by Tara Sheets
“Won’t I be the fifth wheel?” Kat asked. “You sure you guys don’t want to just have a couples’ night?”
“Hells no,” Juliette said. “First of all, you won’t be a fifth wheel because you’re bringing Hank. Second of all, we have movie night all the time, and it’s totally casual. Emma insists that you come, and I agree one hundred percent. Besides, she usually makes a double batch of cupcakes, and if you don’t come, I’m going to be forced to eat most of them myself.”
“And that would be a problem because . . . ?”
“Good point,” Juliette said. “But you’re still coming, and that’s final.”
Once again, Kat felt a surge of warmth and gratitude for her friend. Something about the way Juliette and her cousin Emma included her into their circle of friends made Kat begin to hope. She’d never really felt like she belonged anywhere, but maybe this time . . . maybe for the first time, Kat would find a place she could truly call home.
After saying good-bye, she hung up and paced her apartment. Funny how just one phone call from Juliette had lifted her spirits and now she was filled with restless energy. She checked the time on her phone. It was past nine o’clock and the sun had already gone down, but she suddenly wanted to go outside. Breathe in the lavender-scented air. Stare up at the moon.
Kat stepped outside and quietly shut her apartment door, then headed down the steps and across the lawn toward the little barn. It was so dark, she used the flashlight on her phone to help navigate over the uneven ground. The heady scent of roses filled the night air, but the tangled bushes were cloaked in shadows, the red blooms invisible in the darkness.
When she reached the barn, she switched on the single light near the entrance. The chickens barely stirred, contentedly tucked away in their coop. But Waffles stuck his head around the stall to see who was visiting.
As soon as he saw Kat, he trotted over, butting his head against her. “I’m happy to see you, too,” she said, scratching him between the ears.
She led him out of the gated paddock, across the yard with Hank following, and into a large, overgrown field. The donkey was happier than he’d been in a long time. Kat could feel it. He liked being with her. She made a mental note to find him a friend and to take him on more walks around the farm. Maybe she’d even find a way to move his stall to the larger field, so he could run around freely.
They wandered through the tall grass, in no particular direction. Kat shut off her phone and tilted her face up to the sky, taking in the countless stars overhead. The fresh scent of lavender wafted on the night air, melding with the rich scents of damp earth and the slightest hint of wood smoke. She glanced around, trying to find the source.
Beyond the field, near a small copse of trees, she could see a glowing fire. Like moths toward a flame, Kat and the animals wandered closer.
At the fence, Kat ducked through a slat and started forward. Hank let out a yip of disapproval, and Kat glanced down at her dog. He was staring at the donkey, wagging his tail.
“You’ll have to wait with Waffles,” she said. “He can’t fit through the fence.”
Hank trotted back under the fence and nosed around in the grass beside the donkey.
“I’ll be back soon.”
She made her way toward the small firepit. A long bench made from a fallen log sat in front of it. The fire glowed invitingly, and she crossed her arms, hugging herself. Closing her eyes, she let the warmth seep into her skin. It was blissful. Suddenly, everything she’d been worrying about seemed to slip away, and all seemed right with the world. Maybe if she stood there long enough, she’d start believing it.
* * *
Jordan opened the kitchen fridge, searching for the six-pack of beer he’d forgotten to take outside. After spending half the day dealing with the junk in the abandoned barn, and the other half making phone calls to line up help in the fields, he was in the mood for something easy. The campfire he’d started out back was waiting for him, and he intended to enjoy it with no distractions. Just like old times, he thought bitterly. No one around. Nobody to tell him what to do. Nobody to care.
“There you are, honey,” his grandmother said, coming into the kitchen. The surprise of seeing her diminutive form, her thinning white hair, still hadn’t worn off. She was so much older than he remembered. When he’d first arrived back on Pine Cove Island, he’d been shocked to realize just how much time had passed. Ever since he’d left for college on the East Coast, he’d never returned. In his memory, the place was exactly as he’d left it, and the people were the same. Now, looking at his grandmother, it was disconcerting to realize how much older she was.
