Don't Give Me Butterflies

by Tara Sheets

  “Good . . .” Juliette eyed her suspiciously. “How are you?”

  “Great,” Kat said brightly. “I’m doing great.”

  “Uh-huh. Then why are you on your knees, hiding behind your door?”

  “Oh.” Kat scrambled to her feet. “I thought you were Jordan. I thought he might have followed me from the house.”

  “Why?” Juliette glanced back at the farmhouse. “Is he stalking you?”

  “No. Nothing like that.” Kat let out a heavy sigh. “It’s complicated.”

  Juliette nudged the door open with her shoulder.

  Kat gave up and let her in.

  “Wow, I love what you’ve done with the place,” Juliette said, plunking the box on the floor in front of the recliner. “It’s so . . . minimalist chic.”

  “I have furniture coming tomorrow,” Kat lied. “This is just temporary.” It was just a tiny white lie. Technically, in a few days she’d have a futon or something, once she picked up a few things from the local thrift store. No matter what, she didn’t want Juliette feeling sorry for her. Kat hated that. She was a grown woman who had always relied on herself, and this time was no exception. “But for now,” Kat said, gesturing grandly to the recliner chair, “would you care to have a seat on my chair-slash-bed?”

  Juliette tightened her ponytail and glanced around the room. “Really minimalist. What’s that on your table?”

  Kat glanced at the green mesh cage sitting on the table under the window. “Butterfly cocoons.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask.”

  Juliette settled on the floor, tucking her long boho skirt around her. Then she opened the box to reveal a jumble of colorful clothes and a few paperback romance novels.

  Kat joined her on the floor. “What’s all this?”

  “Last night you mentioned only having black clothes from your last gig, and that you were planning to buy more when you got paid.”

  Kat watched as Juliette pulled out a few summer sundresses and colorful tops. “So Emma and I decided you should have these for the time being.”

  Juliette held up a flowy sundress in brilliant shades of turquoise. “I think this would look gorgeous with your hair.”

  Once again, Kat felt overwhelmed by Juliette and Emma’s kindness. “You guys didn’t have to do this.” She ran a hand over the soft fabric. It was always hard for her to accept handouts from people. It usually made her feel uncomfortable. But for some reason, coming from Juliette, it was okay.

  “We wanted to,” Juliette said. “It’s no big deal. Emma and I share clothes all the time, and even though I’m taller than both of you, these stretchy dresses fit all of us. And the books are from Emma. She says they’re some of her favorites.”

  “Thank you.” As grateful as Kat was for their kindness, she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of worry. They were so eager to accept her into their family, but how could she possibly be related to them? Her mother was from L.A. Kat didn’t know much, but at least she knew that. The odds of her being related to the Holloways were slim to none, and as much as she loved being welcomed into their lives, she hated to disappoint them.

  Juliette grinned and leaned back on her hands. “So, tell me all about Mr. Mysterious.”

  Kat rubbed her face with a groan. “I’m avoiding him.”

  “Clearly,” Juliette said. “But why? Is living here that bad?”

  “No, it’s fine. The barn animals are easy to care for, Hank enjoys all the space to run around, and Opal’s been great. She’s even become a volunteer at the rescue shelter.”

  “It’s Jordan, then.” Juliette studied Kat closely. “He’s your problem.”

  “Yes,” Kat said with a sigh. She ran her hands through her hair, shaking out the mass of curls. “We got into a big argument today because I brought a pregnant cat home, and she just had kittens.”

  Juliette’s face lit up. “How sweet! I want to see them. I love cats.”

  “It’s not sweet to him.” Kat had a flashback of Jordan’s face when he pointed to Clementine. “She had kittens in his bed. And apparently, he’s allergic to cats.”

  “Psh,” Juliette said, waving a hand. “That’s an easy fix.”

  Kat wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. He’s pretty upset.”

  “No, I mean the allergies. I just made a fresh batch of herbal remedies to bring to the florist shop, and I have one specifically for allergies. They’re in my car. I’ll give you a vial for him.”

  Kat looked hopefully at Juliette. “Will it work?”

