Page 55 of Broken SEAL'S Secret Baby
When the last bite of cake is gone, I dip my head and kiss her upturned mouth. She tastes of chocolate, orange, and vanilla. Her hair smells like coconut and lemons.
I am on fire with wanting her. My world narrows to her mouth, her body warm against me, the light, willing way she molded herself to me.
“I think there’s some hay bales in one of the rooms,” I say. “Let’s go check them out, shall we?”
“Yes, let’s,” Kate says, hastily stuffing our lunch debris into one of the bags.
As we rise, a voice rings out from the front of the house, “Chief? Kate? Are you in here?”
We look at each other and groan in unison. I roll my eyes, and Kate covers her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“In here, James,” I call.
By the time her brother enters, we are decorously masked and seated on either ends of the picnic tables bench.
“I wondered where you’d gotten off to,” he says.
I look over at Kate, and she looks back at me. Her face is calm and professional, but her cheeks are aflame with color and the look in her eyes promises me everything.
Chapter twenty-two
Kate
I don’t know whether to murder my brother or die of embarrassment. Charles looks both annoyed and amused.
“We were looking at your new house,” Charles explains. “I didn’t realize you had made this much progress.”
“Oh, yeah,” James says. “Straw bales go up quickly. When I talked to Greg Jones about it, he said he wanted one, too, so I’m thinking about a whole row of them. Can you imagine, New England Arks in Kansas? Anyway, I have yours well in hand, too. We should be able to celebrate Thanksgiving in one or the other.”
“Won’t the rain be a problem?” I ask. “I know these work well in Arizona, but once those bales get soaked . . .”
“Well, I have to give Greg credit for this one,” James says. “If we surround the main house with sloped roof walls on the windward side, and greenhouse on the front, none of the straw bale walls will be exposed to weather. Anyway, we’ll stucco all of them, and the plaster will help keep out the damp.”
“The fireplace looks inviting,” Charles says. “What do you plan to burn in it?”
“Waste wood from the furniture factory,” James replies promptly, “and imports from Missouri where they are always going around clearing trees.”
“Good to know that we won’t be making hay sticks,” Kate comments sardonically. “I don’t know if there are enough sloughs in all of Kansas to accommodate that opening.”
“It’s not that big,” James protests. “I thought about installing an electrical display, but it just isn’t the same.”
“Aren’t you worried about fire?” Charles asks.
“Not at all,” James replies. “First off, we’ve put up all this nice brickwork to house the fire as well as heating ducts. There’s a space…come around here and let me show you…for a wood cooking range. We’re going for the Swedish ceramic stoves — super design, very safe.”
Charles and I follow James around the chimney stack into a room where the walls are already partially plastered. “You could host an army in here,” I say.
“That’s the idea,” James explains. “We aren’t going to be stuck with social distancing forever. Eventually, people are going to want to share meals again. The dining area in Charles’ place will be even bigger.”
There is nothing for it but to trail after James through the entire house. I have to admit, it looks like it will be comfortable and warm. Plus, I really like the idea of the attached greenhouse and self-contained water and waste systems. But couldn’t he have waited an hour or two before tracking us down?
“This wasn’t quite what I had in mind,” Charles says, when we finally get away.
“No,” I agree, my head spinning with RV values, recycling concepts, sanitation codes, and electrical generation. “It isingenious. But at the moment, I’d settle for a tent as long as it was just the two of us.”
“Tent!” Charles exclaims. “How do you feel about glamping?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “What did you have in mind?”
