Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance (16 page)

I
’m lying
face-up in Lily’s bed, her head on my chest, my hand on the small of her back. I’m in a bed with lavender sheets and a fluffy white bedspread and approximately three hundred pillows now scattered on the floor.

And I’m cuddling.

I exhale a low laugh under my breath. If any of my brothers found out about this, they’d never let me hear the end of it. I can only imagine the shit I’d get, especially from Elias and Silas.

Then Lily lets out a sigh, snuggling up against me, and I think maybe my brothers are onto something. I run my hand over her ass. Yeah, this cuddling thing might not be so bad.

“What are you thinking, caveman?” Lily asks. She rolls onto her side, propping her head up with her hand.

Aw, hell. Like I’m going to tell her I was thinking about cuddling. My gaze drifts along her naked body. “You know what I’m thinking.”

She blushes. I’ve taken her three times tonight, and she’s blushing because I’m looking at her naked. “I love mushrooms,” she says.

“Uh. . . okay. Is that a euphemism?”

Lily snorts. “I’m telling you something about me,” she explains. She clears her throat. “And I hate the smell of cut grass.”

“Who hates the smell of cut grass?” I ask. “That’s like saying you hate the smell of rain.”

“Rain doesn’t smell.”

“Of course it does. What’s wrong with you? Do you have some kind of olfactory impairment?”

She looks at me, wrinkling her nose. “Clearly, something is wrong with me. My judgment is obviously impaired.”

“Clever. I was hoping for some more witty rep-ar-tee, and it looks like I got it.”

She laughs. “See? There you go. Now you know stuff about me.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You love mushrooms and hate the smell of cut grass. Careful, don’t spill your guts. I’d hate to know all of your secrets so soon.”

“Okay, Mr. I-Hate-Brussels-Sprouts, what do you want to know?” Lily rolls onto her stomach, putting her perfect curvy ass on display, and my cock stirs in response.

I want to know about her dead husband. I want to know what made him a not-so-good guy. I want to know if she’s in love with a ghost. I want to know why she came to West Bend. I want to know what her life was like before. I don’t know why I want to know those things about her, but I do.

Except I don’t ask any of those questions.

She turns her head to the side, looking at me expectantly. “What do you want to know?” she repeats.

I trail my fingers down the middle of her back along the dimples that lead to her ass. “I have a very personal question.”

She looks at me, wariness evident. “A very personal question,” she echoes, her voice flat.

“That’s right.”

“Okay.”

“Pancakes or waffles?”

She laughs. “That’s your very personal question?”

“That’s not personal enough? Would you rather I’d have asked if you liked anal?”

Her cheeks turn pink. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“See? I know enough about you to know you’d have slapped me for even asking. Besides, I also know enough about you to know the answer to that question already.”

“You do not.” Her eyes are wide. “You can’t, because
I
don’t know the answer to that question.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” I lean close to her and whisper, my palm caressing her ass cheek. “But I also know the answer is that you’ll like it with me.”

“God, you’re arrogant, aren’t you?”

“Truthful and arrogant are two different things.”

“Yeah, I’m clear on the difference. I’m also clear on which one you are.”

“Back to the important question. Do you have a waffle maker? Sex makes me hungry.”

“I have a seven-year-old kid. Of course I have a waffle maker.”

I smack her lightly on the ass. “Then get in the kitchen and make me some waffles already.” I pause for a beat, putting up my hands in mock surrender. “Kidding. Don’t hit me.”

“You’ve come really close to getting slapped a couple of times, caveman.”

“Just trying to live up to my name.”

“Are you really hungry?”

I palm her ass cheek. “Very.”

“For waffles?”

“Not anymore.”

Then I roll her onto her back, my hands spreading her thighs, and I prove just how hungry I am – and what exactly I want to eat.

Afterwards, she lies on her stomach, stretched out in bed like a cat, her breathing slow and rhythmic. I think she’s fallen asleep until she speaks. “You grew up in West Bend.”

“Yeah.” I immediately tense at the thought of what she overheard from the catty old bitches at the bakery. The prison rumor was infuriating enough. Not that I care what the small-minded people in this town think except for this girl. I find myself caring what she thinks a little too much.

“But you just came back.”

“A few months ago. I left the first chance I could.”

She nods, but she seems to know to tread lightly because she doesn’t probe anymore. “I passed through here on the way to visit my parents with Chloe. They’ve lived in Colorado for a few years now, and I’d driven through here before, but it never quite struck me the way it did the last time I came through. There was just something about this place – how small it was, the quaint little downtown, I’m not quite sure what, exactly – but it felt good, someplace I could raise Chloe. When I saw the bakery was for sale… I had this idea of what a small town was like, but I didn’t anticipate how it would feel to be an outsider.”