  “Of course. All my herbal potions work, but they’re even more powerful if the person has the desire for it to work. For example, if Jordan really likes the cat and wants it to stick around, the remedy will work even better. Does he like her?”

  “Not from the looks of it,” Kat said glumly. Jordan didn’t seem interested in Clementine at all. “But it could be worth a try.”

  “Is that the only reason you’re avoiding him? Because he’s unhappy about the cat having kittens in his bed?”

  “Not exactly.” Kat’s gaze slid away. She plucked at a loose thread on the hem of her T-shirt. “He annoys me other times. We sort of rub each other the wrong way, but for the most part, it’s been working out okay.”

  “So . . . ?” Juliette tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You get him to take my allergy remedy, and problem solved.”

  “The problem isn’t him; it’s me,” Kat said in resignation. “I’m the Queen of Impulsive Decisions.”

  Juliette laughed and drew her knees up, hugging herself. “Yet another reason for me to love you. We have a lot in common.”

  Kat sighed. “When I made the decision to move here, I promised myself I would stick to the plan. Make a life here that’s on my own terms. Figure out what makes me happy and not get sidetracked. . . .”

  “And you’re getting sidetracked?” Juliette asked with the barest hint of a smile.

  “All right, here’s the thing,” Kat said in a rush. “Jordan just kissed me, and I kissed him back.”

  Juliette grinned. “I’d call that sidetracked. How did that happen?”

  Kat filled her in on Clementine, and Jordan’s order not to bring any more animals home.

  “So then I told him ‘no,’” Kat said. “And then he said okay and kissed me in the broom closet. And now I’m all weirded out because, what’s up? That was not part of my plan. How am I supposed to go on like nothing happened?”

  “Well, did you like it? Did kissing him make you happy?”

  For a scant few seconds, Kat considered it. “I’m not sure ‘happy’ is the right way to describe it.” Scorching hot kisses in a dark broom closet with an enchanted prince made her feel all sorts of things. Wild. Uninhibited. Sexy as sin. “Happy” was not high on the list. But still, she felt a little giddy when she thought about it. The heat of his hands on her back as he pulled her against him. The way she’d melted into him and kissed him back, completely uninhibited. The walls could’ve crumbled down around them and she wouldn’t have noticed. Kissing Jordan Prescott had taken all her focus, and she’d liked it. Way too much.

  “If you didn’t like it, then that’s easy,” Juliette said. “All you have to do is—”

  “I never said I didn’t like it.” Kat stood and paced to the little window. “I’m just not sure what to do now.”

  “I say you go on about your own business, and just let things unfold as they will,” Juliette said, standing. “You’ve got the upper hand here. You get to decide where you want this to go.”

  “Nowhere,” Kat said firmly. “It’s not going anywhere because I’m not going to kiss him again. Besides, he’s heading back to New York as soon as possible. He’s not even planning on staying here, and I am.”

  “Okay, you aren’t going to kiss him again. So that’s that. Now all you have to do is be civil when you run into each other.”

  A memory flashed through Kat’s mind. Jordan’s teeth tugging gently at her bottom lip while his large hand slid up her thigh. Nothing
civil about that.

  Juliette took in the empty room again. “I hate to break it to you, but you’ve got bigger problems. This room has lost its will to live. You need to decorate, stat.”

  “It’s fine.” Kat leaned against the small table. “I get paid on Friday so I’m going shopping.”

  “Good,” Juliette said. “But I’m still going to help you with this”—she waved her hands in the air—“jail cell of yours.”

  “I won’t be here for long, anyway,” Kat insisted. “It’s only a month-to-month thing, so I’m not planning on doing a lot of decorating.”

  “Are you planning on doing a lot of sleep? You need a bed at the very least. Unless there’s a bed in the farmhouse you’re thinking about hijacking.” Juliette gave Kat a sly grin.

  Kat rolled her eyes. “Clementine the cat has already taken Jordan’s bed, remember?”

  “Who said anything about Jordan’s bed?” Juliette said innocently. “I was thinking they might have a spare room, but I see where your mind is going with this.”

