Chapter Six

Nate

I toss restlessly, thinking about Kira. Sweet Kira with that adorable yet sexy blush on her face as she stood inches from me at her door. It took everything in me not to gape, slack-jawed, as I took in all the beautiful, visible skin. Fuck, when she gave that breathy little whisper, all I wanted to do was drag her to me, press my lips to hers, and explore her mouth with my tongue. My cock twitches at the visual, and I almost take it into my hands.

Treat her like a sister, my ass.

I want Kira in my bed. I’m not sure what it is—her sweetness, her innocence, or all that sexiness veiled under that oversize T-shirt that I’d love to get my hands and mouth on.

But am I going to do anything about it?

Hell no.

I have work to focus on, and besides that, it’s clear she’s not the kind of girl who indulges in one-night stands—everything about her says white picket fence—and I’m not the kind of guy who can give her more.

I roll and check the clock to discover that it’s after midnight and I still can’t sleep. Grumbling with sexual frustration, I kick off the blankets and a chill goes through me. The fire downstairs must have gone out. Kira’s room has propane, but the main level is heated by wood.

I tug on my jeans and pad quietly to my door. I listen for a moment, but the house is asleep. I take the steps, careful to avoid the squeaks, and make my way into the big living room.

There are only a few embers burning in the fire. I grab a big hardwood log and toss it in. Flames flare and I stand back and cross my arms over my chest. Satisfied the wood has caught, I’m about to head back upstairs when the sound of the old kettle singing stops me.

Who the hell is up?

Flames dance on the walls as I head to the kitchen. I poke my head in and see Kira dipping a tea bag into a mug as she examines something in her other hand. The under-counter lighting is on, bathing her in a golden glow, making her look soft and delicate.

“Couldn’t sleep, either?” I ask quietly, not wanting to startle her. “Mice?”

She turns, alarmed at first, but smiles when she sees me. She shoves something into the pocket of her pajama pants, something she clearly doesn’t want me to see.

“Partly, but I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get that mouse, and tomorrow I’ll check the foundation and patch any holes they might be coming in through.”

“Thank you,” she says.

I hesitate for a moment. What else does she have on her mind? “I’m here if you want to talk about it, but if you don’t, I’ll leave you alone. I couldn’t sleep, so I tossed another log on the fire. It was cold upstairs.”

Her eyes go wide. “I’m so sorry. I never thought. I would have done that for you guys. I just didn’t know.”

I shrug. “No big deal. I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Things on your mind, too?”

“Yeah,” I say but don’t elaborate. Dad called when I was walking Bridgette and Ellen back, and he’s breathing down my fucking throat about the cottages. I wish he’d back off and trust that I’ll pay a fair price and I’m not hemorrhaging money on this so-called state of the art plant that I took upon myself to build despite his protests.

I’m the CEO and I damn well know what I’m doing. In the end, I won’t just be saving money, I’ll be saving the goddamn business, and thousands of jobs. Status quo doesn’t work in a changing world.

“Tea?” she asks, and I take that as an invitation.

“Sure.”

Her hips sway slightly, and as she reaches above her head to grab another mug, it exposes the skin at the small of her back. Her innocent sexuality hits like a double shot of rum, and a fucking moan catches in my throat. Shit.

“Everything okay?” she asks as she drops a tea bag into the mug.

“Yeah,” I say. A gust of wind howls outside, and the cedar shingles creak and twist. Where the hell was that noise when I needed it?

“I always loved that sound,” Kira says. “We had some crazy summer storms. I found them soothing and they always put me to sleep when I was young.”

“We had a metal roof growing up, and I loved when it rained.”

“I bet. Milk and sugar?”

“Milk,” I say and pull open the fridge. “This is my shelf here, but we all share, so feel free to help yourself to anything. Edna gave us a dozen fresh eggs yesterday.”

“Edna.” Her brow crinkles. “She’s the chicken lady, right?”

“That’s the one.” I pull out the jug and hand it to her. She splashes a bit in each cup and hands me mine. I take a sip, and she looks around the room, her mood mellow, sentimental.

“Do you have any thoughts on which realtor I should contact?” she asks.

“Actually yeah, I know a good one,” I say. I bought my place not long ago and had an excellent one. “I can get you his information.”

Cup of tea in hand, she blows on the surface and, barefoot, walks slowly into the other room. She stands before the paintings. “Gram was so talented,” she says.

“She was,” I say, admiring the paintings. I take in the lost look on Kira’s face, and my heart hitches. “You really miss her terribly, don’t you?”

She sniffs and turns a bit. “I do.” We both go quiet for a long time. The only audible sound is our soft breaths, and the fire crackling in the hearth. “I…I never got closure.”

That takes me by surprise, considering how close she seems to her Gram. “How come?”

