by Maisey Yates
She was wearing a loose, low-cut gray sweater, with a pink tank top underneath that was peeking out the top, looking a little bit too much like a bra for his liking. Paired with that was a tight-fitting black skirt, a pair of textured tights and some knee-high boots. It was as if she was trying to kill him. Felicity Foster, in his kitchen, with her Grade A cleavage.
“Hi,” she said brightly. Too brightly in his opinion. It was almost as though nothing had changed between them.
And then he realized that as far as she was concerned, nothing had. She had been acting completely normal, even since the underwear incident. He was the one with the issues.
The one dealing with hormones that rivaled those of a fourteen-year-old boy.
“Hi,” he said, probably also too brightly, since he usually lacked brightness altogether.
“I am actually headed over to Sadie’s to discuss you. You should come.”
“Is this the tea and logistics thing? Because I don’t think I should be involved in that.” He started to move away from Liss and edged closer to the kitchen.
“Yes, it is the tea and logistics. And it is about you and your barn. Also, I have been assured that there will be cupcakes. Not only will there be cupcakes, there will possibly be quiche.”
He grunted. “That is a whole lot of very girlie food.”
“And you want it. Don’t bother to deny it. You know, it’s probably quiche with bacon in it.”
His stomach chose that very moment to growl. Traitor. “Okay, I could use some food.”
“Great. So why don’t you walk me over?”
He gritted his teeth. “Sure.”
He pulled the front door open again and held it for her, waiting for her to get out onto the porch before he followed her, slamming it shut behind them.
She tromped down the stairs, obviously oblivious of just how her skirt tightened around her ass. He was not oblivious, dammit. It was as though a veil had been ripped from in front of his eyes. And suddenly, Liss was a woman. With breasts, and a perfect ass and interesting underwear.
It was a disaster.
“It’s about time for the oaks to start dropping their leaves,” Liss said, kicking at a dried brown leaf on the ground.
“Yeah, about the time the madrones stop dropping them.”
“If Oregon has one thing, it’s trees.”
He grunted. He was not in the space to be making small talk. Really, he was not in the space to be walking through the property with her. He needed to be in avoidance mode.
They crossed the little grove of trees that ran between his driveway and the driveway that led back to the Catalogue House. No oak trees here, just thick evergreens.
When they reached the end of the road, Connor was shocked again by all that Sadie had done with the place. He didn’t come by very often. Usually, when Eli and Sadie were feeling social they came to the main house, and occasionally Connor went to Eli’s. But he didn’t often have occasion to stop by the bed-and-breakfast.
The front yard was perfectly manicured, with little patches of green lawn surrounded by rhododendron, pansies and a whole bunch of other flowers he didn’t know the names for.
Flowers had been Jessie’s thing, not his. Even now, something about the sight of little flower beds like this made him want to go get her, so he could show her. Or made him think she must have just been around. And if he went back to the house he would find her on the front porch, wiping the sweat off her forehead and taking off dirty gardening gloves, having just finished planting.
It was such a strange feeling, and so persistent once it took hold, that it was hard to shake.
Frankly, he preferred the post-masturbation shame.
Though if he had a choice, he would take neither.
He turned his attention away from the flowers and focused on Liss again. On the way she looked when she walked up the stairs.
He was officially a bastard. Oh, well. Everyone already thought he was. Might as well embrace it.
Liss knocked on the door, and it took only a few moments for Sadie to answer. When she saw him, Sadie’s blue eyes widened. “Oh, Connor, I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Is it a problem?”
“No! I’m glad you came.”
“I’m not!” a voice called from inside the house.
“And Kate’s here,” he said.
“Yes, she wanted to come and help. And she was already acting as assistant baker. I have a full house. Though everyone is out on a whale-watching tour right now.”
“How fun,” Liss said, walking inside. “It’s funny, when you live here you never do half as much as people visiting seem to.”
Connor listened to them make small talk as they walked through the entryway and into the dining area. There was indeed a decent selection of food on the table, though he maintained that the food on offer was girlie.
His sister was sitting at the head of the table, a slice of quiche on a plate in front of her, a dainty little mug with something hot inside sitting next to it. He didn’t think he had ever seen Kate with something so feminine that close to her.
In spite of her floral cup she was in her usual uniform of plaid shirt and shapeless work jeans, her dark hair in one long braid. His sister was definitely a contrast next to Liss with her skirt, and Sadie with her armful of bangles, long dress and blond hair loose around her shoulders.
Part of him worried that being raised by a couple of half-civilized men had done Kate a disservice. Another part of him was just glad he didn’t have to beat the boys off her with a stick.
“Go ahead. Grab a plate and a chair, Connor,” Sadie said.
He complied, sitting in the chair next to Kate. He declined the generous offer of tea, because he was not going to drink out of one of those pansy-ass cups. He did not, however, decline the quiche, which did indeed have bacon in it.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to the barn raising,” Sadie said. And it took him a moment to realize she was talking to him.
