One Taste

by Cari Quinn

  “I doubt that’s what the preacher and his five kids think.”

  “How do you know he’s got five… Oh.”

  There was a photo beside the door with the community bulletins. A pretty blonde woman stood with a baby in her arms and four in varying ages around her.

  Shane linked their hands and went up to the door at the side of the building. He pressed the doorbell and took her bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

  “I can carry my own stuff—”

  “Let me play the doting husband, will ya?”

  The door opened, and the pretty woman from the picture stood before them, smiling. “You must be the couple Jasper mentioned.”

  “This is Kendall, my wife.” He didn’t even trip over the word. The idea wasn’t nearly as terrifying as it should be. He’d just met her, and she’d blown his world to hell, but the idea of her and forever didn’t send him running. He needed a damn lobotomy. “And I’m Shane Justice.”

  She ushered them in and led them to a small kitchen. “I’m Delinda Cooper. My husband is finishing up a visit to a ward member, but he’ll be back in a little while.” She gestured to a chair in the adjoining dining room. “You two look tired. Can I get you something to eat?”

  Kendall smiled back. “No, we don’t want to be a bother.”

  “It’s no bother. I’ll be right back.”

  Kendall sagged into a ladder-back chair and dropped her head onto her folded arms. “It’s not even eight o’clock, and I could sleep right here.”

  He smoothed her hair absently and looked around the room. Oak furniture infused with beeswax polish calmed him. It was a room that would have suited his mother. Understated and well cared for, the eight-foot table was perfect for large gatherings. Even in a town as run-down as Lund, he imagined there would be a feast for Thanksgiving.

  And this would be his first holiday alone. The pang of loss curled his fingers into her hair. She looked up at him; surprise changed to a soft questioning glance. Kendall read him far too easily. He drew his hand away, but instead of letting him go, she snagged his pinkie. He could pull away. She’d left it open for him to pull back if he wanted, but he didn’t—couldn’t. Soaking in her softness and laughter was addicting, and he found himself going to that well more often than was wise.

  Delinda came back with two covered plates, and he let her hand go. “You two must be just exhausted. Why don’t you eat, and I’ll make sure the room is ready.”

  “We don’t want to trouble you—”

  Kendall stood and took the plates. “We really appreciate the hospitality. I run a bed-and-breakfast myself. My mother is just like you. She needs to take care of all the people who walk through the doors.”

  Delinda blushed. “I don’t get much of an opportunity to do it, but I love it. Five kids keep me on my toes, though. And Jonathon.”

  Shane shut his mouth. Kendall had a sixth sense about people. The two women chattered on about kids and the husband. Before he knew it, he was sitting in front of a plate of meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and brussels sprouts, and Delinda had disappeared again.

  “How do you know what to say to these people? It boggles my mind.”

  She forked up a brussels sprout and held it out to him. “Some people just like to take care of people.”

  He turned his mouth away. “I suppose.”

  She laughed. “Eat your brussels sprouts, little boy.”

  He gave her a bland look. “No.”

  She popped it into her mouth. “They’re delicious.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “No, really. She seasoned them with all sorts of deliciousness. I’ll have to get the recipe for my mom. Most of our recipes revolve around perch or trout fish.”

  “Lots of fishing goes on? I’m trying to picture you with a fishing pole.”

  Her grin faded, and she focused on her plate. “Yeah, well, it’s not pretty.” Before he could ask her more about that, Delinda came back in.

  “There are towels on your bed and a minifridge stocked with water, juice, and some fruit. Help yourselves.”

  Shane stood. “Thank you for putting us up tonight. We appreciate it. Just let us know how much we can pay you—”

  “Oh, there’s no payment. We just help when it’s needed.”

  Shane sat. That wasn’t the way the world worked.

  Kendall covered his hand. “Surely we can donate to the church.”

  Delinda’s smile was wide and nearly rivaled Kendall’s in punch. “You do whatever makes you happy.”

