A casserole. A fucking casserole. Again.
I try to force a polite smile on my face and tear my eyes away from the foil-covered dish. But my eyes stall on a pair of soft delicate hands, nails tipped with some sort of dark reddish polish, and I’m reminded that this isn’t just a neighbor or random Bluetop citizen who has stopped by to offer condolences on this early spring evening.
It’s Kelsey.
We’ve known one another since we were teenagers. Not to sound like an ass, but in high school, I didn’t pay much attention to Kelsey Bridge. Not in that way. Now, it would be hard not to. It may be ten years later, but she has blossomed into something a man can’t help but double take when he catches a glimpse of her.
“Hey, Bennett,” she delicately greets me. Our eyes meet and she attempts a soft smile as she slants a shoulder up. “I know its cliché, but I didn’t really know what else to bring since you own a winery. You have your own endless supply of alcohol.”
Her twinkly brown eyes study me, waiting for a response. If it wasn’t for the fact that I still feel numb from my dad’s funeral the other day, then I would compliment her on her new hair color. Blonde with strands of a silky brown, full of volume too. Something tells me her hair would smell of expensive shampoo with some kind of exotic oil.
“Right, thanks,” I manage to say as I scratch the back of my neck. I realize she picked a good time to drop by, as I just showered and put on a fresh shirt and jeans, so I don’t look quite the part of grieving son who hasn’t shaved for days.
“It’s a corn casserole or something. I mean, the only thing I know how to make involves corn, so… here,” she offers again by holding it up.
Stepping to the side, I invite her to come farther in. The bed-and-breakfast at Olive Owl is currently closed. The place that I now own with my brothers, a family winery and farm, has grown over the years, to the point we added the inn in the modern country-style house.
How the fuck we ended up named as a romantic getaway spot for couples escaping Chicago is beyond me. But romance amongst Illinois’s finest cornfields and state parks is charming enough for some.
She follows me as I lead us to the kitchen where she places the dish down next to the twenty others that have been delivered in the last forty-eight hours.
Her face drops as she takes in the scene. “Clearly everyone got the memo of Bluetop tradition,” she quips.
“They’re being kind, I guess. Want a drink?” I ask as I grab two tumblers from the cupboard and a bottle of whiskey that is already near empty, despite being opened only three days ago, but my brothers and I needed something to take the edge off. I don’t give her the opportunity to answer as I pour us two generous servings.
“I’m sorry about your father, he was a good man.” She takes the glass from my hand and our fingers graze, and for some reason it’s the first time in days that my body jolts in any form of response.
I don’t acknowledge it for too long as we both lean against the counter.
Jack Blisswood was indeed a good man, gone too soon, but cancer is a bitch, and we knew it was coming.
“I’m sure he’s leading happy hour up there.” I tip my head up, as if I believe in heaven. In truth, I’m not sure of anything anymore. I nudge Kelsey’s shoulder with my own. “But frankly, I’ve talked about him enough the last couple of days. How are you? It’s been a while.”
She hums a sound as she thinks. “It’s been a few weeks,” she reminds me as she clinks her glass with mine. Kelsey owns the only hair salon in town—New Moon. When out-of-town guests come for their weddings, those brides often hire Kelsey to make them and the wedding party picture-perfect. But every time she’s been here, I’ve been busy running the place, and despite having mutual friends, we haven’t really had a deep conversation.
“It’s now spring, so I guess I’ll be seeing more of you as wedding season kicks in.” I peer up from my glass and look at her. She nibbles on her bottom lip as if she’s unsure if I might break.
“Is that a complaint? Or wishful thinking? But yeah, I definitely have a full summer ahead. Remember that big restaurant entrepreneur from Chicago who got married here at Olive Owl? His bride was featured in this magazine, and it has helped business, for sure. Maybe one day I’ll expand New Moon into a full spa or something. I guess the ladies of Bluetop would like that.” She chuckles softly under her breath. “Funny that this town is where I ended up again.” She moved back maybe a year ago after living in Arizona.
Taking a decent swig of my drink, I smirk gently to myself. “You sound like my brother.”
“Oh yeah, Grayson is moving back to take care of your sister, right? Fuck, Brooke must be losing her mind.” I like the way she grins gently to herself, almost as if she’s amused by that.
But rightfully so. My older brother, who was all too eager to escape Bluetop after high school, is moving back. He was made guardian of our teenage sister Lucy, since our mom passed when Lucy was born and now our dad is gone too. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s getting dragged back, though, because his new neighbor is his one true love, so that should be incentive enough. Grayson was just a fucking idiot and let her get away when he was younger, so he may need to grovel a bit.
“We have a bet on how long they hold out. Want to join in?” I offer with a raised brow.
“Brooke may kill me as her best friend, but yeah, count me in. I give it one week tops before those two cross lines.”
I feel the subtle hint of a smirk form on my face from that note.
“Is Knox around?” she asks, looking out the kitchen window, and I wonder if it’s to make conversation or if she’s interested in him.
For some reason that idea annoys me. Knox is my younger brother, the guy with the model looks and a hardened attitude that makes women a little crazy. Hell, the guy only has to flash a grin and women are ready to give him their world.
