed.
“Oh, she would.” Michaela laughed with him. “My mom and dad live over in Wheeling. After I finished school I started working in Louisville— that much you knew already.”
“How on earth did you ever hear about Salem Creek?” He pulled off the main road onto a narrow side road, too narrow for two cars to pass. The incline had gotten steeper as they headed up the mountain.
“I was looking for a job in a small town,” she said. “I saw Dottie’s listing, and the rest is history.” She toyed with the hem of her cardigan. “I’ve been here about a month. You already know how long I’ve been working,” she joked. “Most people spend all their ti
me trying to get out of here, you know. You must be special.” He glanced over, his eyes shining with a warmth that soaked her right to the bone.
“Maybe this place is special,” she murmured.
“Speaking of special places,” he said abruptly, “we’re here.” He pulled the truck out of the tree line and into a wide clearing. At the far end, a sheer cliff face rose up from the grass. Beyond it, and over the trees, a row of mountains stretched as far as she could see. The late summer breeze was cooling for the night, and they’d be able to see the sunset.
“Wow,” Michaela said, when she could speak. “It’s beautiful.”
Caleb beamed and grabbed the picnic basket. When she reached for her door handle, he said, “Hang on,” and hurried over to get her door. He gave her a hand down from the truck, and she warmed at the attention. “Thank you.”
“All righty, ma’am, where would you like to eat, sitting in the grass, or in the back of the truck?” He gestured at the field around them. “Probably fewer bugs in the back of the truck.”
“Let’s go with that, then.”
He set the basket in the back and lowered the tailgate before fishing out a neatly folded pile of blankets from behind the passenger seat. Before she could offer to help at all, he hoisted himself into the truck bed and started spreading out the blankets, leaving her a little breathless at his agility and strength. Phantom pain or no, he was adjusting to life just fine, from the looks of it. Once he had a nice little nest set up, he hopped back down, and only then did she see him favor his bad leg at all. He covered so fast she might have missed it.
He gave her a mock bow and a smile. “Your table is ready, miss.” She started to climb up in the truck, trying not to be too awkward. “Allow me,” he said, and she nodded, expecting him to offer her a hand the way he did before. He came up behind her, and before she could protest that she was too heavy, he put his strong hands around her waist and lifted her high enough that she could get her feet beneath her in the truck bed. When he let her go, she had to keep from whining in protest.
Caleb followed with another jump and they settled in the front, their backs to the cab. The view was as breathtaking as Caleb’s easy strength. “You sure know how to choose a good picnic spot,” she said.
“Let’s hope as I did as good with the picnic.” He pulled the basket open and started to pull out paper plates and plastic utensils. The aroma she’d first noticed inside the pickup got even stronger. “I should have asked,” he said, “I hope you like home cooking.”
“Do I look like I don’t?” She grinned at him.
“You look like the kind of woman I’d love to cook for.” He met her eyes and a shiver passed through her. “So I did.” He started pulling out a seemingly endless supply of goodies. Cold fried chicken, homemade coleslaw, a bowl full of fresh sliced ripe tomatoes and cucumbers, and lord help her, cornbread wrapped in foil so it was still warm. A cooler inside the basket held a couple of sodas and a couple of beers.
“You cooked all this? Yourself?” Michaela tried to imagine him looming over a stove in a frilly apron and had to fight off the giggles.
He shrugged modestly. “Told you, it’s just me and Dalton, and ain’t no way I’m letting him get near a stove.”
They filled their plates and settled back to eat. Michaela’s first bite of the fried chicken had her closing her eyes in bliss. Light and crispy, just enough pepper. It was one of the best things she’d eaten in ages. She might have groaned out loud, cause she opened her eyes and saw Caleb watching her. “You’re telling me the truth? You cooked this?”
“I would never lie about fried chicken,” he said, solemnly crossing his heart.
“You are a wonder, Caleb Bentley.” She shook her head and sampled the rest. The cole slaw wasn’t what she expected, there was no vinegary bite to it, just a rich, savory crunch. And the cornbread— well, it was still warm and he’d brought the butter. If Michaela didn’t watch out, she was going to stuff herself silly.
“Everything okay?” he asked, after they’d been quietly eating.
“It’s delicious. All of it. I can’t decide if the cornbread or the chicken is my favorite.”
“I have to tell you something,” he said. The uncertainty on his face tugged at her heartstrings and he looked at her from lowered eyes. “I... cheat a little with my cornbread. It’s from a mix.”
Michaela blinked at him, then started laughing. “Oh my lord, I thought you were about to confess to one of the seven deadly sins!”
“I don’t know what kind of cornbread y’all eat in Louisville, but around here, cornbread from a mix is one of the seven deadly sins.” He was trying to keep a straight face but failing, and it was adorable.
