Kick
Thomas parked his Camaro in front of Mick & Hugh’s, walked around the passenger side, and opened the door. I growled as he bent down, like he intended to pick me up. Then I almost laughed as he jumped back, leaving me room to step out of the car.
His concern touched me. Deeply. But having had the “stiff upper lip” drilled into me from an early age, I couldn’t get past the visual of being carried into the smoke shop. Once again, Bobby’s admonition about how nobody wanted to hear (or see) my sob story came to mind. As I had already told Thomas, as cruel as her words had been, they were also right. Add the harassment of me, my family, and my business, and it also felt like eyes were following me wherever I went. Someone on the community social media page had already posted a photo of my bruised forearm, implying it was proof I used drugs. I uninstalled the app from my phone right after seeing it.
“I’m sore and stupid tired, but I’m not an invalid, Thomas.” Jaysus, how I wished I could curl into my sweater and take a nap in his front seat. I stuck a foot onto the asphalt and pushed up. “Thank you, though.” When I took a step, I swear my foot refused to work, forcing me to reach for the roof of the car. I sighed in frustration. Maybe I should’ve brought a cane with me. “I suppose a girl might use an arm.”
Thomas smiled at me in the same way I used to smile at my toddlers, who didn’t enjoy asking for help. Without a word, he wrapped an arm around my waist and propped me up against his side as if we were simply walking into the smoke shop like a devoted couple.
“Katie, you came,” Hugh called out after Thomas opened the door. “Dylan told me you had one of your appointments this morning. I was about to call and make sure you still planned on decorating today.”
No surprise to anyone I’d overbooked. The IV treatments had been easing up when it came to knocking me out, until I’d been drugged—yeah, it was time I stopped dancing around our girl’s-night-out fiasco and called it what it was. My doctor had added something to the medicine bag to help my liver recover, and my body felt like it was back at square one. I hoped it would go by quickly.
There were also multiple reasons I wanted to stop by the smoke shop. After kissing Uncle Hugh’s cheek, I told him, “I’ll decorate for you after I take a nap in Dad’s recliner. I have some samples for you too. Remember?”
“Oh right.” He followed Thomas and me to the office as the three of us passed Dylan behind the counter. I smiled at my son, both from gratitude that he hadn’t left Hugh hanging in order to finish his thesis and to reassure him I was fine. Dylan had cut his hours significantly, but it still helped Hugh. I was sure he would have sold the shop outright if my son had left him all alone.
Before dropping into my father’s raggedy yet comfy chair in the back office, I pulled some CBD ointments and lotions out of my tote bag and spread them out on his old desk, gesturing for Hugh to look them over.
Thomas took the blanket from the back of the chair and opened it. He tipped his head, silently commanding me to sit. I gladly obeyed this time.
He tucked the blanket around me. “Why are you recovering in this ratty thing?” he asked with a chuckle, sounding both confused and sexy.
My jaw cracked on a yawn. “Carmen brought in extra help today so they can deep clean. If I tried to sleep, they would tiptoe around the house and struggle to get it done right while I worried about making them mess up their big job.” I smacked my lips together, hating the cottonmouth the treatments caused. “And I promised Hugh I’d decorate the shop for him.”
Uncle Hugh looked down at me sheepishly and quietly said, “You have a better eye for it than I do.”
I reached for and squeezed his hand. I’d done the holiday decorating since the store opened and had a system. “I know. After my nap, I’ll be good to go.” My tongue practically stuck to my cheek, and I turned my focus to Thomas. “Would you mind getting me a water bottle from the fridge? It’s in an alcove in the back hallway. Hard to miss.”
He kissed my forehead, and my sore body relaxed. “You got it. Be right back.”
“Okay, Hugh, check out this stuff.” I pointed at the jars and tube on his desk. “I think you should stock these, but try them out first. You know, like you do with cigars.”
“You don’t want me to smoke these though.”
I ignored the bad joke and opened one of the jars of the salve instead. I held it up and demonstrated. “Scoop out a small bit and rub it into your hands. Pay special attention to your arthritis spots.” Hugh did as told with an open curiosity.
“It’s a little warm.” He sniffed his hand. “Smells nice too, Katie. Not girly.”
I nodded as I finished rubbing mine into my elbow. “You could sell it now since there’s no THC in it. Your notes suggested an interest in focusing your expansion on using cannabis for health issues over recreation.”