“Mom didn’t think a service was necessary.” She glances at me and says, “I haven’t even been to the graveyard yet.” She shakes her head and gives a humorless laugh. “I don’t even know why I just told you that.”

“It’s late, you’re exhausted, and being here again is taking more of a toll than you realize. You needed someone to talk to, and I happened to be here.”

She nods and goes quiet again.

I touch one of the picture frames. “What are you going to do with them all?” I ask.

“I wish I could take them, but I live in a small one bedroom, and it would be a fortune to have them shipped. I’m going to donate them to the town’s art gallery,” she says.

“There’s enough of them around here.” I’ve never seen so many galleries in one place before.

“I want these to be enjoyed. Gram would like that.”

The fire flares and lights up the specks in her eyes. I grab another piece of wood, open the grate, and toss it on.

“What about you guys, though?” she asks, a frown on her face. “Where will you go?”

There is genuine concern in her eyes as she blinks at me. “Lobster season ends the last day of November. Do you think you’ll sell this place before everyone moves on to the next location?”

Her eyes light. “I never thought of that.” She smiles and nods. “It’s possible that I won’t be putting anyone out. This season, anyway.” She swallows and the sound carries. “I hate that mom wants to sell it. I mean, I know I don’t get back often, but it’s obviously not what Gram wanted.”

My gut tightens at the sadness in her tone. Fuck, maybe I should buy it, keep it in the family for her. Wait, what the hell am I saying? I’m not about to own or run a B&B. As soon as the plant is done, I’m out of here, on to the next operation. She’ll likely do the same. Someone will offer her the right price, and she’ll pocket the money and put the town in her rearview mirror. When push comes to shove people take care of themselves first.

“Your Gram will live on in the local art galleries,” I say.

She turns to me and smiles, and the warmth and sweetness behind it washes over me, seeps under my skin. The fire lights her body as she steps up to it and takes a sip of tea.

It’s all I can do not to lean into her, taste those damp lips. Would she taste like cupcakes? I can only fucking imagine that she would.

“Since I’m up, I think I’ll go to my study, do a little bit of work.”

“Are you a student?” I ask, even though she made it clear she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Something like that.”

At that non-answer, I say, “I should get to bed. Six o’clock comes early.”

Another gust of wind washes over the house and she hugs herself. “I think Frank’s knees might be onto something. It sounds like there’s a storm coming.”

I pull open the curtain and from our perch on the hill, we have a view of the ocean. It’s dark, but if I listen carefully, I can hear the surf, the waves crashing against the docks.

“Will it be safe to be on the boats tomorrow?”

Her concern for my men does something weird to me. “Hard to keep a good lobster fisherman down,” I say. “But our company has strict criteria, if it’s too dangerous, the boats don’t go out.”

“That’s obviously changed since I was a child.”

Her soft smile draws me in and before I realize what I’m doing, I take a step toward her. “Have you ever thought about buying the place yourself.”

She gives a laugh that comes out sounding like a snort. “Even if I could afford a down payment, I don’t belong here, Nate. My life is on the other side of the country.”

“Okay,” I say, totally understanding where she’s coming from. I don’t belong here, either. I set my tea down, stretch my arms over my head and her eyes drop, move over my bare chest. She takes a small breath, almost too quiet for me to hear, and I rub the back of my neck, wanting to stand here with her longer, continue the conversation—or maybe take her to my bed. I dip my head, and run my tongue over my bottom lip, dying for a taste of her. I swallow against a dry throat that scratches like I haven’t had a drink in ages. The log in the fire cracks, snaps some sense back into me, and breaks the trance between us. “I uh, I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night,” she says quietly, breathlessly.

I turn, take the stairs two at a time, and flop on my bed. I leave my door cracked, in case Kira needs me to collect her mouse trap, or anything else she might need. Like a hot tumble between my sheets. Warmth from the fire downstairs rushes up, and I roll, trying not to think about how close I was to kissing her. Christ, what would she have done? Introduce my balls to my gut with her foot?

Or would she have kissed me back?

Groaning, I roll, tug the blankets to my chin, and the next thing I know, my alarm goes off and the smell of bacon reaches my nostrils. I stretch out and glance out the window to find a light dusting of snow on the ground, but the winds are still high, the top branches of the trees batting against the side of the house.

I dress and step into the hall. The doors around me all open, save for Izzy, she does not like mornings and prefers it if we’re all out of her way by the time she crawls from her sheets. But this morning, her door cracks open.

Her focus shifts from me, to Sam, to Jason and then to Cody. “If we’re all here, who’s making the racket downstairs?” The clanging of a pan hitting the floor reaches my ears.

“That’s been going on for about half an hour,” she says.

I must have been in a deep sleep. “My guess is Kira is cooking breakfast.”

