Gifts

by Brynne Asher

  I throw my stuff in my bag, relieved the day is over. Levi has practice, so I’m stuck waiting for Dad to pick me up. Not that he’s ever late, he’s always on time. But his constant questions make my head spin—I’m sure it’ll be off the charts after yesterday.

  I thought living with him would be cool. He’s always been chill and low-key, but there’s nothing laid-back about him now. I’m not looking forward to time alone with him in the car. And worse, he informed Levi and me this morning that we’re going over to Ms. Lockhart’s for dinner.

  She’s nice and pretty, so I guess I should be happy for my dad. As far as I know, he’s always been alone. This still doesn’t make me want to go to her house for dinner. I’m dreading it like finals week.

  “You okay, Emma?” I look up and realize everyone’s left the class but me, and Mrs. Trudeau is looking at me from the front of the room.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I mutter and grab my bag to leave. Just when I wasn’t in a hurry, now I am because I have no desire to talk with anyone, let alone my teachers. They all look at me different lately, and I know it’s my grades. I used to be a straight-A student, but trying to focus now is a monumental task that’s become impossible.

  I walk down the hall and there are some stragglers, but it’s mostly cleared out for the day. When I get to my locker, I flip the combination so I can get what I need for the night—not that I have the energy to study. I don’t have the energy for anything lately.

  When I reach for my books, there’s a stray piece of paper laying on top. I pick it up, wondering if it might have fallen from a folder, but that’s impossible since I carry everything with me.

  When I unfold it, my heart races and I’m frozen in my spot. Standing here, staring at the piece of white paper, there are three sentences typed in plain, boring Times New Roman:

  IN CASE YOU WERE GETTING ANY BRIGHT IDEAS, YESTERDAY PROVES WE CAN FUCK WITH YOUR FAMILY. NEXT TIME WE’LL FINISH WHAT WE START. WE’RE WATCHING YOU.

  Oh, shit.

  *****

  Keelie

  If I wasn’t so busy I might be nervous, but after hitting the store and tackling the kids’ homework, there hasn’t been time for my nerves to explode into fireworks. We didn’t even get to Saylor’s reading time, she kept putting it off and I’ve had enough to do. She hates sitting long enough to read for just fifteen minutes and we’re in the last quarter of the year. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.

  But the second I hear new voices ring through the house, my nerves ignite like a tiny sparkler. Saylor comes skipping in first, followed by Knox and a very unhappy Emma with her backpack slung over her shoulder.

  Emma gives me a forced smile. “Hey, Miz Lockhart.”

  I don’t have a chance to respond, because Saylor announces, “I’m gonna show her my room, then Knox’s room, then the playroom, then we’re gonna play with the goats.”

  I look down at my bossy daughter. “Baby, you need to let Emma do what she wants to do. She might have homework or want time to herself.”

  “It’s okay,” Emma adds.

  “See?” Saylor gives me her big eyes telling me she’s right. She thinks she’s always right.

  “You just don’t want to read,” Knox points out, sticking it to his sister, and he’s right.

  I sigh and wonder if my daughter will be the one to scare off Asa and his kids. “Fine, but after dinner you need to leave her alone if she has to study.”

  Emma drops her bag in the family room and follows my kids up the stairs as I hear the door to the garage. And the sparkler sizzling in my belly explodes into a burst of fireworks worthy of Independence Day from having Asa Hollingsworth in my space.

  His eyes are on me and their intensity says more than thanks for the dinner invite. I’m not familiar with his eye-speak yet, but I think they’re saying he wants to press me up against things and teach me about encrypted apps. I should welcome him, ask what’s in the enormous box he’s carrying, or give him the pick of all Saylor’s goats to ensure he comes back every day, but I don’t have the chance to do any of this.

  He plops the box down on my island and announces, “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you a case.”

  I feel my face crinkle in confusion at the same time I note he’s wearing another pair of old jeans with a t-shirt sporting the logo from the last winter Olympics. He looks so comfortable in his clothes, I could curl into him and take a nap. “A case of what?”