Hugh’s eyes lit up. “That’s the idea.”
“Around here, it’s a good tack. You’ll want recreation products, but you could still emphasize aspects like relaxation, energy, and such.” I held up the jar. “I’ve been using this for years—ever since my doctor told me to stop taking acetaminophen. I use it on sore muscles too. Mostly my back.”
He smiled widely. “I knew you would be the perfect partner for this.”
Hugh asked about the other products, and I filled him in on terms like full-spectrum CBD and CBG, among other things. I thought the lotion would be perfect for his wife, Maggie.
“You think this will help us get the license?”
“Absolutely.” I screwed the lid on the jar and put it back with the others. “Take them home and try them. Hell, you and Maggie should take notes. I’ll email you some websites you can study for more information. The board will appreciate it. Knowing them, though, you’ll go far if you have a ready-made clientele who love these and might be curious about trying stronger things.”
As I wondered where Thomas had disappeared to, he returned with three bottles. I opened one and chugged half of it. I set it on the desk with an audible sigh of relief. “You’re my hero.”
Hugh tapped my foot. “Are you sure you’re set to decorate later?”
I did my best to give him a confident smile, hoping he couldn’t see through to the truth. “It’ll be ready tomorrow.”
“It’ll be perfect.” Hugh placed the jars and tube in his briefcase on the opposite side of the office. He zipped it and took it with him. “Thank you, dear.” He strutted out of the room with more pep than I’d seen him have in a while.
Thomas’s gaze followed him out. “What did you give Hugh?”
I lifted a shoulder. The little movement hurt, and I wished I had more of the salve in my bag. “A CBD-CBG salve for his arthritis.”
“It must’ve been a miracle.”
“Naw.” I laughed. “The hope did that.” I switched to a whisper. “I think Dad’s death scared him about leaving Maggie alone. He’s betting on setting her up with the cannabis profits.”
“Can it work?”
I shrugged. “Possibly. Other than a medical issue, Hugh and Maggie have little overhead. Not like someone raising kids.”
“Like you,” Thomas suggested.
I closed my eyes and leaned back, thinking of how many more years of college tuition payments I had ahead of me. Then I wondered if Liam would ever get around to applying anywhere. “Don’t remind me.” At least my family had the buffer of our inheritance. My mind drifted to the families the McKenna Foundation helped. I hoped we helped them enough to ease their worries.
My aching feet finally yelled at me loud enough to get my attention, and I shifted in the chair.
“What’s the matter, baby?”
I shifted the blanket, hoping it would help. I scrunched my nose. “Would you mind helping me with my feet?”
“Are your shoes too tight?”
I shook my head and ended up stretching my neck. “No. The more the medicine works, the sorer my muscles get.”
“Sure.” Thomas wheeled an office chair over by the footrest. His hand traveled along my calf, gently squeezing, resulting in one of those sensations of pain that feels so good.
I opened my eyes when his massage stopped and saw the grin spread across his face.
“What?”
Thomas’s face filled with warmth, showing me the real him. “You and your boots.”
“They’re moccasins, not boots.” As comfortable as crocs without the hideous style. “They’re usually comfortable.” I shifted farther as he removed them. “Nothing’s comfortable at the moment.”
“How’s this?” Thomas rubbed small circles along my Achilles tendon and over the top of my foot.
“It’s heaven.” I smiled at my weirdly dreamy voice, barely recognizing it as my own. Thomas’s touch transformed something in me, especially since the attack. When we found common time to be together, he seemed to make sure he touched me as much as possible even if it only meant holding hands.
To distract myself from an entirely inappropriate arousal—why hadn’t I rescheduled the deep clean? I asked him, “What took so long getting the water?” I finished the first bottle and dabbed at my mouth with my sweater cuff.
Thomas sighed as if he had to steady himself. “Dylan cornered me about us—I’m a bit shocked because I thought it was obvious we were together.”
“Well—” I could relate to my son. I guess we both wanted formal declarations. The lad probably thought more about his own pain, though, and wanted to make sure I was settled. He’d taken on too much after his father died—of his own accord, but I could see where he would need reassurances.
Thomas kept his focus on a troubling spot on my instep. “You know you’re my priority now, right?”