“I didn’t really agree to anything,” he said. “I got steamrolled by Liss.”
Liss snorted. “You did not. I don’t do that. I don’t steamroll.”
Kate laughed, slapping her hand on the table. “Sorry, Liss, but you kind of do. I mean that in a good way. You get stuff done.”
“Well, it’s a good idea,” Liss said, her tone insistent. “And I knew you would need pushing. It’s...aggressive assistance, is a nice name for it.”
“Steamrolling,” he said.
“Well, however we arrived at this point, with you at my table eating quiche and agreeing, I’m thankful,” Sadie said. “My guests are thrilled at the prospect of being a part of this. So you know this helps me in ways I hadn’t even considered.”
And he really was glad about that. Because Sadie was a good person, and he certainly appreciated all that she had done in Eli’s life.
“Great. I just don’t want things to get out of hand.”
“What’s out of hand to you?” Sadie asked.
“Anything more than two people and a cooler full of beer,” Kate said.
His sister was mocking him, but she was pretty close to the truth.
“I don’t know, maybe no sponsors,” he said.
“I already called Ace,” Sadie said, speaking as though he hadn’t, “and he agreed to donate some beer. On tap.”
“He’s too giving,” Connor said. Plus, his gesture would attract a hell of a lot of people.
“Lydia wants to help spread the word,” Sadie said, talking about Copper Ridge’s president of the Chamber of Commerce. “We were thinking of touting it as an old-fashioned barbecue and barn raising, to help a family who has given so much to the community.”
“Eli has given so much to the community. All I do is play darts and r
anch cattle.”
“Look,” Kate said, picking at her quiche with her fingers, “people love you. Don’t ask me why, because I think you’re a rather unpleasant cuss. But they do. They want to help. So many people saw the barn burn, and they feel connected to this.”
“Did you take an informal poll?” he asked.
“Well, seeing as I work at one of the town’s main hubs, yeah, I kind of did. Or rather, I didn’t have to,” Kate said, looking defiant. “Because people ask about you. They ask about the barn, they ask about the ranch. They want to know how you’re doing.”
Connor shifted in his seat. It wasn’t really as if the town’s concern surprised him. Everybody had been very concerned about him when Jessie had died. He’d had more casseroles than one man could humanly consume. Yeah, he knew they cared. But he didn’t know what to do with all that caring. Because it kind of made his chest tight, and then that made him angry and he just wanted to be left alone. Or drunk. And it was a really bad combination in the end.
Being ignored was better than receiving sympathy. Or it had gotten twisted into that in his mind. Dealing with sympathy was hard. It felt as though you needed to be strong and reassuring for the people who showed up at your doorstep with sad eyes and layers of tuna and cheese in a pan.
They wanted to know that you were okay, so you had to look okay. They asked if things were getting better. But they wanted only one answer. You couldn’t tell them that things were getting worse, because your wife was still buried six feet under the ground, and that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.
Yeah, Connor sucked with sympathy.
“Talking to people is hard,” Connor said.
“You’re talking to us right now,” Sadie said.
“Do I look like I’m enjoying myself?” he asked, taking another bite of his quiche.
“If you’re not enjoying yourself, you had better spit my quiche out and walk on home,” Sadie said. “Oh, yeah, cranky man, I have your number. And I’m not going to put up with your crap.”
He grumbled and took another bite of the quiche. “I will eat as much quiche as I damn well please.”
It was Liss who looked at him, sympathy in her golden eyes. Sympathy he did not deserve, considering what he had just done over her image the night before. “Connor, I actually do understand that this is hard. Because I know how people used to look at you, and how they look at you now.”
His throat tightened. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that before you lost her everybody knew you were strong. They treated you like a man. And now they treat you like something that might break. They look at you like you’re a widower. And nothing else. And I know that’s a serious pain in the ass, especially because you don’t want to feel that way.”
He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the way Liss cut right through with the truth, like a precision blade sliding right up under his skin.
“It really is only because they care, though. So let them care. And show them that you’re okay,” she said.
He nodded slowly. “Fine, do what you want.”
“We’re going to have caramel apples,” Kate said, smiling widely.
“Sounds festive.”
“You couldn’t sound less thrilled,” Liss said.
“I have fillings. Caramel apples are more of an obstacle course than a treat,” he said drily.
“We got a band,” Sadie said, almost exploding with her joyousness. Joyousness he did not share.
“I’m getting the feeling that you were going to do this even if I said no.”
Kate had the decency to look somewhat sheepish. “Eli and I were going to outvote you.”
“Damn part owners. You don’t even do anything.” He was joking. Mostly.
“Yes, I know family can be a real pain in the ass,” Kate said, her tone cheery.
“I’m not going to fight you anymore. I surrender.” He held his hands up and earned smiles from all three women. It was a rare thing in his world, to have a woman smile at him. Having three of them do it at once was sort of amazing.