  He doesn’t answer, but he proves I was right by moving around the island, and his intent is obvious. I see him look around quickly as he takes my hand and the next thing I know, he’s pulling me into the pantry, shutting us inside. The motion light flickers on the moment his lips touch mine. Just like last night, his tongue delves into my mouth and he tastes of mint and a man capable of changing tires. Fresh excitement stirs inside me, causing me to press into him. His soft beard scratches my face reminding me I’m alive. I’m in a flux of emotions that are nothing short of exhilaration laced with anxiety.

  All this, coupled with his big, warm hand sneaking up into the back of my shirt creating tingles on my bare skin, is too much. When he pulls his lips from mine, I’m left wanting more. How can his kiss be too much and not enough at the same time?

  He looks over my head and frowns. “Where are we?”

  My hands flex on his chest, but I make no move to leave his arms. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you have two kitchens?” He looks around but doesn’t let go. His fingers trail up and down my back, teasing my bra strap, making me wonder what he’s going to do next.

  I can barely focus on our conversation as I wonder if he’s going to pop my bra. “It’s just the pantry.”

  He looks down at me. “Where’s the food?”

  I give my head a little shake because I don’t understand why he’s so confused. “In the cabinets. Where else would it be?”

  “Keelie.” He gives me a squeeze. “I’m not sure what I expected since the outside of your house is torn to shit and you have a million goats, but you have a microwave, coffee maker, a,” he pauses and cranes his neck to the side before he smirks, “wine refrigerator that’s stocked full of juice boxes, and all kinds of other fancy shit. This looks like another kitchen with as many cabinets as you have in here. You wanna see a pantry, come look at mine. It’s full of cereal, power bars, and protein powder.”

  “Oh.” I don’t know what to say other than he needs to branch out at the grocery store. “The main floor was gutted before we moved in. It was done before the budget went to hell.”

  He nods like he gets it, and since I’m not at all anxious to delve into my shitty past, I change the subject.

  “What did you bring me a case of?”

  His arms convulse around me. “Wine.”

  I push him away and exclaim, “Why would you bring me a case of wine?”

  His shoulder hitches. “Because I didn’t know what you liked. And since fish can swim, I figured you really like wine. I was right since you have a wine refrigerator.” He leans in to kiss me fast and reaches around to his back pocket and shoves a stack of papers in my hand. “Here, I also got you a barrel, but you can’t have it for three years. You can visit it, though. Addy said they’ll burn your name into it.”

  “A barrel? And who’s Addy?” I ask, opening the papers that are haphazardly folded. Asa leaves me standing in my pantry and I hear the clinks of bottles hitting marble.

  “My buddy’s wife,” he calls from the kitchen. “She owns Whitetail.”

  I skim the document outlining my member benefits for the Elite Barrel Membership program at Whitetail Farms Winery. From the looks of it, I get two cases of wine a year for the next three years, unlimited complimentary wine tastings, annual passes to the Harvest Celebration, Grape Stomping, Spring Blooms Celebration, and the list goes on, but I stop reading because Asa comes back in the pantry holding three bottles in each hand.

  “Move the kiddie drinks and make room for these.”


  I don’t do either. “Why would you do this?”

  He looks taken aback. “Do what?”

  “This has to be ridiculously expensive and extravagant. One bottle of wine would have been fine.”

  His head lists to the side a bit and he shrugs. “I went to get you wine, read about this, and thought you’d like it. It’s no big deal.”

  He steps toward my wine refrigerator, but I cut him off. “You have to return it, and do it fast before they burn my name into anything.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I don’t know you!” I exclaim. “Just because you’ve given me two crazy-intense kisses doesn’t mean you can do things like this. This,” I shake the papers at him, “is not what you bring someone when you come to their house for a dinner of cornflake chicken and Caesar salad. Cornflake chicken, Asa, because it’s one of the five things Saylor will actually eat without throwing a mother-fucking fit and I don’t want her to throw a fit in front of you yet. It’s gonna happen eventually, but it’s ugly, so if I can put that shit off I’m going to. I can’t accept this and feed you cornflake chicken.”

