Out of This World (4 page)

I had no idea what he meant, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know. “But it's past noon,” I said, looking at the small cuckoo clock on the counter. “It's nearly four o'clock.”

Not seeming too concerned—and I had my doubts that he could get concerned about anything, even if his life depended on it—he shrugged. “You know what they say,” he said in that slow voice. “Better late than never.”

“Yeah. So who's upstairs?”

“No one.”

“But—”

“Relax, Rachel Wood.” He accompanied this with a pat on my shoulder. “You're here now, in God's country. Just take it easy.”

Easier said than done.

“Time stands still here, dudette.” His smile widened. “Everything's good.”

And with that, he was gone.

“Probably misplaced his crack pipe,” I said into the silence.

“I think it's more a bong-type love affair,” Kellan said, and looked around. “Truth is, this place isn't as bad as you imagined, Rach.”

“In what realm of reality?”

He shrugged. “If it wasn't so completely inaccessible, it'd be worth something pretty decent on the real estate market. Might still be worth something.”

Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.

Hoping
the same thing.

A
s Kel and I stood there in the kitchen looking at each other, still a bit shell-shocked, the back door opened, and in walked a woman.

She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, like me, and she was of average height and weight, but that was where her averageness ended.

She looked Native Alaskan and gorgeous; shiny black hair to the middle of her back, matching eyes and flawless, exotic features combined to leave
me
speechless, so I could only imagine what it would to do a red-blooded man.

I took a quick look at Kellan.

Yep, his mouth was agape, as if maybe he was planning on catching some flies. Any second he was going to start drooling.

Men. Poor, stupid, helpless creatures, completely led around by their penises.

“Um…hi,” the woman said, clearly surprised at the sight of us, but holding it together with a grace and elegance I could only admire, because I hadn't been given either grace or elegance at birth.

She held a small flowerpot in her hands, and she set it in the sink. “Who are you?”

“Rachel Wood,” I said. “I—”

“Inherited. I heard.” She dismissed me fairly quickly, then eyeballed Kellan with those midnight-black eyes.

Kellan stood up a little straighter, while I rolled my eyes, because I figured his chances of scoring with this woman lay somewhere between zero and fat chance.

Marilee moved with that beautiful ease of someone who had no doubt about how good she looked at all times, grabbing a glass and heading to the refrigerator. Meanwhile, I tried to see Kel as she did. He still had that perpetually messed-up caramel hair, a good part of it stabbing into his eyes, hiding their gorgeous color from the general public. Not “artfully” mussed, but neglectfully mussed. Tall and gangly, he carried himself with no grace or ease.

Right now, for example, his shirt was wrinkled from traveling, and also a little on the shabby side, as if maybe he'd had it since the nineties. Knowing Kellan, he had. Not that he was frugal. He was the opposite, actually. He happened to be one of the most generous people I knew, giving time and money he didn't always have to his causes, but fashion was not one of them.

Which meant he didn't always put his best foot forward when it came to first impressions.

Still, in the manner of clueless men everywhere, he smiled at the woman, one of those inherently goofy smiles men got when they were pathetically hopeful about getting sex in the current millennium, but of course didn't really have a chance in hell of actually getting it.

It wasn't that he wasn't a catch. Truthfully, I'd secretly always thought he'd make a hell of a boyfriend because he'd been raised by women and knew them inside and out in a way most guys did not. Kel would never, for instance, send a mother screaming into the night, fearful for her daughter.

The thought of Kellan being an asshole in any way made me want to smile. Nope, he didn't have a bad bone in his mellow, easygoing body. Not a single one.

A damn shame, let me tell you.

Apparently the stunning woman in front of us didn't go for the absentminded-professor thing any more than I ever had, because she dismissed Kel as fast as she had me, filling her glass with ice cubes, while my gaze locked on something in the still-open freezer.

Two boxes of Girl Scout Cookies. Specifically, Thin Mints.

Oh. My. God.

