part0034

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The incessant ringing of the doorbell woke Kit from a black void of a sleep. He woke with a pounding head as he tried to remember where he was. As consciousness and memory returned to him in stages, the doorbell kept on ringing.

Kit groaned and cursed the air a fetid blue. Then he stumbled down from his bed and made his way down the stairs, feeling his way rather than open his eyes against the harsh sunlight. He struggled with the locks and finally opened it.

“Mr. Barranos,” a young voice squeaked. Then someone tugged at his hand. He looked down, way down, and his head threatened to roll off his shoulders at the action. “Hey, Mr Barranos. It’s me Bret. We have to go now.”

“I beg your pardon?” Was that rusty croaking voice his? “What are you talking about?”

Bret Fallahil, all five-one of him fairly vibrated on his toes. It was not an easy task considering he was wearing snug boots and a parka that could have contained two of him. Clearly, his mom did not consider snow weather something to trifle with. Speaking of…

“Where’s your mother?” Kit asked. His voice sounding more like his own. Deep and a little menacing. “What are you doing here?”

“We have a Diwali celebration to get to. Don’t you remember? Why aren’t you dressed?” Bret wrinkled his nose, looking a lot more like his mother than he’d ever looked. “You smell funny.”

“Bret, honey.” Lily hurried up the flagstone path on his driveway and into view. “What’s the holdup?”

She wore a floaty tunic-like top that cinched at her waist with a thick silver belt, under her open winter coat. Her hair swung like a golden halo around her. Her bluebell eyes were especially vivid against the black of her coat. Whatever lipstick she was wearing made him want to take a good long bite out of her pink lips while he ran his hands over the tunic and then underneath.

Kit considered collapsing at the door. He smelled like a brewery gone bad. And looked worse.

Lily’s eyes widened as she saw Kit Barranos’ naked chest and loose track pants. A full blast of heat slammed through her in the cold winter afternoon at the amount of golden, taut skin on display.

That he owned a martial arts studio was evident in the sheer muscle and mass of the man. His chest was a thing of sculpted beauty, filled with the right amount of chest hair that shaped into an appealing trail that disappeared into the waist of his pants. While his arms were…for lack of a better word, beefy.

And when she saw the small Ace of Spades tattoo on his right bicep her mouth watered. It actually watered.

Then she tracked her gaze north of his neck and her eyes widened. In alarm, she tried to assure herself, even as the heat blasting through her melted parts long dead and forgotten.

He’d obviously just stumbled out of bed. His neatly cut hair was jumbled and the hint of beard he always sported had turned into an actual beard. A full beard that hid most of his chiseled jaw from view, while his nose stood out in sharp relief, on a perfectly masculine face.

She could still make out his eyes. Those odd-colored eyes. Ones that had always left her slightly breathless whenever she felt them on her. Although, there was no reason for it to be that way. His eyes were almost closed shut showcasing indecently long lashes, looking at her boy.

Whether in pain or anger or some other emotion, she couldn’t begin to guess.

He raised one deliciously muscled hand – Lily’s mouth watered again - scratched his chest. It was wrapped in a thick, semi-white bandage.

A sound of distress escaped her before she could stopper it. His eyes shot up to hers. The spit dried in Lily’s mouth. The heat in his eyes was enough to scorch right into her.

Lily frowned. “What do you mean, what are we doing here? You’re supposed to be ready by now. We have to go to Sycamore Drive. For lunch. Diwali celebration, remember?”

“No,” Kit said slowly. “I don’t remember. What the hell are you talking about?”

Lily wondered if he was hopped up on pain meds from whatever had caused his injury and so his brains were scrambled. His hand swung to his side and drew attention to the long and taut length of his thigh. And it was her brains that were in danger of scrambling.

Now he shot her a puzzled look. “What? What wife? What are you talking about?”

“Is Mr. Barranos okay, Mom?” Bret asked, clearly concerned by the other man’s unresponsiveness. “Are you okay, Kit? Do we need to call you a doctor?”

Kit closed his eyes. Gave up the fight. “I need to sit down.” He held the door open and watched the two of them troop in.

It did not help his inner balance any that when Lily trailed by him, he could smell and soap and some warm, flowery scent on her. It burned through the fog in his brain and made him see her. Only her. In a bulky winter overcoat and snug, knee-length boots and jeans that outlined her butt so clearly they were criminal. That blond hair a golden fucking halo.

“Your TV is ENORMOUS,” Bret said. Kit supposed that the five feet long television screen was a little over the top but sue him. He liked his entertainment large and over the top. And it was one of the only concessions his mother made to his slight obsession with playing Call of Duty.

“Yeah.” He sat down on the couch while Lily perched gingerly on the edge of a wingchair. Bret was inspecting the monster TV with all the enthusiasm of a boy in love.

Kit looked at Lily who was struck mute for some reason. He waited for her to speak. Lily cleared her throat and pushed her hair back with gloved hands. “I don’t think you’re aware of the lunch today, are you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have a wife, by the way. I don’t know where you got the idea that I did.”

“Dev said…Mrs. Barranos. Lucia.” She sounded so adorably confused it hurt his head and his heart and he didn’t know whether to groan or laugh hysterically.

Kit spied his phone on the coffee table. Checked his voicemail notifications. Sure enough, there was one from Dev. He listened to it while his head pounded unbearably and the throbbing in his hand intensified.

“So, there’s a Diwali celebration today.” It was a statement and not a question.

“Yes. Mom said there won’t be firecrackers but there are always firecrackers back in India so I’m hoping Uncle Dev can get some.” Bret grinned from where he was touching the edges of the monster TV. At Lily’s sharp look he took his hand back. “Sorry, Mr. Barranos.”

“That’s alright.” Kit spread his hands on the couch. Looked up at the swimming ceiling. Nausea was beginning to make its presence felt, along with the various aches and pains. He was epically hungover.

He was only grateful his mother had already left for her volunteer service or she’d have walloped him for being so abominable to guests. And she’d have been right.

Then he stood up on legs that, mercifully, did not shake and made his way to the kitchen that opened off the living room. “You’d like some coffee? Pop-Tarts?” He asked his uninvited guests.

“I need a couple cups of coffee. A couple Advil to kill the headache and a shower so I look decent. I’ll be twenty minutes, tops. That okay?” he asked Lily.

She had no choice but to murmur assent. Then he nodded at Bret. “The remote for the TV is behind the speaker. Go ahead and try it out for yourself. If it’s alright with your mom.”

Bret’s yell of excitement made it amply clear that it didn’t matter whether it was alright with his mom. The next second, Kit winced as the sound level drilled a hole in the epicenter of his head. His eyes watered as he finished the first of his two cups of coffee. Then he took the second cup upstairs to his bedroom where he hoped to God he wouldn’t drown in the shower.