Brian knocked on Spring cabin’s door just as the sun dipped behind the mountains, streaking the denim sky with pink and orange. The days were getting longer, all right. Almost eight o’clock, but it wasn’t fully dark yet. He hoped, much as he liked Sawyer and Lacey, that didn’t mean a later bedtime for them.
The door opened and Katelyn was there, smiling up at him. As he looked down at her, he felt a stirring of surprise. She was wearing a baggy pair of gray sweatpants and an oversized hoody that had seen better days. She looked ridiculously cute, but it was definitely a change from her distinctive retro flare.
“If I’d known we were going to wear what we sleep in, I’d have shown up in my birthday suit.”
Her cheeks flamed crimson like they had earlier in the day, which was interesting. Why did she blush almost every time he opened his mouth? A woman as pretty as she was had to be used to male attention—even the corny kind he specialized in.
Katelyn looked down at herself and her face scrunched. “I’m sorry, dumb, I know. I was obsessing about what to wear when you came over, but then I thought that was stupid. We’re just friends and it’s just a movie night, no special outfit required.”
“So you decided to borrow a homeless guy’s clothes?”
Katelyn’s eyes flashed and for a second Brian worried he’d hurt her feelings, but no, to his relief, she giggled. “Something like that.”
“Well, you totally rock them.”
“Okay, well . . . ” They stood for a moment, as if someone had hit a pause button. Then Katelyn shook her head. “What are we waiting for? Come in, come in.”
What were they waiting for, indeed? He followed her in, and his stomach growled as the scent of hot chocolate and buttery popcorn hit him.
She grinned. “I’m glad I made snacks.”
“Me too, apparently.”
“On that note,” she said as they settled into the small living room, him on the couch, her on the floor, bowls in hand, “you owe me.”
“I owe you?”
“Yeah. Do you have any idea how many times I had to bribe the kids with the promise that I’d make them popcorn tomorrow in order to get them to stay in bed?”
“I can only imagine.” Brian laughed as a memory hit him. “My brothers and I used to complain bitterly if there was even the slightest evidence of a snack party that we hadn’t been privy too.” Weird. He’d forgotten all about that—that his parents used to drink champagne and eat smoked oysters after he and his brothers went to bed. When had they stopped?
A blur of something furry caught Brian’s peripheral vision. What the—?
“Don’t worry. That’s just Monster skulking around, not a rat. He’ll warm up to you. Especially if you throw him the odd snack.” As if to prove her words, Katelyn threw a piece of popcorn. The furry blur snatched it from the air and hurtled up the spiral staircase, disappearing into one of the rooms overhead.
“Well, I’m not convinced he isn’t a rat, but I’ll take your word for it.”
Katelyn smacked his knee gently as if to scold him, and Brian caught her hand—then dropped it as if burned. Theirs eyes met, but they both looked away equally quickly. What was up with that? he wondered stupidly. He’d touched her fingers, hardly anyone’s idea of an erotic zone. Why did it feel like a bolt of electricity had snapped through him?
Katelyn is a wife and mom and altogether not your type, he lectured himself, feeling a bit Callumesque. She is exactly what you don’t look for in women: needs someone serious, has tons of baggage, is solid salt of the earth good girl stuff. Friend stuff, in other words. Friend.
His “friend” passed him a full mug of hot chocolate, complete with bobbing, half-melted marshmallows. He inhaled deeply. Definitely a beverage of buddies and pals, not hot romantic interests—well, maybe for some guys, but not for him. He definitely preferred an edgier type of woman, a harder kind of drink . . . so why did he feel so soft-centered and warm when Katelyn smiled at him?
“Moooom,” Lacey shrieked from upstairs. “There’s a monster under Sawyer’s bed. Heeeeelp.”
Crazy peals of laughter—Lacey’s and Sawyer’s—followed the impassioned plea.
Katelyn sighed and looked at Brian. “That’s one of the reasons we got such a strange, obviously unthreatening little dog. Sawyer used to be really afraid of . . . well, a lot of things.”
“Including monsters under the bed?”
She nodded. “I figured if we could turn it into a good thing to have a monster under the bed, it was one fear that would take care of itself.”
“Did it work?”
Upstairs the kids were crooning, “Monster . . . Monster . . . come and get us.”