My absolute favorite thing on the entire planet. I'd run over my own mother for a box. Hell, I'd do unspeakable things for two boxes, and just looking at them, my mouth began to water.

Oblivious as usual, Kellan held out his hand to the woman, who shut the freezer, damn it. “Kellan McInty,” he said, adding his most charming smile.

Nada. No return smile, no sexual energy aimed at him, nothing. She did thrust her hand out, though. “Marilee. Cook and housekeeper.”

“Both? That's a tough job,” Kellan said in sympathy, still hopeful, because he was a man, and hope sprang eternal for men.

At least, between their legs.

Poor guy. He was heading directly toward Shot Down Alley, and we all knew it. At least, the two females in the room did.

A part of me knew that I should be wishing for him to get lucky. He was currently in the middle of a long dry spell sex-wise, which had left him feeling a little down and a lot restless.

Yep, the friend in me should want him to get laid.

But oddly enough, my belly twitched at the thought. I had no idea what that meant, because I
did
want the best for Kellan. I really did. He deserved it. Knowing that, I even forced myself to picture it—Kellan and this woman, arms and legs entwined…mouths doing the tango…bodies writhing…

They'd look good, this exotic woman and the man who would be a most amazing lover because he was passionate, tender and eager to please—

Something in my stomach pinched now. Odd, but the thought of Kellan having wild, up-against-the-wall animal sex physically hurt.

What the hell was that about?

But I couldn't dispel the picture of him having gotta-have-you-or-die sex, don't-hold-back-until-you-scream sex. Only suddenly, the woman I was picturing with her head back, mouth open, panting Kel's name was…

Me
.

My face heated. Other parts of me did as well, and I had to let out a low, careful breath and remind myself that traveling made me light-headed. I really should eat something.

Like cookies.

Marilee moved to the stove, giving Kellan a quick second look-see, and I had to fight the ridiculous urge to step between the two of them to block her view.

Kellan smiled at Marilee, and I knew that smile. It held a unique combination of careful caution and checked desire, giving out the message that he'd expect little because it would be a fantasy come true if anyone actually wanted to sleep with him.

Damn it, Kel, have some pride!

“My new creation,” Marilee said, lifting the lid off a simmering pot on the stove. With a smile that seemed to dazzle and daze Kel, she offered him a taste from a wooden spoon.

Of course he leaned in, tongue practically wagging.

“It's sauce for tonight,” Marilee murmured in a musical voice. “Assuming you brought the pasta I need from Jack.”

“That we most definitely did.” Kellan opened his mouth for Marilee to slip the spoon between his lips. Her own lips were curved in a confident little smile that said,
Yeah, I know how beautiful I am, but try to concentrate on my food.

Kel's eyes roamed over her gorgeous features, practically soaking her up, and I shook my head. Note to self: Men are easy.

Kellan swallowed the sauce. It took a second, but his eyes bugged out and he lost all the color in his skin, going from a pleasant tan to a sort of pasty white-green. A sound escaped him, the noise a half-choke, half-gag.

Marilee lifted her gaze to his, and he quickly sucked it up, even managing a smile, though definitely a weak one.

“Well?” she demanded, hand on her hip. “Good? Great? What?”

“Um,” Kellan said, more green than white now. “Delicious?” he said with a straight face that was pretty admirable, considering that the moment Marilee turned her back, he gagged again.

Men.
Jeez, you wouldn't catch a woman faking a damn thing—

Okay, so you wouldn't catch a woman faking
this,
though maybe sometimes we did fake other things.

“Glad you like it,” Marilee said with a composed smile. “I'll make sure you get extra tonight at dinner.”

“Oh. Great.” Behind her back, Kel looked at me in horror.

Like I said,
men.

“Would you like to see the rest of the house?” Marilee asked.

“Please,” Kellan answered quickly, clearly terrified that if we stayed, she'd want him to taste something else. He practically shoved her out of the kitchen, following her like the puppy he really was.