“Sure, sweets—” He hit a potent spot, making me groan. The pleasure raced through me, almost as intense as an orgasm. It took my breath away.
I looked up, and Thomas’s eyes had glazed over. JaysusMaryandJoseph, why hadn’t I had the foresight to be doing this in my bedroom or his? Because I was a distracted, overthinking idiot, that’s why.
Thomas’s thumb stuck on a spot I’d swore felt like a rock under my skin. I gasped and might have done more, but my brain fuzzed.
“Seriously?” Dylan stuck his head through the doorway and scolded us. “I can hear you. You’re creeping out the customers. Me too.”
Thomas’s hands sprang away from me as if he’d been shocked. His eyes dropped to the floor as he panted, like he was struggling to catch his breath.
Hell. Would I ever get “me time” that didn’t involve a nap? I bit my lip. “Sorry, son. The medicine is wreaking havoc on my body. Thomas’s foot rub helps the pain, but I’ll be good. I promise.”
Dylan squinted but nodded and shut the door.
“I should stop,” Thomas said, though he had resumed stroking my shins.
I shook my head. “I should’ve known the spot would be tender. My hands don’t have your strength, so I’ve never had such an intense reaction to it.”
He switched back to small circles with light pressure. “What do you mean you should’ve known?”
“It’s been a while since I dabbled in acupressure, so my memory of the foot map is a bit faded, but I think you hit the spot for the liver. The liver area is always tender.” I sat back and let out a cleansing breath. “I promise to behave.”
“Christ, darlin’, you kill me,” he said with a slight laugh and exhale of his own.
“How so?”
Thomas rubbed my foot over his jeans, letting me feel his entire erection. He closed his eyes and shifted in the chair while I flexed my toes, wishing I could do more. So much more.
“Damn, baby.”
“That’s my line,” he rasped with a smile in his tone. “I wish I could take you right to my bed right now, but I’m going straight back to the lab from here.”
Despite our desires, it sounded like neither of us had figured out how to work the other into our lives yet.
“If you took me anywhere in your car, I would fall sound asleep before we arrived anyway.”
“Then I should probably go.” He rolled his chair closer to me and kissed me long and gently. It made the desire worse, but it helped to be on a similar page. “Is the pain better?”
Was he kidding? I might have been floating above the chair. “Much. Thank you.” My jaw popped again on a long yawn. “I swear it isn’t you.”
I reached for Thomas’s neck to give him a hug, and the gauze bandage I’d forgotten to remove pulled on my sweater sleeve. I rolled it up to unpeel everything. “Can’t wait until these are through.”
“What the hell happened now?” Thomas exclaimed. He grabbed my wrist and examined my entire forearm while I wished hard to be invisible. The embarrassing paparazzi-like photos came to mind. This was worse than those had been.
I dropped my arm and my shoulders. “A new tech worked in the treatment room today.” When he simply stared at me like my explanation said nothing, I continued, “In some ways, starting a line is like an art. My vein blew out with half the bag left. She had to”—I didn’t know why this embarrassed me so, but I hated it and took a deep breath to continue—“thump my arm to make another vein surface. My regular arm is still healing.”
“Goddammit.” Thomas pulled my hand to his lips and kissed along the bruises, reminding me of Gomez Addams. Only I wished I had Morticia’s badass confidence.
“I didn’t mean to whine,” I said. “I might only need four more.”
“Is it helping?”
I nodded and thought ahead to when I could have all-day energy again.
“Good. Let me tuck you in.”
I sat back and drank down the second water bottle as Thomas made quick work of my other foot. I made a break for the restroom, then let him wrap me back up in the blanket, ready for an hour of peace.
He gave me another panty-melting kiss. When Thomas pulled away, he was flushed as he dropped his forehead to mine.
“I feel like a tease,” I confessed.
“Whatever for? I initiated the kiss and the foot rubs. I like it when you let me take care of you.”
“Well, I don’t like leaving you frustrated.”
“I’m not.”
Right. I could see the bulge. Hell, it looked Photoshopped, even though I knew it wasn’t.
I let my gaze travel from Thomas’s face to below his waist and back, then raised my brows to let him know I didn’t believe him.
“I’m a grown man, not a boy, darlin’. I’ll be fine when I walk out of here. In fact, I’ll float, thanks to you.”
