Page 49 of Small Town Firsts
“Might be nice for someone to have the correct story before they get the more creative one.” She shook me off, this time more gently, then picked up her glass. She seemed to collect herself while she had her back to me at the counter.
The clatter of something wooden followed by the hefty whomp of the knife sliding through the last of the pepperoni made me wince. When she came back there was an orderly display of meat fanned out on what could only be a mini charcuterie board.
She traded the board for the now empty frittata plate and set her wine goblet down before going to the sink to wash the plate and wipe down the counter.
Because she obviously needed the time, I sipped my wine, surprised that it was actually a lovely fruity taste. It didn’t really go with the spicy and acidic meal, but I knew a good wine when I tasted one. I was more of a dry red guy, but I’d definitely have to try something else from the winery.
She gripped the edge of the sink and I heard the tink of her rings on the stainless steel.
I set my cup down and went to her. Sometimes it was easier to tell a story when it wasn’t face to face. I slid my arm around her middle then eased her back against me. I nudged her hair back over her shoulder and dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder, waiting her out.
Her hand came up to push mine away, but I kept my hold firm. Finally, she relaxed against me and let her head rest on mychest. Her hair was silky against my skin, still damp because it was so damn thick. I slid my hand along the short hem of her chopped up shirt, my thumb sliding across the slice of her belly showing.
“Kaylee is younger than me. From the minute she realized there was life outside of Turnbull, she planned to leave.”
“And you planned to stay?”
“No. I’d been saving up to leave, but I like a plan. I’m not impulsive like…them.” It seemed as if she was choosing her words carefully. “I have a good head for numbers and can wrestle a budget into submission—just ask Beckett. I annoy the crap out of him. It’s probably more than half the reason he put me in charge of the Taproom.”
I breathed through the knee-jerk reaction to get pissed about how close she was with Beckett. I didn’t see them around each other a lot to know if it truly was friendship only. When I’d first met her at Lucky’s, Beckett hadn’t looked at her like a friend.
Whether that was just surprise because of the way she dressed or he had an epiphany was still something I needed to follow up on for my own peace of mind.
And that was my own bullshit, which didn’t belong here right now.
“I’m positive he wasn’t just getting you out of his hair.”
“Hmm.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Me and Kaylee went into business together since we were both good with numbers. Lots of small businesses in Turnbull suck at bookkeeping. It’s not a sexy talent and once people figured out they didn’t have to tear their own hair out over doing that and taxes—well, word of mouth got around and we were juggling quite a few accounts.”
“I don’t hear the bad.” And I also wondered why she didn’t continue to do that instead of working in the orchard. Physical labor was miles away from number crunching.
She was quiet for a moment. I could feel the tension ratcheting up inside of her as a moment became two and then extended into an uncomfortable silence. Just as I was going to turn her in my arms, she detangled herself from me. “Let’s just say she left me high and dry. I couldn’t continue and it screwed up my reputation. I let a lot of people down.” Her voice was rough and thick.
She grabbed the wine glass and went back to the table to sit.
Well that was that, I guess. There was obviously more to that story, but I wouldn’t press her to tell me tonight. It would only push her further away. Instead, I sat across from her and filched a pepperoni from the bowl. “So, sister that is a jackass, then.”
The harsh laugh was full of contempt. “Something like that. She left town and I haven’t spoken to her since. My bio-dad was never really in the picture and me and my mom don’t exactly do the family dinner thing that often.” She lifted her cup and took a regular sip. “Or holidays for that matter. She’s usually conning one of her current boyfriends to take her on a cruise or an all-inclusive resort. Until she ends up back in Turnbull when she gets tired of them or they run out of money.”
“Ouch.”
She winced. “Sorry. I guess maybe I shouldn’t drink any more of this.” Then she shrugged and lifted it to her mouth again. “Fuck it.”
I took the cup away from her.
“Hey.”
“If we’re going to get drunk, we should do it somewhere more comfortable. I didn’t see a TV in that jungle of a living room.”
One dark brow rose. “Don’t think one bottle of wine is going to do the job, even if I am a relative lightweight.”
“Ah, but the miracle of delivery is always to the rescue.”
She shook her head. “I don’t do delivery. Too expensive.”
Again, that money thing. It itched at my brain with all the jobs she had when I knew she made a good living at the orchard. A few more puzzle pieces clicked with the sister information, but tonight wasn’t about figuring out everything.
I wanted her in the now.
