Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance (13 page)

I
walk
out of Lily's bakery and make the drive back to the cabin, practically fuming. I don't know why I'm so irritated. I wasn't even asking her out on a date. I really just wanted to take her to the cabin. I wanted to bring her to my bed. But then she said that shit about going out in public with me, and it got under my skin.

Like she would be ashamed to be seen in public with someone like me.

Her words set off every feeling that I was familiar with as a kid growing up here in West Bend shame and embarrassment that I was who I was, one of the Saint boys. After that, as an adult, let's just say that no one was taking me home to meet her parents.

She's making it clear that she's slumming it with someone like me. I can put my mouth on hers, put my tongue in her pussy, but she doesn't want me anywhere else.

I grumble as I start building the frame for a back deck on the house. The whole damn house will be surrounded by decks at this rate.

I'm still on edge the next day. Even a morning of manual labor fails to take it out of me. Then Silas shows up out of the blue, the absolute last person in the world I want to see.

"The cabin's looking good." He stands in the dirt driveway with his hands half tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

"I'm building a deck."

Silas nods. "Looks good," he repeats awkwardly.

I exhale heavily. I'm ready for this bullshit with Elias and Silas to be over. "You want a beer?"

Silas sits in Jack's rocking chair and I hand him a cool bottle, sipping my beer and leaning up against the deck railing. Beads of condensation collect on the glass immediately in the sun, running down the sides. I take a drag from the bottle and look at Silas. "You drove a long way up here."

"Elias and I were talking after the dinner at his and River's place the other night, and I got to thinking."

"Yeah?"

"I know you wouldn't have left in the middle of all that shit unless it was something important."

I nod and let out a long breath. "I left a friend to come back here after mom died."

A look flits across Silas's face and I know exactly what he's thinking.

"Not a girl," I clarify.

"I didn't say anything."

"I could see it in your eyes. I wouldn't have taken off in the middle of all that for a piece of ass, alright?"

"You don't have to be so damn sensitive," Silas says.

"You're going to feel what 'sensitive' is like when I punch you in the balls."

Silas chuckles, sipping on his beer. He kicks back in the rocking chair. "It's a nice place you got up here."

"It's quiet."

"No brothers around to bug the shit out of you," he teases.

"Exactly," I agree. "Quiet."

"Luke's going to propose to Autumn."

"So I hear."

"There's this girl Tempest knows. . ." Silas starts.

I groan. "Is that why you came up here? To set me up with some chick?"

Silas shrugs. "Tempest insisted this girl was your type."

"What the fuck is my type?"

"That's what
I
said! Everyone knows you're too much of an asshole to be set up with some girl. Can you imagine? One growl from you and she'd go running."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Silas says. "You're just. . . well, you're you."

"Did you come up here to make peace or start some new shit with me?" I growl. What is with people? I'm too much of an asshole to be set up with some girl?

"I told Tempest I'd mention it while I was here."

"Consider it mentioned."

Silas is silent for a minute, taking a drag from his beer while I mentally congratulate myself for not punching him. First Lily, and now Silas? I'm not
that
much of an asshole.

"Luke said you were working," Silas says.

"Nope."

"At that cupcake place." Silas gets a self-satisfied look on his face, almost like he's going to crack a smile.

"Shit, you really don't know when to stop, do you?" I ask. "No wonder your smart mouth gets you into so many fights."

Silas grins, obviously pleased with himself. "Tempest likes you, you know. She said that underneath that brooding exterior, she thinks you're sweet."

"Sweet."

"Her words, not mine." Silas looks smug.

"Why the hell are you guys talking about me?"

"Because of the friend. She said she thought you were sweet and I said I thought you were a misanthropic asshole."

I laugh, more of a cough. "Thanks for sticking up for me."

"What are brothers for?" Silas asks, still grinning.

We're both silent for a while, the only noise out here being the birds and the rustling of leaves in the woods. Finally I speak. "I left Texas to come back here when mom passed," I explain. "I left a good friend in the hospital."

Silas nods. "Is your friend alright?"

"He died. That's why I went back when I did. Thought I could make it back before he passed, but he was gone."

"Shit, man." Silas takes a drag on his beer. "I didn't know."

I sip mine again. "Well, now you do."

Silas nods, kicking back in his chair again. "You did all the work on this yourself, huh?"

"Yep. Been working on it the past couple months. Here, I'll show you." I give him the grand tour, pointing out the modifications I've made to the cabin and the shed out to the right that I converted into a workshop.

After Silas leaves, I feel slightly less on edge, since at least the negative bullshit between me and the twins is done with. But what he said about me being too much of an asshole to go out with Tempest's friend keeps bugging me. Not that I want to fucking go out with Tempest's friend. I don't. But I'm also not some ogre sitting in a cabin by myself, hating the world.