Katelyn rolled her eyes. “A little too well.”
Brian laughed. “What was the other one?”
“Sorry?”
“The other reason you got such a little ‘obviously unthreatening’ dog?”
Katelyn wrapped her hands around her mug and stared into her hot chocolate like it might have the answer—or like she was considering whether she should share the answer.
“A lot of people get dogs to protect their kids or yards or so they feel less fearful when they’re out walking.”
Brian nodded and sipped his cocoa.
Katelyn shrugged. “It probably sounds stupid, but I wanted to get my kids a pet that they would need to take special care with, that would show them that no matter how small you are yourself—or how big—it’s important to be gentle and kind. I mean, I want them to be gentle and kind with any animal or person, regardless of size, but with Monster, they don’t easily forget, and he adores them for it. I don’t think we naturally know how to nurture things, even things we love. I think we have to learn. We need to be taught.”
Brian lowered his mug and stared. Katelyn turned pink again.
“That’s . . . wow. You’re a really good parent.”
“No.” Katelyn shook her head. “I’m not. I hope, sometimes I even think, I do some things okay, but other things and in the past . . .” She shook her head again.
Brian sensed that her comment wasn’t a ploy to garner an outpouring of flattery or compliments, so he didn’t argue . . . much. “Well, from where I sit, from what I’ve seen, you are. And anyway, maybe only shitty parents and complete narcissists feel confident that they’re doing an awesome job.”
That brought a small smile, finally. She dipped her chin. “Well . . . thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Her smile deepened a tad more.
As Gracie Hart embroiled herself in the beauty pageant world, they laughed at familiar lines and munched popcorn—tossing the occasional piece to an increasingly brave Monster who had reappeared downstairs again—and Brian relaxed fully. Katelyn was easy company; he didn’t need to overthink their friendship. When the movie ended, they let the credits roll, each lost in their own thoughts.
Finally Brian broke the silence. “Have another one in you?”
Katelyn yawned and stretched. “I wish I did, but I have an early start.”
“Okay.” He got to his feet reluctantly. Ten-thirty felt too early for bed and too late to go into town to visit anyone else. Also, he didn’t really want to see anyone else. He was so comfortable here. It had been such a nice low-key night. He wondered if Katelyn read before bed. Maybe he should’ve brought a book and after they’d read for a bit, then he could’ve headed out.
You’re losing it, Archer, he muttered in his head. You’ve lived alone for years, but now you want a reading buddy?
He scooped up the bowls and mugs they’d used and put them on the kitchen counter on his way toward the door.
“Thank you,” Katelyn said softly.
“You made the food, thank you.”
She twinkled at him. “No, I meant for coming over. I don’t enjoy adult company at night very often, and I haven’t enjoyed male company in like, I don’t know, forever.”
“Well, I’m honored you let me invite myself over. I enjoyed it too—though the latter is totally your choice, of course.”
Katelyn squirted dish soap into the sink and turned on the hot water. “What do you mean?”
“You’re beautiful, funny, nice . . . you could have a guy any night of the week.”
“Um . . . thank you?”
“I’m serious.”
She killed the tap and picked up a dishrag. “We’ll have to agree to disagree. I have two kids, no money to speak of, and a very complicated life. I’m not exactly a catch, but regardless, I don’t want a guy any night of the week, so it’s a moot point.”
There were so many things Brian wanted to say that his mind stumbled over them. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that yes she was, stupid word, a “catch.” He wanted to insist that he meant all the nice things he’d said and more, even though he hardly knew her. He liked how kind she was to her kids and how sensitive she was about their feelings, thanking them for things they did for her, involving them in her day-to-day plans, and genuinely seeming to enjoy them. He appreciated how she was comfortable enough with herself to wear her least flattering outfit when she was having company. And he loved that she offered him cocoa, not alcohol—which was weird, because he loved booze—but again, this small action made him feel like she was accepting him into her real life or something, not pretending her evenings were something they weren’t. But trying to put any of that into words might sound like he was hitting on her and that’s not how he meant it—and it would wreck everything. He settled for, “So I don’t have to worry about losing my new movie friend to some hot date? Excellent!”
She flicked soapsuds at him. “I think you’re pretty safe.”
He grinned. “I’d better be—and I’ll hold you to it.”