“Right,” she says, obviously forgetting about our newest family member in her half-coma state.

“Shit,” Jason says. “Where’s the fire extinguisher?”

Everyone chuckles, but I say, “She’s a smart girl. Give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Cody says.

We all take a quick turn in the bathroom, and head down the stairs in single file, which reminds me of my elementary school fire drills. I just hope that’s not the case this time. We pile into the kitchen and Kira’s tired eyes light when she sees us. Did she get any sleep last night?

“Good morning,” she says, a little too chipper for this motley crew. She gets a few grumbled responses and Izzy goes straight for the coffee.

“You’ve all been so nice to me, I thought I’d do something for you in return.”

“Not burning the kitchen down is nice,” Jason teases, and it brings a smile to Kira’s face.

She points to the stove. “I Googled how to properly use a gas stove,” she says.

I like her resilience. “Need any help?” I ask, and for the first time since I entered the kitchen her glance flickers my way. Our eyes meet, hold a second too long, before she shakes her head no.

“I’ve got it all under control.”

Izzy sits down and slurps her coffee. She’ll need a few of those before she comes out of zombie mode.

Sam steps up to the window and looks out. “Man, we’re going to freeze our nuts off out there today.”

“Have you checked the front closet for a coat?” I ask Kira.

“No, but I found some toques, mitts, and a couple homemade knitted sweaters in Gram’s room. She made them in different sizes and donated them to those who needed them. You guys are welcome to whatever you’d like.” She nods toward the counter near the back door, and I see the pile. “Just help yourselves.”

Izzy snort. “Homemade knitted sweaters. Those damn things are back in style.”

“They’re all a little big for me. I don’t mind, but I’ll drown in her coats. She comes from sturdy German stock,” she says with a grin.

“Better that than freezing to death.” Izzy looks Kira over and snaps her fingers. “You got no meat on your bones. You’ll freeze in seconds.”

“I’ll be okay,” she says, and for some reason I know she will be. She’s tougher than she looks. “Now, who wants bacon, fresh Edna eggs, and pancakes? I baked with Gram, but this is pretty much all I know how to cook.”

I grab plates from the cupboard and set them out on the long oak table, and I fill mugs of coffee for everyone as she divvies up the food. Sam coats his pancake in syrup, tapped from a local maple tree farm.

“Pancakes, a transport mechanism for syrup,” he says, and hands the bottle to Kira.

She pours and passes it on. I try not to watch her lips part as she slides her fork in. Sporting a boner at the breakfast table is not my idea of a fun time.

“Oh my God, I forgot how good Nova Scotia maple syrup is.”

“Only the best,” Cody says, and we all agree.

As we eat, Kira goes quiet, and I sense she has something on her mind. Izzy works on her second cup of coffee and has come more alive. Once our plates are practically licked clean, Kira places her hands on the table and glances at us.

“I have some bad news.”

I sit up a little straighter. I’m guessing the breakfast was to soften the blow of her news.

“What’s up?” Jason asks.

“Well, you see. This bed and breakfast came to my mom after Gram died, and I’m here to sell it for her,” she says getting right to the point.

Sam sets his fork down. “You’re selling Gram’s B&B?” he asks, like there is no way in the world for him to process that. Sam and Gram were close. He’s been staying at her place for years, and he was the one who took her to the hospital when she was having pains in her chest. He was like the grandson she never had. I expected the news to be hard on him.

“I’m sorry,” Kira says. “It’s mom’s wishes, and I can’t see any other way around them. I have to sell.”

“Why don’t you stay? Buy the place out from her?” Sam asks.

She looks down, and a line forms in the center of her forehead. She opens her mouth and closes it again. Coming to her rescue I say, “Kira’s life is on the other side of the country.” I don’t bring up the fact that she can’t afford to buy it. She seemed a little embarrassed by that last night. “We can’t expect her to just pack up and move here.”

Kira gives me a grateful smile, a thank you for the rescue, and for some odd reason her appreciation curls through me, does the weirdest things to my fucking insides.

“We have to keep it in the family,” Jason says. He looks down like he always does when he’s scheming something. But no scheme is going to change the fact that she must sell.

“I’m sure it won’t sell before fishing season is up this year, but next, you’ll have to find other accommodations. If we do have viewings, I’ll try to make them as unobtrusive as possible.” The mood around the table changes, and plates get pushed away. But it’s Kira’s frown that hits like a sucker punch.

Nothing about this feels right. But it’s not my place to step in and try to fix things. My only goal is to see to business, then move on to the next failing plant that needs technological changes and a boost of youth and energy.

Yeah, staying here was never part of the plan and I’m no one’s knight in shining armor. I just can’t figure out what it is about Kira, that makes me want to save the day. Clearly, I need to put some distance between us, and I will.

Tomorrow.