I'm not.

"
I
was
polite yesterday when you were walking around here like someone took your birthday " Opal starts, but I interrupt her.

"I was certainly not walking around here like someone took my birthday," I protest, piping purple frosting onto a batch of lavender cupcakes, a new recipe I've been playing with.

"Sure you weren't. You forget that I've had to work with you the past few months, every single day."

"If you don't like it, you should quit," I snip, immediately regretting how I sound. It's not Opal's fault I'm in a bad mood; it's my own.

Opal raises her eyebrows. “I know you didn't mean that, since you'd be lost without me." She wipes her hands on her apron and stares me down, daring me to challenge her.

I exhale heavily and set down the piping bag. "I
would
be lost without you. And I didn't mean to be snippy. I'm just stressed out."

"Mmm-hmm. Would that stress have anything to do with the way Killian stormed out of here yesterday?"

"No. Definitely not," I say, my words shaking. "Maybe a little. But I'm more stressed about the store and the fact that I have a mortgage and a child and "

"You know what's good for stress?"

I can't help but laugh. "Don't even say it. You're like Killian's pimp."

"Trust me, child, that boy doesn't need any pimping out. You've seen how those college girls look at him when he's in here, like he's a piece of meat and they're a pack of wild dogs."

I roll my eyes. "I don't know why you're pushing me at someone who obviously has lots of girls chasing after him."

Opal sighs like she's exasperated with me, but I know she's exaggerating. The two of us might bicker back and forth, but she's the closest thing to a friend I have in this town. "Because you need to get back on the horse."

She gives me a pointed look and waggles her eyebrows.

I choke back a laugh. "Subtle, Opal."

"I was hoping I was obvious.”

I shake my head. “What is wrong with you?”

“Honey, I'm seventy-three years old."

"What does that have to do with all of your innuendos?"

Opal laughs. "It means I don't give a shit how I'm supposed to act at seventy-three."

"I hope I'm like you when I'm seventy-three, Opal."

"You need to turn off your give-a-shit meter and stop caring what people think."

"Who says I care what people think?"

Opal doesn't answer my question. "I wasn't always like this, you know. The older you get, the less you care what people think. Which means that if I want to have a booty call at seventy-three years old, that's what I do."

I laugh. "Booty call?” The last time we talked about Opal's love life which is apparently far more interesting than my own she said she was seeing one of the widowers in town, Bert, a deacon at the church. Now she's talking about booty calls?

"I believe that's what they call it these days. Booty call. Or fuck buddy.”

"I can’t believe you’re talking to me about booty calls," I say, laughter bubbling up in my chest so quickly that I snort, my hand flying up to my nose.

"You need to get on the internet more. There's a whole world out there. Terms for everything. One of the college kids said I was 'on fleek' the other day because I'm with it. I’m hip.”

I snort again, somehow unable to control myself. "So Bert is your booty call?"

"He certainly is. I'm not looking for a new husband. Carl, God rest his soul, was my great love in life."

"You don't think you can have another?"

"There's not another one out there for me. He was it. But I'm not going to my grave some shriveled up old prune who hasn't had any fun, either. And I don't give a shit what people think about it."

"What does all of this have to do with Killian?" I ask the question, even though I know exactly what this has to do with Killian. She’s trying to tell me, in her not-so-subtle way, that I should disregard all sense of reason and propriety and jump into something with him, even if it’s a booty call.

Opal shrugs. "I don't know. You figure it out. I'm just an old woman who rambles sometimes."

"Did Killian say something to you?"

"It was written all over him. That boy has it bad for you."

"That boy does not have it bad for me. And if he did, so what? Even if I wanted to date him, I have Chloe."

"I should make you pay me a dollar for every time you use your child as an excuse for not making a life for yourself."

My mouth falls open, and I shut it again. "I do not use my child as an excuse."

Opal just gives me a look. "Today is slow out front, and you have a few hours before Chloe gets out of school. I could pick her up for you, and you could take a ride up the mountain and tell that boy you're sorry for whatever it is you said to him."

"I'm the only one who's authorized to pick up Chloe," I argue.

"Oh, please. Call Amanda down at the school office and tell her I'm picking Chloe up for you. I've known Amanda since she was knee-high to a grasshopper. She knows I'm not stealing a child."

"I'm not dumping Chloe on you so I can run around and. . . do whatever, Opal."

“I think you mean do
whoever
.”

I change the subject. "How do you know it's me who needs to apologize?"