  And that was the correct answer, Shane thought. But it didn’t have the oily, preachy tones he’d been expecting. The idea that there were people out there who still did things out of the kindness of their hearts was foreign to him. His father’s charm was friendly, but in the end, it served a purpose. It drew people in, made them trust him, and helped build his business.

  But really, was it any different? Obviously his father continued to help his clients even when the money wasn’t coming in. That was the only way he’d have gotten into so much trouble.

  Kendall squeezed his hand to bring him back to the conversation. “Shane isn’t quite used to the small-town mentality. I’m bringing him home to Winchester Falls, and he’ll learn.”

  “Oh, are you two newly married?”

  Shane swallowed a laugh when Kendall’s face blanked. “We decided a change of scenery would be good for us. A new adventure,” he said. Not a lie. It certainly had been a new adventure for both of them.

  Kendall’s eyebrows lifted. “Ah, yeah. That’s got me a little nervous. Big change of pace for us as a couple.”

  “I bet.” Delinda looked down at their plates. “You two must have been starving.”

  Shane glanced down, surprised to see his plate was empty save for the green bits.

  Kendall smiled. “I really need your recipe for the brussels sprouts. My mom would kill for it. They’re great, aren’t they, honey?”

  Shane shot a sidelong glance at her and popped one in his mouth. The salt and garlic and…God, was that bacon? He nodded and stabbed three more. “Amazing.”

  “I’ll write it up for you tonight.”

  “That’d be great.”

  Kendall stood and went for the plates, but Delinda waved her off. “I’ll just bring them over to the house and put them in the dishwasher. I’ll show you to your room.”

  Shane took both bags and followed the women. They talked about the more colorful aspects of having strangers in their lives, and he realized just how much Kendall loved her place. Her eyes brightened, and her entire face lit up. He dropped the bags inside the door. The room was full of more oak furniture in the understated Shaker style he loved so much. Simple lines and slatted inserts that were such a signature of the style were echoed in the bed and side tables. He smoothed his hand over the butter-soft surface. More beeswax polish and a sweet berry scent filled the room.

  The walls were an unobtrusive cream with a matching beige carpet that let the furniture shine. Fat green bottles and deep red candles ringed with holly over crystal gave it a homey touch.

  “Oh, Delinda, it’s beautiful. I can’t believe you did all this in a basement room.”

  “We have a lot of help with the church.”

  Kendall faced Delinda. “Well, we appreciate it more than you know. A bed is all I want.”

  Delinda’s smile softened. “The front is locked up, and our house is just through the back door of the kitchen and across the yard if you need anything.”

  Shane came up behind Kendall and laid his hand on her shoulder. “No, just the bed and shower.”

  “I’ll leave you to it. Breakfast is at eight.”

  “Thanks,” Kendall said and held out both her hands, gripping Delinda’s. She gripped back, and Kendall released her. After a final good-bye she turned the lock and leaned against the door. “This is gorgeous.”

  He trailed his hand over the end of the sleigh bed. “This bed is old and done by a master carpe
nter.”

  “Good, because I plan on sleeping like a queen on it. After a shower.”

  “You go ahead.”

  “Yeah?” She smiled up at him. “I have no shame. I’ll take it first.” She grabbed her bag and dashed into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

  Part of him wanted to follow her and see how big the shower was. But knowing basement plumbing as he did, he preferred to wait out his disappointment. And the sharp need to touch her, to feel water on her skin, to lose himself inside her again was too acute.

  It was too much with the word marriage dangling over his head. Even if it was a lie. When he was around Kendall, nothing felt light or casual. He shook off those thoughts. He didn’t want to think about forever, not when everything was so in flux.

  STEAM FOLLOWED KENDALL out of the bathroom. She’d cranked the heat until her skin was pink, but her muscles were loose, and her back had stopped screaming for the moment. Endless hours in the truck were taking their toll. She flipped the towel off her hair and froze.

  Shane had stripped down to his jeans. Dirt streaked his neck and arms, but his back was a perfect smooth, tanned expanse of skin. Muscles bunched in his shoulders and rippled over his back as he dug into his bag. He turned to her, and the sardonic lift to his brow crumbled all the layers of resolve she’d built in the shower.