“My family was always on the outside in this town. All of us – my brothers – got out of here as soon as we could.”

“Where are your brothers?”

“Back in West Bend.”

“Why?”

I exhale heavily. “It’s complicated.”

She’s quiet for a while before she speaks. “I’m not on the run from the law or in witness protection or anything.”

I laugh, too loud for the room, then clear my throat. “Yeah, I don’t exactly picture you being a criminal mastermind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I could totally be a criminal mastermind.”

“Okay, so you robbed banks and then came to West Bend to fulfill your dream of opening up a bakery. No – you were mafia, right? A mafia princess.”

“You never know. It could happen.”

“I take it those were some of the rumors about you?”

“Yeah. The kids in Chloe’s class don’t let up on her about it. I think they get half of it from their parents.”

“Is she getting bullied?” I clench my jaw, unable to stifle the feeling of anger I have at the thought. I know what it’s like to be a kid on the outside in this town.

“Not physically, but I still worry about her. Of course, Chloe took it pretty much in stride. She told them we were spies.”

“Clever kid.”

“She is.” Lily is silent for a long time before she exhales heavily. “She’s really perceptive. Which is why…” She goes silent again. “Chloe… she hasn’t really had a father around. My… ex… he died before she was born, so it’s just been me and her and she hasn’t known any different.” She exhales again, the sound weighty. “If you’re here in the morning… I mean, I don’t want her to get the wrong idea, you know?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, even though they shouldn’t bother me at all.
Holy shit. She’s kicking me out of her house.

Hell, that’s never happened before. If I hook up with a chick, she’s the one who wants to stay and cuddle and talk about her feelings and I’m the one counting the minutes until she falls asleep and I can high-tail it the hell out of there. That makes me sound like a real asshole, but in my defense, the kinds of girls I’ve hooked up with haven’t been the kinds of girls who’d really have that much to talk about, either.

“Right. Yeah. I…” I clear my throat, sitting up in bed. “I should get going anyway. It’s late.”

I sound less casual than I want to sound.

“Killian.”

“Yeah?” My back is turned and I’m already pulling on my jeans. When I turn around, her expression is pained.

“I’m – I told you, I don’t know what I’m doing. Or what we’re doing. And if you’re here when Chloe wakes up… well, she’s going to have questions that I don’t know how to answer.”

“Nah. No worries. I totally get it.” I kiss Lily lightly on the lips before leaving.

And I do. I totally get it. It’s not fair to climb into this woman’s bed the way I’m doing, with no idea what the hell is going on between us – and waltz into her kid’s life. I have a great life – one with no responsibilities, no accountability to anyone but myself. I like my fucking life – and Lily is smart enough to know that.

She’s smart enough to know that she needs to keep her life and mine separated. There’s no reason to confuse Chloe.

And why the hell wouldn’t I be happy to get laid, then go back to my cabin instead of cuddling and playing family man? I should be ecstatic.

Except that when I make it back to the cabin at three-thirty in the morning, it feels unnaturally quiet after being at Lily’s place – and not the kind of quiet that I like, the kind that’s usually comforting. This quiet is the kind of quiet that just feels. . . empty.

It’s the opposite of being at Lily’s, wearing a silver cape and makeup and playing the part of a magic dragon.

That’s the last thought I have before I fall asleep.

“
I
’m
off of school today, Nana,” Chloe says loudly to the phone.

My parents complain they don’t get enough video chatting time with her on the phone, which really means that we don’t call every single night before Chloe goes to bed.

“You have a day off? Today isn’t a holiday.”

“She doesn’t have a day off of school, mom,” I say loudly from the other side of the room. I pull open the refrigerator door and take out the carton of orange juice. “She’s sick. Sort of.”

“I have a sore throat,” Chloe notifies her grandmother. “And I had the sniffles. But they’re gone now.”

“I’m starting to think the day off school was a mistake,” I say over my shoulder as I fill a plastic cup with orange juice. I set it on the table in front of Chloe, standing behind her and peering into the phone at my mother’s image on the video feed. My mother is in her housecoat – not a bathrobe, but one of those oversized terrycloth dresses with a zipper up the middle and pink flamingos and hibiscuses printed on it. Her brown hair is still in rollers and she’s sipping from an oversized mug of coffee. “Where’s dad?”