He hadn’t seen his grandparents very often when he was growing up. His own parents had a shaky relationship with them, so Jordan only saw them once in a while. But he remembered how kind his grandparents had been. They always seemed to remember the important things.
“I have something special, just for you.” She headed toward the cupboard. He noticed she was favoring her leg a little more than usual. Some days she seemed okay, but he knew she struggled with a stiff hip and swollen joints.
“Grandma, how’s your arthritis?”
“Same as it always is,” she said over her shoulder. “Finicky. Has a mind of its own and sometimes it insists on taking the lead, but I won’t give in that easily.”
Jordan set the six-pack on the kitchen counter and watched her rummage through the cupboard. No, she wasn’t the type to give up easily, which was one of the things he appreciated about her. He imagined he got his determination and drive from her. She was nothing like his parents.
“Here we go.” She pulled out a paper bag. Her grin turned her face into a map of wrinkles, her pale blue eyes alight with happiness.
Jordan took the bag and peered inside. His chest tightened. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did. I would never forget something so important. But I’m not going to make it out to the campfire this time, I’m afraid. My hip isn’t up for that kind of a trek any longer. You’ll have to go without me.”
Jordan nodded, overcome with a bittersweet longing for days gone by. Years ago, his grandparents had started a tradition with him, and now that his grandfather was gone, Opal was carrying it on.
He suddenly wanted to hug her, which was crazy. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. Instead he patted her arm awkwardly. “Thanks, Grandma.”
She laid a frail hand on his. “You know your grandfather and I were always so proud of you. We always wished to see you more. If your parents hadn’t been so stubborn about living the way they did . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she wiped the corner of one eye with her hand.
Jordan patted her arm, then stepped back. He thanked her again, grabbed his six-pack and the brown paper bag, and set off toward the campfire. Now, more than ever, he just wanted to be alone. There was no use reminiscing about the past and what could’ve been. He’d learned that a long time ago.
He crossed the clearing in the far field and made his way toward the glowing campfire. Nearing the circle of warmth, he stopped and stared.
As though she’d been conjured from firelight, Kat stood in the center of the circle. Eyes closed. Face tilted toward the stars. Lips parted in pleasure. Arms outstretched, palms to the fire. She looked like a nature goddess, with her red hair swirling softly around her face.
Damn. Jordan’s gut clenched. She was the kind of beautiful that could drive a man crazy. Good thing he’d had a lifetime of experience dealing with crazy, and he knew how to steel himself against it.
Jordan walked toward her until he was so close he could reach out an arm and touch her. Not that he would.
Kat opened her eyes and let out a startled gasp. She stumbled backward until the back of her knees hit the fallen log, and she sat down hard. “You scared me,” she said in accusation.
Jordan set the beer and paper bag on the ground and stared down at her. “I’d apologize,” he said. “But I’m not the one intruding.” He sounded har
sh, but he couldn’t stop himself. Why was he always so confrontational around her? Maybe because it was easier to keep her at arm’s length. She was the kind of woman a man could lose himself in, and that’s the last thing he needed.
Kat tried to smooth her wild hair with both hands, but it was no use. The mop of curls sprang back as soon as she let go, surrounding her like a fiery halo. Jordan had the sudden urge to reach out and touch it. Instead he turned away and unhooked a can of beer from the six-pack.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
He sat on the ground with his back against the log. “Thinking.” Without looking at her, he unhooked another can of beer and held it out.
She took it and sat on the fallen log. “I like the way you think.”
They sat in silence for a while before he said, “What are you doing out here?”
“Taking Hank and Waffles for a walk.”
As if she’d planned it, Hank trotted up to the campfire with Waffles trailing behind. The donkey took one look at Jordan and stayed just out of the circle of light.