I pretended to follow, but instead executed an about-face and headed straight for the freezer.

I wanted a cookie.

Ah, who was I kidding? I wanted an entire box, all to myself, right now, now, now. I opened the freezer.

Damn.

Neither box had been opened yet.
Now what, Sherlock
?

For a moment I stood there, wrestling with my conscience. What was the likelihood that the owner of said cookies would remember he or she hadn't opened a box?

You are not that desperate, I told myself.

But I was. I
so
was.

I reached for the box, ripped it open and shoved not one, but two cookies in my mouth. Frozen. Chocolate. Mint. “Oh my God,” I moaned, and added another, just as the kitchen door opened again.

I whirled around, mouth closed tightly over the remains of the two cookies.

Kellan raised a brow. “What are you doing?”

I shook my head. Nothing. See me doing nothing?

His eyes narrowed. “What are you eating?”

I sighed. “Cookies,” I admitted around the mouthful.

He laughed. “You stole cookies? That's pretty desperate, Rach.”

“Oh really? You want to talk about desperate, lover boy?
Delicious,
” I said, imitating him.
“Please have sex with me, Marilee.”

He frowned. “I didn't say that.”

“You might as well have.” I shoved one more cookie in.

“Stop,” he said.

“Easy for you to say. You're a damn geeky bastard who doesn't understand stress in the slightest.”

“Damn geeky bastard?”

“Hey, if the shoe fits.”

He shook his head. “You can finish insulting me later. She's waiting to show us around.”

I gave one last, fond look at the freezer.

“Rach.”

“Fine.” I followed him out of the kitchen.

Marilee was waiting to give us a tour of Hideaway, standing in the foyer rearranging wildflowers in a vase there.

On the other side of the reception room was a great room, with an air hockey table and darts and a jukebox. “Keeps people from going stir-crazy in the winter,” Marilee explained, and showed us a small library and a laundry room.

From there we went upstairs, where we viewed four guest bedrooms on the second floor, then four more bedrooms on the third floor, which was reserved for staff. Each of the rooms had been decorated rustically, in a sort of country style, with pine furniture and four-poster beds. The floors were scarred hardwood, covered with a variety of throw rugs in different shapes and sizes. The place was in decent shape, each room sporting thick bedding, which Marilee assured us we'd need in extreme weather, and pictures on the walls that provided proof of said extreme weather. I looked at one photo of the inn, with snow up past the first floor, and gulped. “Yikes.”

Marilee just smiled grimly. “It isn't the Bahamas,” she said.

All the rooms were empty. No sign of the two faces I'd seen earlier. I looked out the window and saw a small guesthouse.

“It's Gert's place,” Marilee said, and took us out there. She stood on the tiny porch, long hair shiny, eyes fathomless, as she peered in. “Here you go.”

I gestured her in ahead of me, but she shook her head.

“Oh, no thanks.”

I walked in. Gert had the place stuffed to the gills with Victorian furniture and lace, lace, lace everywhere. Looking at it all, I gulped at a new thought.

Who was going to clean all this out?

Kellan followed me, and sneezed, his allergies coming to life from the weeks of dust.

Marilee still stood just outside. She hadn't moved or said a word, and yet her anxiety was palpable.

This, in turn, brought back my goose bumps. “What?” I whispered.

“You're going to have to deal with her things,” Marilee whispered back, and entwined her fingers until the knuckles turned white.

“Why are we whispering?” Kellan asked both of us.

Marilee just tightened her lips and looked around uneasily, as if the ghost of Great-Great-Aunt Gertrude was watching us from above.

Or from wherever she'd landed.

“Seriously, this is silly,” I said, gesturing for Marilee to come inside. “Come in.”

“Oh no. I…couldn't.”

“Why not?”

“I'm…busy.” Marilee stayed firmly put on the threshold, and given the stubborn set to her jaw, nothing short of an apocalypse was going to budge her. If that. “Besides, Gert never invited us in.”

“Never?” I asked.