I’d almost run out of my last bit of energy and needed to get on with the napping. I lifted my hand to Thomas’s chin and gently stroked the cleft in his chin. If I dreamed about anything, I hoped it would be about his kisses. I smiled against his mouth as we kissed one last time. “You’re like an early Christmas present.”
“Then I’ll wear a bow the next time I see you.”
Please let that be code for we’ll have sex again soon.
I sat on the meditation porch in my mind, clearing away the naptime cobwebs. In real life, I was sitting in my father’s recliner, legs crossed under me, hoping I did meditation correctly. It relaxed me. Energized me too. I considered both a victory. One of these days, I’d look into finding an actual meditation coach. Or a guru. In the meantime, whatever this place could be called, it worked. At least it did until the noise level on the other side of the door disturbed my peace.
I opened my eyes to find the glow had returned. However, multiple colors shifted around me instead of the light blue color it had been. I didn’t have time to ponder what it meant since a commotion had clearly been growing outside. I flapped my hands and shimmied my body, willing it to fade. It had long stopped frightening me, probably because I always felt better after it appeared. As long as I was alone when it happened, I usually let it flow because it also reminded me of a warm, friendly hug.
Someday soon I planned to get an energy reading. Someone in that line of work should help me understand it all. At the moment, it stayed another item on an unending to-do list.
I stepped into the salesroom, ready to complain about the noise in a mom voice but discovered a literal crowd staring me down. A half dozen customers—then again, reading their frowns, probably not—stood in the center of the space, holding signs and chanting, “Don’t buy from immoral businesses.” Someone else threw in “Jesus is the reason for the season,” which seemed oddly random.
I wanted to reply that axial tilt was the actual reason for the season but thought better of it when I saw my clearly exasperated son. Dylan had his hands in front of him, trying to push the crowd back outside without touching anyone. Thank goodness he’d kept his head. My son had a history of fighting and winning. He was a big man, which sometimes meant hotheads tried to provoke him to prove their own manliness. Given our present circumstances, I didn’t want him dragged into the fray.
I moved to the area behind the counter, seeking some distance. I whistled, then called out, “Let me guess: this has something to do with the opinion piece in the paper? If you have questions, I’m willing to—”
A familiar woman with a pin-straight, bleached, stacked bob pointed at me and declared, “Look at her arms. I told you she shoots up.”
My gaze dropped to my forearms. Sure enough, I had pushed up the sleeves, probably from warming up while sleeping. Well, hell. I hastily pulled my sweater sleeves down and bunched the cuffs into my fists. I wanted to tell her an actual addict is better at hiding the track marks, but I wasn’t sure if it was true. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.
I stared at the countertop, wishing I could clean it. Inhale for four. Hold for four. Exhale for five… Again.
In my periphery, I saw someone outside edge onto the sidewalk, carrying a long gun. Oh, hell no. I really should have rescheduled Carmen and her crew. I might’ve been able to convince Thomas to stay with me for the afternoon. Murphy’s Law struck again.
Moving to the end of the counter, I planted my feet and crossed my arms, my jaw set. “Lock the door Dylan.” The last thing we needed was someone bringing a rifle into Hugh’s store.
“You can’t hold us against our will!” Blonde bob yelled. I thought I recognized her from Liam’s track meets.
“No one’s keeping you here. You folks refused to leave when Dylan asked you to leave. Now, that is illegal, plus you’re turning my friend’s store into a fire hazard.” I pointed to a sign over the door. “The shop also has a no-gun policy. I’m not about to let you risk a good man’s livelihood over lies in a newspaper.”
The man next to the blonde said, “I told you this place was immoral too. I heard the big guy’s her son. Bet he does drugs too.”
I rolled my eyes and took a cleansing breath, afraid to move anything else. Dylan’s high school football record was still spoken of around town. I wondered if these people lived in Oakville, aside from blonde bob woman. Jayz, I wanted to hit someone. I wiggled my fingers to make them relax.
This group definitely didn’t want to hear my sob story. Without letting my gaze leave the crowd, I ignored the accusations and said, “Anyone who wants to leave can go out the back with Dylan.” I tipped my head toward the front. “This door stays locked for now.”
The noise volume ticked back up with the theme of me infringing on their rights, not the other way around.
I pulled my phone out and texted Jake at the Perked Cup.
