The One

by Kristin Vayden

  “I know,” Kirby added.

  “Now that my work is done, I’ll leave you two to enjoy your meal. Dinna forget to do yer dishes. I know the boss is a hard ass and will fire me if there’s a dish left in the sink.” He shook his head.

  “He’ll fire yer ass for being a pain in his.”

  “Threats… empty threats.” William winked at me, took off his apron and grabbed his hat from the rack on the wall. “I’ll lock ye in.” He flipped the sign closed, exited through the front door and locked it. With a final salute, he walked away into the darkness.

  “Eat yer haggis, ’tis bad when cold.” Kirby pointed to my plate with his fork.

  “I hate that you were right.” But I took another bite, loving how my stomach was growing fuller and fuller by the minute. I hated being hungry.

  “Think of it as simply expanding your education.” He gestured broadly with his arm.

  “Or I can just give credit to William,” I said after I swallowed.

  “That too. But I’ll still take credit.”

  “You would.”

  We finished our haggis, and Kirby stood and collected the plates. “I’ll wash, you dry.”

  “If I must.” I sighed.

  “It’s the least you can do after I bought yer supper.”

  “So you’re saying that if I pay you, I won’t have to do dishes?” I badgered, following him back into the kitchen.

  “I’m saying if you are a brat then I’ll leave you to do the dishes alone.”

  “Threats. Empty threats,” I teased.

  Kirby turned on the water, and grabbed the hand sprayer, cleaning off the last of the haggis.

  “You do know that while there was no sheep’s bladder in the haggis, there was liver, kidney, and heart. Right?” He asked calmly, handing me the clean dish.

  “Say what?” I asked, pausing mid wipe with the towel.

  “All William said was that there was no bladder. And truthfully, it’s quite easy to omit the bladder, since the bladder is what you cook it in — rather that’s the traditional way to cook it.” He handed me other dish.

  “I ate liver and heart… and what else?”

  “Kidney.”

  “Oh.” I wiped again.

  “Ach, Merry. Where’s your sense of adventure?” A stray spray of water smacked me on the cheek.

  “Kirby…” I warned, glaring.

  “Honest, that was not intentional.” He held up both hands, one with the sprayer. “But this is.” He squeezed the handle and I ducked, but not soon enough. Warm water saturated my head and started dripping down my shirt.

  “Kirby!” I shouted, then reached for the water handle to turn it off, but he blocked my attempt, spraying me directly down the back.

  “That’s it!” I shouted and lunged for him, not caring the sprayer was aimed at my face.

  “Shit.” Kirby squeezed the handle again but it was too late. My palm covered the nozzle, and the water flowed around my hand and trailed water down his shirt, and pants even as I wrestled him for control. Water sprayed in all directions from my hand blocking it. As Kirby tried to get away, I jumped, wrapping my legs around him, holding on to his neck with one arm while the other hand held the sprayer.

  “Merry!” He shouted as the water continued to flow, soaking him through, and me in the process. “Fine!” Kirby yelled and reached out, turning the water on full cold, and squeezing the spray handle as it continued to soak us both.

  “That’s freezing!” I gasped, letting go of my viselike grip on the nozzle and darting to the sink. My cold and wet hands slipped so I wasn’t able to turn the knob well. Before it was completely shut off, Kirby’s arm snaked about my waist and hauled me back.

  “Like hell you will!” I kicked my legs, fuming as his laughter echoed in the sterile kitchen. Then, he wasn’t laughing, rather he was swearing like a sailor as his feet started to slip on the wet tile.

  “Don’t you take me with—” We crumpled into a heap just in front of the sink.

  “You broke my legs, lass,” Kirby groaned.

  “You’re fine. My ass is going to be black and blue tomorrow from landing on your knees. Seriously?” I moaned as I slightly adjusted my position.

  “At least you had something to break yer fall,” Kirby groaned.

  I glared. “Yeah, and your knees are so much softer than the hard ground…”

  “You have more padding.” He arched a brow, challenging me.