  She craved his touch. They were in a church basement, and she still wanted to curl herself around him and feel him pulse inside her. The devil had to be sitting on her shoulder. She glanced at the bed with the slats for a headboard and the pristine white sheets. It should make her feel chaste.

  But all she could think about was gripping those slats until they bit into her palms as he slammed into her. Over her, filling her until she was screaming his name. Until nothing mattered but how they fit.

  “Christ, Kendall.”

  She winced. Exactly. “I’m sorry.” He crossed the room, standing before her with his chest a fraction of an inch away from the knot of her towel. She looked up at him. “You better take a shower. I’ll try to be asleep before you get out.”

  “You think that will make this easier?”

  She closed her eyes. “Maybe.” He didn’t say a word, but she felt him move away and missed his warmth and the endless buzz that surrounded her when he was in her space. The click of the door behind her freed her to move into the room. She quickly slathered on her lotion to combat the lack of moisture in the desert. She’d grabbed clothes for the next day but nothing to sleep in.

  “Great.”

  She turned to Shane’s bag and found an old, stretched-out undershirt in the stack of clothes jammed into the corner of the duffel. Trying not to overthink things, she quickly pulled it on and slid beneath the sheets. Her nipples beaded under the ultrasoft cotton. No, she was not going to get herself worked up.

  She could hear him in the shower. Imagined his economical movements. Shane wasn’t the type to linger. He was always in a hurry, always prepared to get the job done.

  Especially when the job included getting her off.

  And that was not helping.

  She turned her nose into the pillow. Vanilla and the soft scent of clothesline-fresh sheets mixed with the heady scent of cranberry that teased the air. Nothing about the basement was dank and stale—no, Delinda Cooper wouldn’t allow that in her house or her church.

  Church.

  As if she needed the reminder.

  She buried her face in the pillow and screamed. She’d napped with Shane before. With the desert-sunset romance setting, she’d managed to nod off for a few hours. Surely she could do the same in a church. The least romantic idea in the history of romance. She could relax and draw in the peace for a good night’s rest.

  She flipped onto her back and folded her hands over the sheets across her middle. She drew in a breath and closed her eyes. Deeply through the nose and out through the mouth. One after the other until her heart stopped fluttering madly. She heard the door of the bathroom open, and she continued to keep her eyes closed.

  Her imagination was more than enough. She could see the ridges of his stomach muscles and the endless ropy muscles of his arms and the tight strength in his thighs. Even the long, masculine feet. She remembered them peeking from the frayed edges of his jeans. Her breath shortened.

  Keep cool, Kendall.

  She heard him moving around the room. The bed dipped, and the tang of mint in the air and the woodsy scent of his soap killed any hope of keeping her heart rate in check. Her head fuzzed with the rush of blood and how quickly it flushed the rest of her. Her nipples tightened again, and her sex swelled. She shifted under the sheets, closing her legs to hold herself together.

  He kept a few inches between them when he finally settled onto his back.

  She couldn’t stand it any longer.

  She opened her eyes, and he had one arm tucked under his head. The wide planes of muscle and chest hair shouldn’t make a better pillow than the down that cupped her head like it was made for her. Memories of the crisp hair under her cheek the night before didn’t help. She wanted to feel that again. But she didn’t trust herself.

  Touching Shane made her want more.

  She’d slept the night before in the flatbed of the truck, and nothing had happened then.

  She rolled onto her side, away from him, but the bed wasn’t exactly big enough for Shane. Her butt bumped into his arm. His very tense arm.

  Evidently his relaxed pose was about as believable as hers.

  She held still and curled her arms around her pillow. The want permeated the air, and yet both of them stayed on their sides of the bed. She opened her eyes, and a picture of Jesus stared back at her from the wall. She groaned and closed her eyes. All it needed was Jesus on there to add to the torture.