  Kat wanted to contradict her, but everything she said was true. She was going to be thinking a lot about him, whether she wanted to or not. The big test would be whether or not she could keep him at arm’s length. The old Kat would’ve had no problem getting all wild and crazy with him, but she wasn’t going to be that person. Not anymore. This time she was going to do things on her own terms, without the distraction of someone else influencing her choices. She owed it to herself to at least try.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By Sunday evening, Kat was a tightly wound bundle of nerves. It had been over twenty-four hours since she’d seen Jordan—kissed Jordan—and she still didn’t know how she was going to pull off acting normal around him. Seriously, what had she been thinking? Kissing in a broom closet? With her landlord?

  Groaning, Kat rose from the chair and stretched to ease the tension in her neck. A hot shower was exactly what she needed to scrub all thoughts of that heated encounter from her mind. Trudging into the bathroom, she started the shower and began to undress. The small bathroom was stark and white, with a pedestal sink and shower stall barely big enough to turn around in. She adjusted the showerhead, then stepped under the warm spray with a grateful sigh.

  Okay, fine. Fact number one: Jordan Prescott was hot.

  Understatement.

  Fact number two: He was good at kissing.

  Understatement of the century.

  She scowled as she poured shampoo into her hand. None of that mattered. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to fall into any more relationships that were going nowhere. Jordan made it clear he was leaving soon, so he was just about the fastest train to nowhere on the island. And Kat knew better than to take that ride.

  She lathered the strawberry-scented shampoo into her hair, massaging her scalp to ease tension. Her last boyfriend had been like a shiny Tilt-O-Whirl at the county fair. He’d seemed like fun at first, but after a while she began questioning her choices. And by the end, all she wanted to do was hurl. They’d had nothing in common, but she’d still pretended it could work. She’d been pretty dazzled by him, but that’s the way it always was. Kat got dazzled. Kat got caught up trying to make it work. And in the end, Kat got disappointed.

  But not this time. She grit her teeth and rinsed her hair. Because fact number three: Kat was in charge. You hear that, Queen of Impulsive Decisions? This time, Kat had everything under control.

  The shower spray suddenly sputtered, and a shock of icy water hit her in the face.

  She gasped, fumbling for the showerhead. She tilted it to the wall as quickly as she could, but the old thing just slid back, spraying her with another icy blast of water.

  With a muffled shriek, Kat knocked the showerhead sideways and grabbed the nozzle to turn the water off. She pulled it down, and the whole thing popped off in her hand. Then the showerhead fell off, spraying icy water everywhere.

  Kat scrambled out of the shower, dripping water onto the floor. She yanked the shower curtain closed so water wouldn’t spray all over the bathroom, but the flimsy curtain couldn’t stop the strong blast of water from spewing onto the tiled floor. What now? She wasn’t about to go running for Jordan. For one thing, she still wasn’t ready to face him and for another, she didn’t want him to see the state of her living arrangements. It was bad enough that Juliette saw her empty room, but if Jordan saw it? No flipping way.

  Think! A pair of pliers. That’s what she needed. If she could just find a toolbox in the garage, maybe she could grab pliers or a wrench and manually turn off the water. Quickly, Kat toweled her hair and dug through the box of clothes Juliette had dropped off. She threw on a loose blue sundress and raced down the stairs.

  * * *

  Jordan stood in the garage, surveying the piles of debris, the rusted tools strewn everywhere, and the cardboard boxes shoved along one wall that held only God knows what. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it, but why would there be? His parents had never been the type to organize or clean. Things usually stayed wherever they fell. As a kid it didn’t bother him because he didn’t know any better. But once he got older, he saw how other kids lived and realized his parents’ lifestyle wasn’t typical.

  He stopped in front of a pile of messy canvases splashed with color. Dried tubes of paint and ruined brushes were scattered on the floor near a broken easel. Something inside him clenched at the site of the misused, forgotten art supplies. He remembered spending a summer in the front yard, watching his mother at her newest obsession. She was brilliant and artistic and determined. He remembered thinking she was the most talented person in the world. That was before he realized that all her obsessions were just passing fancies. She never stayed interested in anything for that long. Not even him.