“He’s outside. He decided to replace the fence on the far side of the house.”

“At six in the morning?”

“You know your father.” She rolls her eyes as she sips her coffee. “He’s retired. He has to have a project.”

“But a fence? Really? Does he even know how to build a fence anymore?”

“Of course he does. Don’t be ridiculous. You do recall your childhood, right? Growing up on the farm? Your father didn’t forget how to put up a fence just because we wound up moving to the suburbs when you were in high school.”

“I haven’t forgotten, mom. I’m just saying it’s been a while since he’s put up a fence.”

She waves dismissively. “It’s like riding a bike. Shouldn’t you be at the bakery already? I don’t like you working so much, you know.”

I laugh. “You don’t like me working so much, but you’re reminding me that I should be at work?”

“Just because I don’t like it, doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t fulfill your responsibilities. What are you doing today, Chloe? Is Bethany babysitting you?”

“I’m seven now, Nana.”

I snort. “Seven years old is not grown up, Chloe. You still need a babysitter. And yes, Bethany will be here in fifteen minutes. And then I’ll be going to work, alright?”

“You know, your father and I are only three hours away.”

“You’re four hours away.”

“Not the way your father drives.”

Chloe cuts in. “Come play with me, Nana!”

“Your father and I could be there by eleven,” she insists.

“She’s sick, mom," I remind her. "You and dad don’t need to catch whatever virus she has.”

“I feel fine!” Chloe yells.

“If you feel fine, you should be going to school today.”

“I don’t want to go to school!”

“You’re staying with Bethany. That’s all there is to it. Nana and Pop-Pop are not driving down today. You’re going to go to their house for a whole week when school is over anyway.”

Chloe faces the phone. “Will we have ice cream?”

“Of course we’ll have ice cream,” my mother assures her. “And we’ll go to the playground – and the pool. Oh, and our neighbor has a little boy your age, Adrian, that you can play with.”

Chloe groans. “I don’t want to play with a
boy
.”

“Since when?” my mother asks. “You’re best friends with one of the boys in your class.”

“He’s not my best friend.”

“You said he was your boyfriend.”

“He’s a friend who’s a boy. Like mommy’s boyfriend.”

I clear my throat, hoping my mother missed the last part of what Chloe just said, the little rat. “All right, it’s almost time for Bethany to get here, Chloe. Eat your cereal. Mom, I have to finish getting dressed.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to avoid this conversation. Who’s your boyfriend?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, mother. I’m not sixteen years old.”

My mother snorts. “I’m all too aware that you’re not sixteen. And that you’ve not had a boyfriend in about as many years.”

“Okay, this is not a conversation we’re going to have right now.”

“Who’s mommy’s boyfriend, Chloe?”

“No one,
mother
.”

“He’s a boy
friend
,” Chloe says, emphasizing each word. “He let me do his makeup.”

“Oh, really? His makeup, huh?”

“Is that the doorbell?” I ask. “Tell Nana you’ll talk to her later, Chloe.”

“Don’t worry – I’ll ask you about this
friend
later, Lily.”

“Goodbye, mom.”

I definitely don’t have a boyfriend. I may not even have a boy
friend
, either, the way the night ended with Killian. I didn’t want him here when Chloe woke up, sure, but I probably could have found a more eloquent way of putting it than the way I did. I need to read a dating book or something:
Ten Easy Ways To Kick A Guy Out Of Your House After Sex So Your Kid Doesn’t See Him
.

Having my mind go completely blank and then stumbling over my words trying to explain why I was asking Killian to leave was definitely not my finest hour. I blame the sex, though. How was I supposed to be able to rationally and clearly articulate anything after my mind had turned completely into mush? The orgasms made me stupid.

On my way to work, I glance at my phone. Should I text him? Oh God, are there rules for texting after sex? What’s that wait-three-days rule? Is that for after sex or after a date? We haven’t even had a date, so maybe the dating rules don’t apply.

Paralyzed by indecision, I just don’t text him at all.

* * *

O
pal hands
me an espresso the minute I reach the counter. “You look like you need this.” She rings up a customer and busies herself making his coffee.

“Mmm. Yes, please. Do you have anything stronger?” I’m not sure if I need several shots of espresso or several shots of alcohol.

“I think there might be a bottle of something behind one of the containers in the refrigerator.”

“You’re keeping booze in my fridge, Opal?”

“Only for emergencies. Although six-thirty in the morning seems a little early. Besides, I’d think you’d be in a better mood.” She hands the man his latte. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“Why would you think that?” I hiss.