“How did you guys get out of the paddock?” Kat asked her dog.
Hank touched his nose to her hand, then went over to investigate Jordan’s shoe.
Jordan watched the tiny dog tug at his shoelace. “The latch on the fence is broken,” he said, taking another swig of beer. “Do you always bring your four-legged friends with you on midnight strolls?”
Kat scoffed. “It’s hardly midnight. And yes, as a matter of fact. I do take my animals with me wherever I can. I find their company to be a lot more pleasing than the alternative.”
Jordan searched the shadows behind Kat. “Your donkey friend doesn’t seem very pleased.”
“He’s scared of you because he thinks you don’t care about him.”
Jordan frowned. “I don’t . . . not care about him. I never actually think about him that much.”
Kat shook her head in resignation. “Apathy. That’s even worse.”
Jordan’s lips twitched. She had the oddest way of simultaneously annoying and amusing him. “He’s a donkey. What am I supposed to do? Read him bedtime stories and tie ribbons in his hair?”
She seemed to consider it for a moment. “I don’t think he’d care about ribbons, but he’d be open to bedtime stories.”
Jordan shook his head. “You’re very—”
“Weird?” Kat slid off the log and sat cross-legged beside him, staring up at the stars. “I know. I also don’t care. I’ve spent far too many years of my life caring about what other people think. This time, I’m just going to be me.” She took another sip of her beer.
“I was going to say you’re very imaginative.” Jordan regarded her thoughtfully. The firelight cast a warm glow over her heart-shaped face, accentuating her high cheekbones and the sweet curve of her lips. She was like some beautiful mystery he very much wanted to solve. “What do you mean, ‘this time’ you’re going to be yourself? When weren’t you?”
Kat stared into the flames.
Jordan didn’t press her. Instead he lifted a long, slender stick and pulled out a pocketknife. With slow, methodical strokes he began stripping the bark from the stick.
“What are you doing?” Kat asked.
“Something very important.” He focused on the stick. “It’s a tradition I started back when I was a kid. I could tell you . . .” He lifted the stick, considering it at all angles, then began scraping more bark. “Or I could just stare mysteriously into the fire. I haven’t decided yet.”
“I’m not trying to be mysterious,” she said.
“And yet, I am mystified.” He kept scraping the bark from the stick, not making eye contact.
“It’s not all that interesting,” she insisted.
Jordan felt a surge of triumph. “Tell me anyway.”
“My life back in L.A. was a lot different. It was noisier, and there was always something going on.” She paused. “And I had a boyfriend.”
He studied the stick and continued scraping.
“I had a boyfriend,” she repeated, “who was all wrong for me. He was really into partying, and he had lots of friends and connections. So we were always obligated to go places. Fancy places that required all sorts of preparation.”
Jordan frowned. “What kind of preparation?”
“The kind you need for the L.A. party scene. You always had to worry about what to wear. What to say. What not to say. Where’s the hottest place to be seen. And it all changed so fast. It was mercurial. One second you could be cooler than an iceberg in Alaska, and the next”—she snapped her fingers—“no one wants to know you.” She took another sip of beer. “After a while I just went through the motions and forgot who I really was. I just got swept into this crowd I didn’t even particularly like, and that became my life.”
“Until . . . ?” He wondered what it took to bring her from that lifestyle to this one. It was a big change.
She set her beer down and held her hands toward the fire. “Until one day, I was supposed to go to this fancy event, so I borrowed a dress from one of my friends. The night of the party, we were getting ready to leave, and he found out it was borrowed. So he got mad and said I would embarrass him if I wore recycled clothing to a photographed event. And I said I didn’t care. And then we argued.” She acted like it was no big deal. But Jordan could tell it was a memory she didn’t want to think about. He had a lot of those.
“He told me to go change, but something snapped inside me. I refused. And then he said he’d be better off going without me. And that was it.”