  “You did not just—”

  “I did.”

  I stared him down.

  “Are you going to try and kill me with that glare or do you have something to say?” He leaned forward, taunting me.

  I couldn’t back down… it would mean he won.

  And he could never win.

  Ever.

  But I couldn’t think of any sort of comeback that wasn’t completely lame.

  Damn.

  “It’s okay, Merry. I didn’t actually expect an intelligent response.” He shrugged.

  That. Was. It.

  I stood, found my footing, and grabbed the discarded nozzle. Kirby was slow getting up and even as he shouted a warning, I turned the water on cold and sprayed him once more. “I’m more of a actions speak louder than words girl.”

  “And here I thought you were all talk, no balls.”

  “That’s you.” I shrugged and turned off the water. “And I think that about sums it up.

  Kirby wiped his hand down his face, shaking off the excess water, then slicked back his dark hair away from his eyes. There was no way I could ignore the way his blue eyes sparkled, or the way his long-sleeved Henley clung to his torso, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

  Damn, he looked good wet.

  Down girl.

  I took a deep breath, pried my gaze away, then tried to give an easy shrug as I set the nozzle back in the sink.

  When really, all I could do was think about how the water had somehow magnified his cologne.

  “Merry.”

  How? I hated that nickname, yet when he said it… somehow I didn’t hate it as much.

  He made me like it… want it.

  Want to hear him say it.

  Over and over and over again.

  I didn’t turn around. I didn’t trust myself to.

  “Merry,” his voice was closer.

  My body was finally registering the cold, and when mixed with the charged atmosphere of the kitchen, had me starting to shiver. A warm hand reached around my waist, pulled me back gently. For a moment Kirby’s soaked shirt felt freezing against mine, then the cold evaporated into an inviting heat. His other arm reached around my waist as well, holding me tightly as he rested his chin on my shoulder. If I closed my eyes, I could feel each breath he took, every shift of his body.

  And even though ten seconds ago I was freezing… I was now on fire.

  “Merry.” He caressed my name with his voice. His nose traced the line from my neck to my shoulder and back, his warm breath teasing me.

  I leaned into him.

  He nipped my neck. “You’re freezing,”

  No, I’m actually burning alive right now… thanks to you. “Hmm?” Was all the response I was capable of.

  “Come with me.” He released my waist, grasping one of my hands in the process, and tugged me toward the back of the kitchen.

  Silently I followed, mentally tracing the outline of his body through his soaked clothes. His dark denim jeans clung to his legs and outlined every sculpted line of his body.

  I bit my lip and forced my gaze away.

  We reached a door at the end of the kitchen and he opened it. The hinges creaked as it opened, and displayed a narrow wooden staircase. Kirby tugged my hand as he started up, and I followed, curious. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a flat. Usually I have it rented out, but it’s vacant at the moment. Thankfully, it’s partially furnished and has a washer and dryer.” He shrugged as he cast a glance back to me.

  “Oh, I guess that
would make sense.” The bar was located on the bottom floor of a building, and I hadn’t really given thought to what was above it, but now I knew.

  “So, are there clothes up there too?” I asked, as the full implication of what a washer and dryer meant registered. I mean, if my clothes were in the dryer… that meant they were not on me…

  “Shy are we?”

  “You’re not getting laid.”

  Kirby barked laughter. “Wasn’t planning on it.” He took the last step. “At least by you.”

  I glared.

  The landing ended in a short hallway with one door before it started up into another flight of stairs. Kirby stopped in front of the door and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. The door unlocked with a small click. Damp and chilly air flowed through the doorway, causing me to shiver just before Kirby hit the lights. My hand, snuggly tucked in his, was the only part of me that was warm, and I bit my lip trying to keep back another shiver.