“Nah, he’s delivering some crates of olive oil and wine then staying at my dad’s house since Lucy is there. Grayson is packing up his place back in Chicago,” I explain, as only Knox and I live at Olive Owl, and since it’s outside of town, it’s easier that Lucy doesn’t move here until she’s finished with high school.
I have my own living area just off the bed-and-breakfast, and Knox lives in his own area on the other side of the property. We’re the ones who really run Olive Owl. Grayson may give input, but he has never been hands-on the way we are.
“So, it’s just you and me here?” I notice she gulps, and I wonder why that would make her slightly nervous.
I can imagine that it has everything to do with the fact I checked out her ass in that pair of skinny jeans, just like I know she gave me the once-over and paused at my muscular arms.
“Is that a problem?” For the first time in days, I feel slightly entertained as I reangle my body to hers and lean more into the counter.
Kelsey shakes her head gently. “Not at all.”
Our eyes hold for a moment until she blinks and steps away. Setting her glass down, she examines all the dishes on the counters. “This really is overboard.”
“There are more at my dad’s house for Lucy. Bluetop definitely won’t let us starve. What’s funny is someone even gave us a care basket that included a jar of Olive Owl jam, as if we don’t have enough in the barn.”
“That’s kind of ridiculous. Rumor from the ladies at the salon is that there is a line of women ready to care for the Blisswood brothers too.” She smirks softly to herself as she plays with a spoon to keep her hands occupied.
Folding my arms, I watch her. “Pickings are slim in this town.”
She flashes me a humorous look. “Old ladies will ship in their granddaughters.”
Scratching my chin that has a bit more stubble than I am accustomed too, I soak in the compliment.
“I should probably get the word out not to waste their money.”
Kelsey grabs a cookie from a plate, looks at it, and takes a bite. “Oh, please, there is no way you plan on staying a celibate bachelor. Not with looks like yours, that would be a crime to humanity.”
Geez, she is feeding my ego more than she must know.
“I look good?” I pretend to be surprised, but I know I keep myself in shape, and it’s been the story of my life since my voice dropped that it’s easy to score a date if I need to.
She throws a cookie at me that I let drop to the floor before she rolls her eyes. “How is our longest conversation in months about your looks?”
I step into her space and reach across to grab a piece of beef jerky. I may be in mourning, but nothing can keep a man away from Helen’s homemade jerky. She helps us out here at Olive Owl, while her other hours are filled with Tuesday crafts with the older population of our little town
“Not true. We spoke about the influx of foxes in the area,” I remind her.
She snickers. “That was about ten years ago during third-period history class.”
“Fuck, time flies. We are getting kind of ancient.”
“Our twenties are our prime, Bennett.”
“For you, maybe; I’m a Blisswood so we don’t age.” Oh shit, that came out a little too cocky.
Her facial expression informs me she isn’t impressed.
“You were always the quietest of all your brothers, but I guess your true colors just came out.” She pivots to grab her glass, but I grab her arm.
“I’m sorry, and if it’s any consolation, you look way better now than in high school.”
Her mouth parts open and I realize that I’m an idiot, as that sentence digs me deeper. Quickly I add on, “Not what I meant.” I scold myself and close my eyes as I prepare to make amends. “I just… you… look really good. No wonder the women of Bluetop come to you for advice to make them look decent.”
Kelsey’s eyes squint at me, as if she is debating whether my save was enough, but then her face relaxes. “I know what you mean. I was only average-looking when I was a teenager and now I am like a solid nine out of ten.” Her confidence is damn cute.
“Only a nine?”
“Nobody is perfect.”
Her answer is right, as we all have flaws, and I would like to think that I’m level-headed and try enough to be kind to people, but I can’t be perfect.
“Want something to eat? I mean, like dinner or something? I would say pickings are slim but literally every food group is represented in this room. Hell, even if you want a gluten-free and vegan option then it’s somewhere here.”
Her face turns puzzled. “You’re vegan? You just had jerky.”
“Nah, but I’m going to take a wild guess that the new couple from Portland who own the coffee shop are. Even delivered their casserole with fresh coffee, and it’s some damn good coffee.”
“Oh, I know. I mean, easy to do since Sally-Anne’s coffee at her bakery literally tastes like poison, but what I really love is the little rivalry that’s formed between them. Don’t you dare walk by her bakery with a takeaway cup from Bear Brew, you’ll be blacklisted for life.” Her face lights up from this news.
Grabbing some plates, I review the fact that everyone names their place of business something animal-related in this town.
“Have you been to Rooster Sin lately or have you been banned?” I ask as she clears space on the counter. She’s never one to pass on a good night out.
“I have not been banned, thank you very much,” she proudly answers. “Which is good, since it’s the only bar around and those two-for-ones on Fridays can be a killer. They have some good live music too. I guess you haven’t been there recently, since you had to help with your…” She stops when she realizes she’s reminding me of the fact that I cared for my father until his quiet and private funeral the other day.
“I’ll head back there again soon. Life goes on, and we knew this moment would come.” I state my philosophy for what feels like the millionth time in the last few months.