“As soon as we can get all of the materials we need for the frame, we can have the barn raising. So I’m thinking we’ll schedule it for two weeks from now. How does that sound?” Sadie asked.
“Does it really matter what I think, Sadie?”
“No,” Liss said.
“When I die, I’m half convinced my gravestone will read here lies Connor Garrett, good intentions were the death of him.”
“Better than wolverines,” Kate said. “Death by wolverine would suck.”
“That depends,” Sadie said. “Are we talking Hugh Jackman Wolverine, or flea-infested, forest-dweller wolverine with the hinky little claws?”
“I was thinking the flea-infested, hinky version, but Hugh Jackman would be a pretty decent way to go,” Kate said.
“This has been great,” he said, standing up from the table. “But I think I’m going to go back to work now.”
Kate stood up and wrapped her arms around him in an uncharacteristic hug. He threw one arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Don’t be mad, Connor. I love you. I just wanted to do this because I love you.”
He took a deep breath, and for some reason it was difficult. Like Kate was squeezing him too tight. But that wasn’t it. It was something on the inside. “I know, Katie. I love you, too.”
“Okay, let’s stop with all this now,” she said, pulling away from him and smiling. “I can only take so much mushiness.”
“I think my tolerance is even lower than yours.”
“I’ll walk you back,” Liss said.
“You trust these two with the rest of the details?” he asked.
“Trust me, Connor, I’m a professional,” Sadie said.
“You aren’t a professional party planner,” he said.
She shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m a professional something.”
“Ha-ha. That’s very comforting,” he said.
“Bye, Connor. Bye, Liss,” Sadie said, clearly eager to get rid of him so she could start figuring out how to hire party clowns, balloon-animal artists and other things that were sure to horrify him down to his bones.
“Behave yourself,” he said as he and Liss walked back out onto the porch.
“She is not going to behave herself,” Liss said sagely. “She doesn’t know how.”
“You,” he said, holding his finger out toward her. “You started this.”
She snapped her teeth near the end of his finger, and he lowered it. “Do that again and I’ll bite it off,” she said. “Anyway, you deserve this.”
“Why does that sound like an insult and not something positive?”
Liss smiled. “Because it’s a little bit of both.”
“I ought to send you out to the shed to live. You can nest in all of your stored belongings instead of sleeping in my nice warm house.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me,” she said, walking past him and starting down the stairs, putting him in direct line of sight with her butt again. “Because I am adorable. We went through this already.”
“You keep forgetting that I am not very nice.”
“No, you keep forgetting that you are all bark and no bite. I, on the other hand, have a little bite, as I believe I just proved.”
“That was not a bite. That was a snap. Threats don’t count.” He walked down the stairs after her, quickly catching up to her on the path. “And you were right. I don’t know what to do with people. There, I admitted it.”
“You didn’t need to admit it to me. I already knew.”
“It’s just that I don’t really know what to do with casseroles and sympathy. Honestly, I don’t know what to do with casseroles. What the hell is that? Why do people bring you food that seems designed to m
ake you sadder? It isn’t like people actually make that shit for themselves. It’s the designated bereavement food, and it’s terrible. I lost my wife, not my taste buds. People should bring cake and Jack Daniel’s.”
Liss laughed, and he appreciated that. Not very many people would have laughed, because his brand of dark humor tended to make normal people uncomfortable. He made people uncomfortable. “I think it’s just because they’re easy to transport. I don’t think it’s because they’re actively trying to sadden you with their one-pot meals.”
“Sure. Nobody is ever trying to actively hurt you.”
“They do a pretty good job, though, don’t they?”
Connor reached up and grabbed a twig off a low-hanging branch and snapped it off. “Mainly because people make everything about themselves. How your pain feels to them. And what they think you should do with it. I don’t think they mean to. It’s just that we’re all really selfish when it comes down to it. And I’ve been selfish, God knows. But I feel a little justified.”
“You are.”
He threw the twig off to the side. “I guess I have to try sometime, though, right?”
“To not be a big surly beast? Yeah, probably.”
He closed his eyes and stopped walking. “I just never want to...” He opened his eyes. “You never want to make other people hurt like you do. So you keep a lot of stuff to yourself. I’m not sure it’s the best.”
Liss stopped, turning to face him. “Connor, you never have to keep things from me. You don’t have to protect me.”
The words were hovering on his lips, words that he had never spoken out loud. But he held them back. “Good to know.”
There was no point in talking about any of it now. No point in telling Liss the secret he had kept for three long years. It was better to just keep it inside. At least there, it would hurt only him.
“So,” he said, changing the subject, “if I wanted a dunk tank, could we use you as the victim?”
“I am not going to get in a dunk tank. Not even for you.”
“Come on, Liss, you’re ruining the carnival atmosphere.”
“You get in the dunk tank.”