  She slid into a fitful sleep. The cool sheets grew warm, and her dreams dragged her deeper. Hair-roughened legs tangled with hers; the heat at her back and the cool medal of his rosary burned into her flesh. His hand cupped her breast, pushing aside the shirt to knead and pluck at her nipple. His chin dug into her neck, and his other hand curled under her and around her neck in an embrace that was everything. Hope and home, love and life, warmth and want.

  She laced their fingers together and brought them to her mouth.

  Everything.

  When she opened her eyes, the gauzy veil of dawn touched the room. There were no arms around her, no Shane in her bed, and the phantom pleasure of his touch faded with reality. She sat up and caught sight of Shane in the wide wooden chair, his legs splayed out, his cheek pressed into the cushioned back, and a throw over his shoulders.

  He couldn’t even sleep with her?

  Just dreams. Just like everything about them. Fantasy and dreams. She had to remember that. There could be fun on the road, but it had to stay fun.

  She slid out from under the sheets and got dressed. Shane slept on while she used the bathroom and French braided her hair to keep her curls under control. She stared into the mirror. “At least you have some semblance of decorum.”

  “Kendall?”

  She gathered her toiletries and went back into the room. “I’m all set. You can have the bathroom.”

  He stretched and cracked his neck but wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Okay.” He glided by her, making sure their skin didn’t touch.

  The silence between them as they packed was like another person in the room. They passed each other with murmured excuse-mes and no eye contact. Every time he almost touched her, it ratcheted up the tension until she couldn’t stand it. “Why did you sleep in the chair? We slept together fine last night.”

  He stacked a pile of shirts until they were a tight cube of cotton and jammed it into the corner of his bag. “I was restless. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “I sleep like a rock.”

  He didn’t look up. “I’ve only slept with you once, Kendall. I don’t know that about you.”

  She cracked her molars together. “Fine.”

 
; He looked up at that. “Don’t get pissy at me. We agreed to keep this light, remember?”

  “Oh, I remember. It was my idea.”

  His evergreen eyes chilled. “Ready to go?”

  “Definitely.”

  She followed him up the stairs, resolutely staring at his boots instead of his perfect ass and his massive shoulders under the cobalt-and-black plaid of his shirt. The tails of his shirt fell just past his belt. Stupid impressive shoulders.

  The bustle of children and the scent of sweet syrup and butter hit her on the last step.

  “Hi!”

  Shane stopped at the doorway, his entire body tense with apprehension. “Hello.”

  Kendall peeked around Shane to see the towheaded little boy grinning up at him minus a front tooth. She slid her hand along his lower back, and Shane automatically hooked his arm around her neck. She was pretty sure she had to look like a guppy when he dropped a kiss on her forehead and gave the little boy a raised brow.

  The boy transferred his attention to her. “Wow, why do you have old-lady hair? You’re just a girl.”

  She laughed and dropped down on one knee. “C’mon, it’s white like Storm from X-Men.”

  The kid giggled. “What’re the X-Men?”

  Kendall let her chin fall on her chest. Man, when did she get old? Shane snickered behind her, and she kicked him in the shin. “Comic books and cartoons.”

  “Oh.” The kid shrugged.

  “Thomas!”

  “Gotta go. Pancakes are ready!”

  Kendall looked up at Shane. His lips twitched. “Oh, be quiet.” She lifted her hand to her hair. Time to put some more blonde in when she got home. She knew her roots were coming in, but she hadn’t realized it was that bad. She stood and followed the voices into the dining room.

  A pitcher of juice sat in the center with a bowl of eggs, sausage, and a platter of pancakes.

  Delinda set a pitcher of juice on the table. “Come on in, you two. Eat.”

  “Oh, we couldn’t,” Kendall said.

  “As you can see, I made enough for my horde and you two.”

  Shane held a chair out for Kendall and sat next to her. She took a pancake and eggs for herself and watched Shane demolish a plate of pancakes. He and the boys seemed to be in a contest. The giggles and scrape of silverware were homey sounds that she’d missed terribly.