Opal shrugs and blinks her eyes innocently. “I might have heard that Killian was bringing some soup to your house last night.”

“You
heard
.”

“It’s a small town. Rumors fly.”

“Rumors? Are you kidding?” I whisper. “How did anyone find out? Oh my God. Killian talked to you? Did he tell you?”

“Tell me what? That you two…”

“Yes, that we,
you know
.”

“Girl, you’d make a terrible spy. You’d spill your guts in thirty seconds.”

“Good thing I’m not trying to be a spy.”

Opal chortles. “That’s not what I heard from Chloe.”

“I need to talk to her about telling stories to her classmates.”

“Killian didn’t tell me anything, so relax. CJ told me.”

“CJ from the restaurant? How does
she
know?” Panic bubbles up in my chest. West Bend is really so damn small that everyone knows everything about everyone, isn’t it?

“She knows he bought soup. He went there for it. She’d already closed up, but she was there cleaning and Killian paid her extra to open up and get him some soup to go.”

“And she told you?”

Opal cocks her head to the side. “Child, I’ve lived in this town all of my seventy-three years. There isn’t anything that goes on here I don’t find out about.”

A woman interrupts to order a box of pastries and two large coffees. I pour hot coffee into the cups while Opal places pastries into the box. “That doesn’t sound at all creepy, Opal.”

“It’s just a fact, sugar. People are interested in who’s seeing who in this town. And that’s especially going to be true when it comes to you and Killian Saint.”

“You’re seeing Killian Saint?” the woman interrupts, her box of pastries in hand.

“No,” I quickly reply. “Of course not. No one is seeing anyone. There’s no seeing going on.”

The woman takes her coffee, eyebrows raised. “Of course not.”

“Not that it’s anyone’s business who I’m seeing or not seeing,” I say pointedly.

The topic of Killian doesn’t come up again until a couple of hours later when I’m in the kitchen taking advantage of the late morning lull to work on a cake. Opal walks through the door and stands by the counter, looking at me expectantly. “Well?” she asks.

“Well what?”

“You know what.”

“I’m not dishing details, Opal.”

“I don’t want details. I want to know why you’ve got a bee in your bonnet after boning Killian.”

“Did you just use the word
boning
to describe sex?”

Opal shrugs. “It’s what the kids call it. Because of the guy’s boner.”

“Yes, I gathered that much. Where do you get this stuff?”

“I told you. It’s important to stay current. You need to get yourself a little more current, child.”

“Chloe ratted me out to my mother.”

“And?”

“And what? She called him my boyfriend.”

“Good.”

“What do you mean,
good
? He’s not my boyfriend.”

“He should be.”

I distract myself by rolling out a piece of fondant. “No. He shouldn’t be. I don’t need some guy waltzing into my life – into Chloe’s life – and then turning out to be…”

“Like her father?”

I haven’t told Opal anything about Chloe’s father, not the details anyway. Just that he wasn’t a good guy. “Yes. Like her father, okay? Just because I slept with him doesn’t mean that he’s my boyfriend. Or that I want to get into anything else with him. It’s casual.”

Opal snorts. “Sure it is.”

“You’re the one who told me I should have something casual!”

“Yes. I was also in favor of you being less neurotic.”

“I am
so
not neurotic.”

Opal chortles. “So when that boy asks you out on a real date, a proper one, you’re going to say
yes
? You’re not going to second-guess everything?”

I stare at her. “I don’t know. I don’t even know that he’s going to ask me out on a date. It was awkward afterward. When I kicked him out, he was… He said he understood. But it was weird. And I haven’t exactly heard from him.”

“You kicked him out?”

“I wasn’t going to let him stay over and have to explain it to Chloe in the morning. I’m being a responsible parent.”

Opal sighs. “You know, Chloe would love to have a sleepover at my house so you could have a date.”

“I’m not sending Chloe off to your house so I can… sleep with my boyfriend!”

“He’s your boyfriend now?”

I groan. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m sure her grandparents would love to come down for the weekend so you can have some adult time.”

I laugh. “I’m positive my mother would be more than happy to do that. She’d also be more than happy to have me engaged to him by the end of the week.”

“That’s because she wants you to be happy.”

“I’m happy. Geez.”

Opal raises her eyebrows. “I’d think you would be happier, what with the boning and all.”

I pick up a hand towel and throw it at her. “I’m not talking to you about that! You need to mind your own business, old woman.”

Opal shakes her head. “If I minded my own business, you would have been as old as I am before anything happened between the two of you. Your vagina should be thanking me.”