Her hand touches my arm as I sit down, and a comforting feeling washes over me. I guess I haven’t really had the chance to have a normal conversation with someone, as mostly I’ve been with my family in the last month. It’s a welcome change.
I give her a soft smile and trap her hand between my arm and my own palm and tilt my head to the side. “Come on, let’s stuff our faces.”
It must be two hours later and we’ve had a whole rundown of what we’ve both been up to in the last years. The past few months have been nothing but general chitchat with one another when in a group of people, nothing like this intimate conversation we just had. Before long, I realize that we are on our second glass of whiskey, maybe our third, I’m not sure. Nor do I care. I’m just relieved that for the last two hours I could just be in a comfortable conversation.
She laughed at me after I confirmed to her that I work out sometimes with Coach Dingle who still coaches the football and baseball teams at the high school.
She took her sweater off somewhere between her second and third lemon bar. And damn, she has some muscle definition on those tiny arms. Her bra pushes up her cleavage just enough to be considered normal but make my imagination wander a little too much. Best part is that she has no clue she’s doing it. A hidden agenda isn’t her style.
“High school was a good time, but I never ever want to relive it, you know?”
I lean back on the stool and blow out a long breath. “I literally shudder every time Lucy tells me about her day. Teenagers have it harder now. But, I mean, the parties and summers were good. Wait a sec, how have we not brought up that night?” Now I can’t hold back a grin and it feels good to smile.
She holds her palm up. “Because it would be awkward.”
I take another drink. “No, no, no.” I shake my head with a smirk forming. “Don’t go shy on me now. I’m calling you out. We totally messed around once at a party.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Not sure it counts. The card fell during a game of suck and blow, and we had an audience and a plastic cup of jungle juice in hand.” She gives me a unique look that is a cross between challenging me and unsure.
“Fair enough. But you did prolong the kiss longer than needed.”
Her eyes widen and her mouth gapes open. “Bennett Blisswood, that is just not true.”
I lean closer to her and whisper. “Kind of true,” I tease.
Something about that move causes her to drink from her whiskey. Kelsey’s face squinches at her last sip and she looks into her glass. “I didn’t think this through. I drove here.”
“Relax, I’m sure I have plenty of rooms you can stay in,” I assure her.
Her finger zings up into the air. “Oh yeah, this is a bed-and-breakfast.”
“Since that’s settled, want another drink?”
“Why not, but I need to step away from this counter or I will eat an entire cherry pie next.”
As I slide off the stool, I tell her, “Meet me in the sitting area next to the fireplace.”
She nods and I grab the bottle of whiskey, only to see it’s empty. Walking to the wine fridge, I grab a bottle of Olive Owl’s finest white wine.
Walking into the seating area, I notice Kelsey is holding a picture of the Blisswood family when we opened the bed-and-breakfast a few years ago and had a big party. We were all dressed up, and the photographer had taken our photo on the back patio that is now a wedding destination in good weather.
She peers up at me and that warm smile of hers spreads. “It’s a good photo.” She sets it back down on the mantle.
For some reason, the sight of it pinches at my heart. We are one less member of the family.
“Yeah… yeah, I guess it is.” It comes out faint from my lips. Remembering that I have a bottle of wine hanging from my hands, I hold it up. “Out of the hard stuff, but we’re never in short supply of the good stuff.”
She snorts in response. “Wow, is that a line you use?”
Shaking my head, my jaw flexes, as I really must sound like an ass tonight. “No, but I guess I could give it a try sometime.”
“Let me know how it goes. And no thanks on the wine.”
“What lines have the local boys been playing on you?” My brows knit together, and I’m curious. She’s strong-minded and occasionally feisty, wouldn’t be a bad date.
She licks her lips, and her hands find her back pockets. “None. I’ve been too busy with the salon. Plus, the one blind date that I had a few weeks back was a total bust. I bailed by the main course.”
Stepping closer to her, I feel the shift, the idea screaming in my head for a temporary escape. Should be surprising but it’s not, because her pouty lips are always the perfect shade of rose pink.
“You okay?” She moves closer and she touches her fingertips to my shoulder to check in with me.
“Sure. Just a long few days.” I feel my mouth watering and it’s adding to my confusion.
“I can imagine. I really am… sorry.” Hesitantly she reaches out, and when I don’t move, she wraps her arms around me to pull me into a hug. “You’ll be okay,” she whispers, and I sink into her hold.
Her hands are soothing me in circles on my back, my hands run along her spine. Yes, her hair is intoxicating me with that scent of exotic oils, a speculation confirmed.
We just hug in the most calming hold that I’ve had in a while, so we tighten our grip.
Kelsey’s head tips back and our eyes meet, causing her body to arch into me, and it awakens parts of me that should still be numb from the last few days, but fuck, my dick has a mind of its own.
With neither one of us moving, the silence freezing us, I do the only thing that makes sense.
Tipping my head down, I brush my lips slowly along hers as she tilts her mouth up, and when I feel her lips teasing me, her breath melding with mine, our lips dragging against the other… an urge swims up my body…
I kiss her.