  “Give me a moment.“ Kirby released my hand, and immediately I missed the small amount of heat it offered. He knelt before a brick fireplace and started to crumple up newspaper. “’Twill be faster to light a fire than to turn on the heat. I ken yer chilly, Merry so why don’t you find yerself a blanket and change out of the wet clothes. There’s a water closet to the right.” He turned slightly and nodded toward a door.

  “Got it.” I padded to a closet and searched for a blanket. I had to jump for it, but I finally pulled one from the top shelf. The old quilt promised much more warmth than my wet clothes, and I shivered my way to the bathroom Kirby had pointed out.

  I flipped on the switch and slowly checked the sink for anything that crawled then exhaled a sigh of relief when it was empty.

  I hated spiders.

  Bugs.

  Anything with more than four legs.

  Just realizing I was holding an old quilt, I decided it would be wiser to shake it out now, rather than discover a spider crawling out of it when I was buck-naked.

  Thankfully, nothing fell to the floor but a piece of lint, and I set the quilt over the toilet while I undressed. My jeans stuck to me, refusing to leave my legs until I finally wrenched my feet free.

  “You okay in there?” Kirby’s voice startled me from the other side of the door.

  “Yeah, just fighting a losing battle with my jeans,” I shot back.

  “That would explain the growling.”

  “Shut up.”

  “The faster you undress the faster you can sit in front of the fire,” he taunted.

  “Believe me, I’m going as fast as I can.”

  “If that’s what you call fast…”

  As I heard his footsteps retreat, I blew out an exasperated breath. Stripping my shirt off, I debated whether to keep my bra on or not. I wasn’t particularly endowed so all my bras had padding, which simply acted like a sponge in the water fight. But I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of being completely naked around Kirby… talk about an invitation for disaster.

  A trickle of water dripped from my padded bra and down my stomach, making me shiver.

  Screw it. I was stripping completely naked.

  The air felt warm as I shed the last of my clothes. Wrapping myself in the old quilt, I glanced in the mirror and groaned.

  Waterproof mascara my ass.

  I blew a stray hair from my eyes and glanced around for a towel and soap. As I scanned the room, all I could find was my wet clothes and a shower curtain.

  Not promising.

  I peeked behind the curtain — just in case a spider was lurking in the tub — and sighed in relief when I saw a small bar of soap. I swept the rest of the shower curtain to the side and leaned forward.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw something fall from the curtain and land with a thud into the tub. Leaping back, I screamed and slammed my back into the bathroom door. A large brown spider flipped from his back and started racing up the side of the tub.

  “Like hell you are.” I swore and searched for my shoe. When I found it, I bent down only to have Kirby barge into the room and in the process smack my ass with the door, sending me face first toward the advancing spider.

  “Shit.”

  “Kill it!” I scrambled to my feet, ducking behind Kirby.

  “That?” Kirby pointed to the spider that now seemed much smaller than I originally thought.

  “It shrunk, kill it!”

  He shook his head, walked over to the spider and smashed it with his thumb.

  “Gross.”

  His eyebrows rose, then he grinned.

  “No.”

  “’Tis nothing but a wee spider, a dead one at that.” He shrugged but I knew what he was thinking — what he was planning. That twinkle in his eye couldn’t lie, and I started to back away.

  “Take a peek.” He took a step toward me.

  “Bite me.”

  “Where?” His gaze raked over me and I glanced to the floor where my old quilt lay in a heap, then to my naked toes and upward.

  “Shit. Close your eyes!” I wrapped my arms around myself — as if that helped.

  “It’s not like I haven’t seen your bare arse before.” Kirby grinned wolfishly, but thankfully walked to the sink and washed the spider off his thumb and down the drain.

  I grabbed the quilt.

  He stepped on it.

  “Do you mind?” I narrowed my eyes as I tugged on the blanket with one hand while my other covered the girls.

  “Terribly.”

  I tugged harder.

  “Say please.” He raised his dark brows, a teasing smile spreading across his face.

  Damn it if his dimples didn’t wink at me.

  Good Lord.

  I gritted my teeth, in anger and a now familiar frustration. “Please.”