“So then you left him,” Jordan said conversationally, trying to keep his tone light, for her sake. “But not before grabbing him by the throat and choking him with his own bow tie.”
Kat gave a weak smile.
“So what happened?” Jordan asked.
“Timing was on my side,” she said. “I’d just got offered a summer job on a houseboat reality show, taking care of that little guy.” She pointed a finger at Hank, who was now sniffing at the brown paper bag. “So I took the job and never looked back. A woman on the show used Hank as an arm charm, but she didn’t really care about him. When my job ended, so did her interest in Hank, so I took him with me.”
Hank heard his name and zipped over to Kat, wagging his tail.
She picked him up and snuggled him close, staring into the fire.
“And that’s when you decided to stay here?” Jordan asked.
“I thought this was as good a place as any to start over. And I’d been wanting to leave the L.A. scene behind for a long time; I just didn’t have the opportunity, I guess.”
Jordan waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. “It sounds like you did the right thing,” he said quietly. “For yourself, and for Hank.”
The way she looked at him with the firelight glancing off her brilliant hair, highlighting her delicate heart-shaped face—she was so damn alluring, any man would be an idiot to let her go. Her ex-boyfriend was a fool.
A snuffling grunt came from behind Kat’s right shoulder. The donkey had grown a little bolder, moving closer to Kat.
“Waffles, Jordan wants to be your friend,” Kat said. “Don’t you want to come and say hello?”
The donkey brayed and trotted away.
She turned back to Jordan. “I guess he’s being cautious. You should make the first move. Next time, give him a treat.”
Jordan gave her a dubious look. “I’m not in the habit of carrying treats around for barn animals.”
“Maybe you should try it,” Kat said.
He finished whittling the stick and set it beside him.
“So?” Kat asked. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing with that stick?”
Jordan opened the paper bag his grandmother had given him, then pulled out a bag of marshmallows and opened it.
* * *
Kat’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me.”
Jordan speared two marshmallows on the end of the stick, then leaned
forward and held them over the fire.
“You’re roasting marshmallows out here, by yourself,” Kat said, incredulous. It was the type of thing a person did at summer camp. With a group of friends. When you were twelve.
“I’m not by myself.” Jordan glanced sideways at her. “You’re here. And so are two of your closest friends.”
Jordan handed her the stick, then pulled out a package of graham crackers and a bar of chocolate.
“Oh, what?” Kat blurted. “You’re making s’mores now?” She couldn’t believe it. What guy did that by himself? No guy she ever knew.
“You don’t have to have one, if you don’t want one,” he said, pulling out a graham cracker and breaking off a piece of chocolate.
She looked at him like he was crazy. “Of course I want one. But this is just so weird.”
“Not any weirder than talking to wild crows,” he said pointedly.
Heat crept up the back of her neck. He had a point, but still. “I don’t know a single person who builds a campfire and makes s’mores by themselves. It just doesn’t seem right.”
He gave her a level stare. “S’mores are always right.” Then he scooped melted marshmallow onto a graham cracker square, added chocolate, and handed it to her.
She took it mechanically, staring at him. “Shouldn’t you be doing this with sleeping bags and friends and singing ‘Kumbaya,’ or something?”
“I wasn’t planning on spending the night out here.” He paused and gave her a sideways look that sent a shiver of excitement through her. In the firelight, his eyes were more golden than ever, reminding her of a wolf. The thin, silvery scar on his cheek just added to the wildness. “But if you really want to, I could go grab camping gear and get my guitar.”
“You play the guitar?” A ripple of pleasure washed over her at the idea of him strumming away in front of the fire. She shoved it aside, focusing instead on another bite of chocolatey melted marshmallow heaven. Sure, the whole scenario tonight was a little surprising, but so what? Nothing special about a guy who played guitar and roasted marshmallows over secret campfires. Nothing sexy, either. Nope.
“I do,” he admitted. “But it’s been a while.”