  Bending to lift a rusted toolbox, he heard a quick intake of breath behind him.

  He turned and almost dropped the box. Holy hell. Kat Davenport stood in the middle of his garage, looking like she’d just been yanked out of one of his secret fantasies. She was wearing some kind of flimsy blue dress. A very wet blue dress. He swallowed hard, his gaze traveling over the delicious curves of her body. She was wet all over. Even her hair. It streamed down her shoulders and over the intriguing swell of her breasts. Heat blasted through him faster than he could blink, and he was rock hard. Ever since their wild moment in that damn broom closet, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Her soft sighs. The feel of her body molded to his. The subtle strawberry scent of her hair and the taste of her lips. He didn’t think anything could be hotter than that memory, yet here she was now, standing in front of him dripping wet, eclipsing all of it.

  Kat bit her bottom lip, then lifted her chin and said coolly, “I need to borrow your toolbox.”

  Humor tangled with arousal inside him, and he suddenly wanted to laugh. Only Kat could pull off sounding like an imperious queen while she stood barefoot, barely clothed in a puddle of water. Were those soapsuds on her feet?

  “What for?” he asked, noting the way she clenched her hands. Jordan frowned. Something was wrong. If he hadn’t been so blindsided by her appearance, he’d have noticed sooner. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. I just need to borrow a toolbox. Is that it?” She pointed to the thing in his hand.

  Jordan looked down at the ancient toolbox he’d been holding. No telling what was inside.

  She launched toward him, reaching for it. He inhaled sharply. She smelled like strawberries and vanilla, and he fought against the urge to toss the toolbox aside and reach for her.

  She tried to grab it, but he held it away.

  “This isn’t what you want,” he said. “This is just an old piece of junk. My tools are over there.” He jerked his chin to the workbench at the back of the garage. The tools he’d recently purchased at the hardware store were neatly arranged inside a shiny new box.

  Kat charged toward it.

  “What’s going on? Tell me,” he demanded.

  She stubbornly shook her head an
d opened the box. “I just need to borrow a pair of pliers. That’s all.”

  He cocked his head, listening . . . The sound of running water could be heard above them. “It’s the shower, isn’t it?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead she started rummaging through the box, pulling out containers of nails, a hammer, a screwdriver . . .

  “Stop.” Jordan brushed past her, trying to ignore the warmth of her wet skin sliding across his forearm. God, she made him crazy. He closed the toolbox and started toward her apartment growling, “I’ll take care of it.”

  “No!” Kat followed behind him, frantically grabbing at his hand.

  He paused, staring at her small hands circling his wrist. Her fingers were slender and pale against his darker skin.

  She seemed to realize she was touching him, and she let go quickly. “It’s just the pipe in the bathroom. I can do it myself.”

  Cursing, Jordan turned and hurried up the stairs. He knew that showerhead was old. He should’ve fixed it before his grandmother started looking for a tenant. If water got into the walls, there’d be more problems than just the showerhead.

  “You can’t just barge into my place,” she cried.

  “I’m sorry if it inconveniences you.” He pushed open the door. “But I can’t risk water getting in the—” He took in the empty apartment. “Walls.” Something sharp twisted inside him, but he didn’t have time to address it. For now, he had to stop the water from flooding.

  “I told you,” Kat said angrily. “I can do it myself.” She came up behind him in the bathroom, a little out of breath from running up the stairs. Her chest rose and fell, and her green eyes seemed darker. Stormier. She was glaring at him like some fantasy game sorceress about to cast a spell. “You don’t just get to barge in here like you own the place.”

  He could’ve mentioned that he did, in fact, own the place, but he didn’t dare. Instead he set his toolbox down, kneeled on the wet floor, and opened it up. He could feel her hot emerald eyes on him, and he knew she was about three seconds away from either knocking him over the head with the toolbox, or conjuring up a fireball from thin air and hurling it at him. Neither of those things would’ve surprised him, but he didn’t have time to worry about saving his skin.