  He lifted his foot.

  I swept the blanket around myself, huffed, and turned around to walk toward the fire.

  “Why do you still have your clothes on anyway?” I asked as I sat in front of the fire. Its crackling heat warmed the quilt.

  “Is that all the game you’ve got?” Kirby chuckled.

  “You know what I mean, and it’s not that.” I rolled my eyes.

  “If you must know, I was building a fire and then went back downstairs to get a few things. I opened the door to your scream. You haven’t said thank you yet, by the way.”

  The sound of wet clothes hitting the floor struck me. “Thank you.” I cleared my throat, trying not to think about what was happening behind me.

  I wanted to peek. Really bad.

  But I didn’t.

  “What were you getting downstairs?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the rasp of a zipper and the whisper of jeans sliding off his body.

  Damn, I was getting hot. I shifted so the blanket slid off a shoulder slightly, allowing the cool air to calm me a bit.

  But not nearly enough.

  “I figured we can’t exactly go anywhere till our clothes are dry. Don’t want to spend the night in the clink for being indecent.” Footsteps sounded from behind me heading toward the bathroom.

  “Man has a point.”

  “Indeed.” He chuckled.

  “Not what I meant,” I groaned, my face heating.

  “I’m tossing your clothes in the dryer. You can say thank you now.”

  “Thank you, Kirby,” I said in a nasal tone.

  “You always had such a pretty voice,” he remarked dryly.

  “I know. So, you never finished what you were saying. What did you bring up?”

  The dryer knob clicked as he turned it, and soon the whirling of the heated air started up, drowning out the soothing crackle of the fire.

  “Cards, whisky, water, and snacks.”

  “Yay! That’s great—” I turned to glance at him, but rather than finish my sentence I almost swallowed my tongue.

  Kirby was wearing nothing but a smile.

  “Good Lord.”

  “They all say that.” He shrugged and walked over to the closet with t
he quilts, as if walking around buck-naked was completely normal.

  I couldn’t glance away, I couldn’t even blink. How did — I mean — whoa. His broad shoulders and trim waist formed a perfect ‘V’. His muscle-lined back flexed as he reached and grabbed a quilt from the top shelf. As he rose up on his toes, both his legs and his butt clenched and my mouth went dry.

  “You know, I dinna stare like you are.”

  “Sorry,” I whispered, trying to swallow as I tore my gaze away from him and back to the fire.

  “I dinna mind, but you were kind of making this choking noise so I got concerned,” he said as he took a spot next to me by the fire, his own quilt wrapped around his body, but less tightly than mine.

  “Was not.” I refused to make eye contact, concentrating instead on the orange flames.

  When he didn’t reply, I glanced to him. “Whatever you say, Merry.” He grinned as if harboring some secret and turned to the fire. “What do you want to do first? Are you still hungry or do you want to lose at cards?”

  “Neither. But I’ll kick your ass in gin rummy.”

  “You never once kicked my ass in gin rummy.” Kirby rolled his eyes.

  “And how long ago was that?”

  “A while, but that means I have to give credence to the idea that you’ve improved. This I doubt.”

  “Bring it.” I let go of the quilt with one hand and wiggled my fingers tauntingly.

  “Your funeral.”

  “Yours Kirby, yours.” I smiled sweetly then followed as he stood up and walked toward a small table with two chairs.

  “At least there’s some furniture.”

  “Better than nothing at all.” He grabbed a deck of cards from a basket and sat at the table across from me. “You want to shuffle?”

  I debated. To say I was competitive was an understatement and my shuffling would give away how much I had improved at cards in general.

  “You.” I shrugged slightly, trying to look like I didn’t care. Element of surprise, baby!

  “Verra well.” Kirby cut the deck, spread out the cards and then picked them up again.

  “That’s the best you can do?” I asked, watching in confusion as he spread out the cards once more on the table, mixed them up and then collected them.

  “It works. Dinna shoot my methodology. You dinna want to shuffle, so shut it.”