  He smirks, still holding all six bottles of wine and steps forward pinning me to the counter where the juice box refrigerator hums away at my ass. Leaning in close, he says against my lips, “When you say fuck, it makes me want to kiss you.”

  I try to push him away with the crinkled contract that basically promises me wine and all its accompanying activities for years to come. “Did I mention the Caesar salad is from a bag? All of it. Even the croutons.”

  He kisses me and continues to smirk. “We eat food from a box all the time, so a bag is no big deal.”

  I feel my body slump. “Asa, please. I can’t accept your barrel of wine.”

  “Baby,” he whispers against my lips. “The barrel doesn’t come full of wine. You get it empty. Now move your pretty little ass so I can put these bottles in the fridge for you.”

  This is ridiculous. I roll my eyes. “Oh, well, I didn’t know the barrel came empty. That makes it all better.”

  He chuckles and I move, because I could stand here all day and argue, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. I leave him to rearrange juice boxes and go straight to the island to search for my trusty wine bottle opener. I don’t even look, but grab the first bottle I come into contact with in the box. Asa exits the pantry as I’m pouring myself a glass. I have a feeling I’ll need it since he’s barely been here fifteen minutes and I’m pretty sure he’s just given me a gift worth a lot of money.

  He snakes his arm around my waist and leans down to kiss my neck when he murmurs, “I like your pantry.”

  I close my eyes to overcome the goosebumps when the doorbell rings.

  He lets me go. “That’s Levi. I’ll go let him in. Pour me a glass of that.”

  The next thing I know, Asa’s mini-me waltzes into my kitchen. “Hi, Ms. Lockhart. Dinner smells good. I’m starving.”

  “Cornflake chicken and Caesar salad,” Asa announces bringing his son up to speed. “Park yourself on the sofa to start your homework before Saylor gets wind you’re here. Once that happens, she’ll talk your ear off.”

  Levi looks between his dad and me, shaking his head. “Yeah, this isn’t weird at all.”

  Asa barks out a laugh as Levi moves to my family room.

  I take a big gulp of wine and look at the clock. It’s only six-thirteen. I guess it’s a good thing I have a case of wine to get me through the night.

  Chapter 10

  Shoveling Goat Shit

  Keelie

  “Dad, I’m heading home and Emma wants to come with me.” Asa starts to stand, but his son stops him. “We’re good. Stay if you want.”

  Asa looks conflicted. “Keep an eye on your sister and call me if you need me. I’ll make sure this fire is burned out for Keelie and be right home.”

  “Sounds good.” Levi looks to me. “Thanks for dinner, Ms. Lockhart.”

  “Thank you for putting up with Saylor. And for the tenth time, you can call me Keelie when we’re not at school.”

  Levi smirks and disappears into the house.

  It’s not even ten o’clock yet, the evening flew by. Saylor and Knox met Levi, who was as patient with them as his sister. My kids love Emma because she humors them and they love her brother just as much because he’s a human jungle gym. I had to practically tear them off Levi so we could eat dinner. When the six of us sat around my table, we learned that Asa took his kids to the last Olympics, hence the shirt. I ate in silence as my son asked two million questions about their adventure, all the while, my experience with three extra people in my house was … odd.

  Not good odd or bad odd—just plain odd.

  When it was time for Saylor to sit and read for fifteen minutes, she only threw a mild fit, and since no one went running from my property, this might mean we’re breaking Asa and his kids in slowly.

  Trial by fire, as they say.

  Levi and Emma studied and finished homework as I got my kids ready for bed. When I came downstairs, my fireworks burst into a blistering explosion. Emma was tucked under her dad’s arm sitting on my sofa while Levi was stretched out on the floor. Asa was spending time with his kids, talking about their day, making memories while doing nothing spectacular, yet still special in a way they’ll have it forever.