“Then I’m a sinner, because I love it.” Their eyes met again, and she felt the shift between them, tugging them together. She was the first to look away, but not before she saw his cheeks turn pink.
“Well, I hope you saved room for something else sinful,” he said, and her first thought was not of dessert at all. It turned out that was exactly what he meant, though—he brought out two gargantuan slices of pie. Michaela gasped. “Is that chess pie? I haven’t had that in years.”
“It is, my momma’s recipe.” He handed her a plate and a clean fork.
“There’s no way I can eat all that.” Even as she said it though, the first bite made her reconsider. Sweet and rich and smooth on her tongue, it was every bit as good as she remembered from her childhood. “It’s not fair that you can bake too.”
He grinned, and it made her smile to see the way his chest puffed a little with pride. If he’d keep smiling at her like that, she’d eat the whole slice. Not that it was going to be that much of a hardship. He polished his off in record time, and watched her. She ducked her head, self-conscious of being a big girl eating a big slice of pie. “What?” she said.
“I just like a girl who eats,” he said. “Especially if she likes my cooking.”
“Any girl who didn’t would be a fool.” As much as she wanted to finish it, the richness got to be too much. “I can’t eat another bite. You want it?” He took the remaining sliver and made it disappear. They cleared away the remains of the picnic and settled back against the truck cab, full and content, looking out over the slowly darkening sky.
“Michaela, I owe you an apology for the other day.”
Michaela looked over at him, startled. “You owe me an apology? What for?”
When he reached down and took her hand, it felt completely natural. She felt like she could curl up and bask in the warm glow all night. “I was a jerk when we met. I— I guess I wasn’t expecting to work with a pretty girl, and it was like all my good manners and small talk just dried up and blew away.”
She stared at him, feeling her jaw drop, then she laughed, too much for someone with such a full belly. He called me pretty, though.
Caleb’s face fell, and he started to pull his hand away. Michaela held on and tried to get control of herself. “No, no I’m not laughing at you,” she said. “I’m sorry. I was thinking I needed to apologize to you.” She bit her lower lip before rushing on. “I saw you and I think I lost all my good manners too. You’re so—” While “hot” was definitely the word that came to mind, that was too forward. “So impressive. I thought I made you uncomfortable staring at you.”
By now they were turned to face one another. One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Michaela, I’m a huge guy with one leg, plus everybody in town wants to come tell me how sorry they are that I’m one-legged and how proud they are to know me— even though I’m the same dumbass country boy who used to make them all shake their heads when I was running wild in high school. They act like I’m not.” His shoulders lifted and fell. “I’m kinda used to getting stared at.”
Oh no, she had made him uncomfortable, but maybe not the way she thought. He really didn’t get it. A surge of bravery made her lift her free hand and rest it on his cheek. His eyes widened as he looked d
own at her. “That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I’m a physical therapist, Caleb. I’ve seen every type of body you can think of, some with missing parts, some with new parts, big, small, old, young— it’s all just part of who that individual person is. I wasn’t staring at you because you’re missing a leg. I was staring at you because you’re one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen, and well— in my line of work there are rules about that sort of thing.”
He was quiet just long enough for her to start to panic that she’d said the wrong thing. Finally he said, “I suppose it’s probably against those rules for me to kiss you?” He dragged the pad of his thumb over her lower lip and that simple touch was enough to start a fire in her body.
“I— well—” She couldn’t think for the way his eyes moved over her face, lingering on her mouth, or the way his thumb brushed over her cheekbone. She licked her lips nervously, hyper-conscious of his eyes on her mouth. “If I was your regular physical therapist, yeah...”
Caleb leaned a little closer, his mouth twitching as if he were enjoying her nervousness. “But not if you were my substitute?”
“I wouldn’t be able to work with you again...” He was so close she could almost taste him, sweeter than chess pie and even more dangerous to her well-being.
The hand that had been resting on her face he now moved to curl around the base of her skull, drawing her closer. “We’ll just have to tell Marty he can’t take Mondays off anymore.”
“I’ll have to tell—” And then he cut her off with his lips pressed to hers. His kiss was so sweet she wanted to cry, and so hot she thought she’d burn to ash sitting right there in the bed of his pickup truck. She squeezed his hand and leaned closer to him, parting her lips to welcome him inside. He teased her at first, flicking the tip of his tongue at the edges of her lips, each lick sending the flames higher before he finally stroked his tongue against hers, sliding into her mouth easy and slow.
Michaela moaned softly and he answered with a soft murmur against her lips. He let go of her hand to slide both his hands into her hair, sending tingles from her scalp down her spine. She reached blindly for him, her hands landing somewhere on his sides. His body was warm and firm beneath her fingers, and she couldn’t resist running her hands up and down his sides.