Opal laughs. "It's written all over your face, honey." She reaches into her pocket and withdraws a napkin. "Now, just in case you decide you want to take a little drive and get some fresh air, his address is written right there. It's twenty minutes or so, though, so I wouldn't wait around too long thinking about it."

It takes me ten minutes to think about it. "Fine. I’m going to apologize. But I'll be back in time to pick up Chloe, Opal."

"Uh-huh. You have my number if you want help."

You have a problem accepting help.
Killian's voice echoes in my brain.

"Another time, Opal."

"I love that little angel, so you leave her with me whenever you like. You know, if you come to your senses regarding that boy and you need some alone time."

I flip Opal the bird behind my head as I leave.

* * *

I
wind up the mountain
, half-afraid my car isn't going to make it up these twisty roads. I thought West Bend was a rural little town, but this is on a whole different level. I haven't gone out driving much around here, not with all I've had going on with the store, but now all I can think about is how much Chloe would love to hike through these woods. She drags me on expeditions through the woods behind our house, and we pretend to be explorers as we discover "precious gems" in the stream that winds back behind the property.

This is a whole different ballgame. This is the kind of place you go because you don't want any company. It’s the kind of place you go because you don't like being around people.

When I pull up in the driveway, Killian's truck is there but he's not outside. I sit there for a moment behind the steering wheel, gathering my nerves. Then I reach underneath my skirt and slide my panties down my legs, shoving them into the glove compartment.

I close my car door and pause for a minute, taking it in. It's a cabin – a real-life log cabin, like something out of a magazine, with a front porch that wraps around the entire side and a rocking chair perched in the corner.

I walk toward the cabin, my heart pounding in my chest. Part of me expects him to come barreling out the door brandishing a shotgun.

But he doesn't. He pulls open the door, a white towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping down the surface of his skin. I stand there, totally frozen, my eyes on his wide chest. And that towel.

Heaven help me, I'm so distracted by the fact that he's standing in front of me, naked under that towel and dripping wet from the shower, that my mind goes blank.

When my eyes finally meet his again, I can't tell if his expression is smug or irritated. Probably both. "What's wrong? Did you come up here to slum it with a filthy mountain man?"

If I didn't think I actually hurt his feelings before, I know it now. "Killian, the way I reacted the other day –"

He doesn't let me finish. He grabs a handful of hair at the nape of my neck and plants his mouth on mine. He kisses me angrily, and I can't help it, I moan into his mouth. His hardness is already evident through the towel, pressing against my leg, and heat surges through me, right to my core.

I don't know why my body reacts the way it does when he touches me, but I don't want him to stop. I want him to keep kissing me like this, hard and angry.

But he pulls back from me. "Is that what you wanted?" he growls. "That's what you came up here for, right?"

"Stop being an asshole.”

“
I’m
the asshole?”

“If the butt fits. I came up here to apologize, not to slum it. Not because I wanted to fuck you out here in the middle of nowhere." I pause, exhaling hard as I try to focus on anything but his half-naked body. "I mean, I
do
want to fuck you out here in the middle of nowhere,” I admit.

When he just looks at me silently, I plow ahead. "You caught me off-guard with the whole
go somewhere else
thing," I explain. When he opens his mouth, I hold my hand up again. "Wait. Let me say what I have to say because I want to get it out and the way you're standing here – wet, in a towel, and the way you kissed me just now. . . I'm having a hard enough time just
thinking
."

I think I see a faint smile.

"I haven't dated in – ever, actually. I married my high school boyfriend when I was eighteen years old. We didn't ever go out on a date. Mostly we fooled around in the backseat of his car and then he asked me to marry him and I said yes because I was young and dumb and " I swallow hard. "Anyway, I've never been on a date and I've never been asked out on a date and I definitely didn't expect you to ask me out on a date."

Killian narrows his eyes. "Why the hell not?"

"Because you're…
you
," I say, exasperated as I gesture toward him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

"You're grumpy and disgruntled and…come on, you're not really a flowers-and-dinner kind of guy."

Killian crosses his arms over his chest and all I can think about is flicking open that towel and letting it fall to the ground. I inhale deeply, practicing restraint. When did I get so dick-obsessed?

"Maybe I
am
a flowers-and-dinner kind of guy," he grumbles. "Hell, maybe
I
need romanced a little bit. Ever think of that?"

I can't help but grin. "Good to know. Next time I'll bring flowers. Maybe I'll wine and dine you a little bit. Then we can talk about your feelings. I’ll bring tissues in case you cry.”

Killian doesn't crack a smile, but I can see it in his eyes now. "Even when you apologize, you're mouthy as hell.”

"Want to see how mouthy I can be?" My eyes drop lower to the towel that's tented by his cock.