Me: A hyped-up crowd won’t leave Hugh’s. Can you spare anyone to help? By anyone, I mean you.
I loved having a strapping young veteran in my corner. This kind of situation didn’t faze him. He texted back quickly.
Jake: Sorry, Mrs. Mack. The same group sent people in here first. I pressed the emergency button when someone broke a coffeepot. You should do the same. OPD will be here soon.
More hell. I jumped up to see over the crowd. Sure enough, a mob actually picketed in front of my coffeehouse. My blood boiled at the thought of someone marching behind the service area and scaring my staff—again. Plus why the hell did people consider breaking my stuff a viable option?
I texted back.
Me: Will do. However, if Liam’s there, don’t let him explode. Lock him in your office if you have to.
Jake texted back a thumbs-up. I worried about Lee more than I did Dylan.
After pocketing my phone, I pressed the button under the counter, then stood on a nearby chair and yelled, “The police are on their way, so I suggest you get the hell out now.” I pointed at a camera. “We already have evidence of who’s done what this afternoon.”
Instead of scaring them off, the people resumed chanting, “Don’t buy from immoral businesses.”
Like clockwork, I heard the police sirens. The added honking told me they were at the intersection near our shopping center. All but three in the crowd rushed toward the back, and Dylan urged them to stay calm while he opened the door.
The remaining people faced me while the crowd outside stopped pounding on the windows and turned around, holding up their signs as the police cruisers arrived.
My hands dropped to my waist as I took in another long breath.
“Stay strong,” an older, portly man said to the other two. “We’ll shut her down soon. Cara, you’ll have the coffee shop by the New Year.”
My head snapped up. “Excuse me? On what grounds? You clearly don’t understand the concept of a lease agreement.” Or how good my lawyer was.
Old portly held up a hand and counted off. “We know you broke the agreement. You dealt drugs there. They were found in your diner.”
“I called the police myself when I found them. And it’s not a diner.”
“Exactly. Y’all serve weird food, not American stuff. What’s a scone? My granddaughter said it’s European.”
I threw my hands in the air. “It’s coffee, pastries, and sandwiches. If you don’t like excellent coffee, go somewhere else. No one’s forcing anybody to use my café… or Hugh’s shop.”
“There’s my point.” He held up a second and third finger. “You lure our children into unholy thinking. It’s bad enough you put them in danger on Halloween. You teach them your wrong ways every afternoon.”
“The kids do their homework in a safe, monitored environment… if they want to.”
“We have issues with their homework too.” The man moved his index in a circular motion. “You’re all swirled together. In cahoots.”
For feck’s sake. A thought sparked, cluing me into what might’ve been the source of their rage. “Are you upset over me caring about kids who aren’t my own? Or is it the diversity tutoring after school?”
An exceptional children’s teacher at the high school had started the group in September. It had something to do with the school not being able to sanction a program that would only benefit a minority of students. An off-campus group could zero in on disadvantaged kids who would benefit from time with a peer tutor. It had to do with economics more than race, but there was an overlap of both. Of course I’d jumped all over sponsoring it. It had the added benefit of helping kids from different backgrounds get to know each other better than they would have while surrounded by their normal peers.
“It’s not natural.”
I inhaled sharply as the man hit my last nerve, but a team of officers knocked on the door and saved me from chewing him out.
Grateful for the reprieve, I stepped over to the door and flipped the lock. I hoped this wouldn’t affect Hugh’s ability to secure the cannabis license. I wondered if it was why he’d been dragged into my harassment. The crowd wouldn’t object to selling cigars. Hell, we lived in tobacco country. Our neighborhood was built on former tobacco fields, and yet drive five minutes in any direction, and you’d pass land still growing it. Cannabis, however, was a different story.
What I wouldn’t give for Thomas to show up and save the day like he’d done with Jonn Graham. I wouldn’t yell at him. I’d kiss him in front of anyone. Well, what do you know? In the middle of the chaos, I realized Thomas had become my safe place. His new declarations about priorities had done the trick.
At least I had the upcoming Christmas gala to keep me hopeful. Spending time with the McKenna Foundation families and Thomas together would fill my spirit bucket that this crowd threatened to drain. Add in my plans for some sexy times at my house after the presentation—Liam was spending the night at a friend’s—and I could forget all about this afternoon.