  I let them be, poured myself a glass of wine, grabbed a blanket, and slipped out the back door onto my patio to give them privacy.

  About twenty minutes later, I heard the door open and felt Asa brush my hair over my shoulder. When I looked up, he muttered, “It’s cold out here,” and proceeded to start me a fire.

  I could get used to this—Asa’s touches, Asa being thoughtful, watching Asa with his kids … the list seems never ending.

  This is where we’ve sat in comfortable silence, with only the fire crackling as it warms us.

  It’s time I break the quiet because it’s been nagging at my brain all night and look up to him. “What do you do?”

  He narrows his eyes on me before gazing back at the fire. “I’m used to an erratic work schedule, so it seems like I don’t work much these days since I’m doing my best to be available for my kids.”

  That doesn’t tell me anything, yet it says a lot. Who can support a family, travel around the world attending Olympic games, and buy barrels of wine when not working regularly? “What did you do that was so erratic?”

  He runs his hand through his hair and I see his lips purse before he looks to me. After many more moments, he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “I told you I’d only ever give you the truth.”

  This takes me by surprise. “I appreciate that.”

  “I used to be a cop—a long time ago. Now I help train a special unit that only contracts overseas. We work closely with our government and others.”

  I give my head a little shake. “Doing what?”

  He leans back and takes a breath, never taking his eyes off me. “Right now, I train others to work in volatile environments, dangerous terrains, and in all kinds of cultures. We train them to do things governments can’t do.”

  I still don’t understand. “You’re military?”

  He shakes his head. “Not even close.”

  I set my wine glass down on the table and glare at him through the light of the fire. “Why did you say you’d always be honest with me and now you’re being ambiguous? Either you’re honest or you’re not. I promise I’m an open-minded person, but I will not put up with dishonesty. And FYI, I consider withholding information dishonest.”

  His face softens a bit. “I get it.”

  “No,” I bite. “I don’t think you do—”

  “Keelie,” he interrupts. “I do.”

  I shift in my seat to fully face him. “I don’t like to talk about my past, but my husband was—”

  “Baby,” he halts me again by raising his voice this time. “I know.”

  He can’t possibly. There’s no way.
>
  “As a contractor, I have security clearance with the CIA,” he states.

  What the hell? “What does that have to do with anything?”

  He raises his brows. “I pulled your background a few days ago and that included the background of David Lockhart since he was your husband.”

  My heart comes to a standstill. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I’ve lost my breath. I look away and stare into the amber flames and try to focus on something—anything but Asa, but he makes that impossible as he keeps informing me about my past.

  “I know about the debt, about the trouble he had at work, and I know you’re barely holding onto this place.”

  Oh, fuck. I don’t look at him. I can’t.

  “Keelie, look at me.”

  I shake my head. I don’t know why it’s so devastating for people to learn about David’s secrets and lies, but it is. Even though it wasn’t my doing, it makes me feel weak and vulnerable all over again. I hate it and whisper, “You had no right.”

  Still not looking at him, I hear him sigh and shift closer when he lowers his voice. “Maybe.”

  My eyes shoot to him and I pin him with a glare.

  “Okay,” he amends. “I probably had no right. But when Knox told me his dad was dead, I utilized what access I had to learn about you.”

  Biting my lip, I look back to the fire and swallow over the lump in my throat.

  “I’d do it again,” he adds.

  Huffing a breath of air, I shake my head. “It’s good you’re so confident in your actions, Asa. What the hell do you do that gives you access to the ins and outs of high school counselors?”

  He doesn’t miss a beat. “I train men who are hired to take out threats against our country and our allies.”

  With that, everything comes into focus and my head jerks. He’s moved his chair so he’s facing my side and has leaned in close.

  I frown. “Take out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Kill?” I breathe.