Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance Read online

Killian holds up two paper bags. "I brought supplies."

  "What kind of supplies?" I take one of the bags from his hand as he follows me into the kitchen. Setting the bag on the counter, I pull out a bottle of whiskey, a glass jar of honey, and a lemon.

  "My grandma's recipe. Whiskey, honey, and lemon. Works for a cold or the flu – burns the germs right out of you."

  "You understand that it's my seven-year-old child who's sick, right?"

  Killian stares at me blankly. "Yeah. Whiskey helps them sleep." I gape at him for a second, mostly because I can't believe he really doesn't know the bare basics about kids. Then he chuckles. "I'm kidding, shit. There's chicken soup in this bag. The whiskey is for you. I do know enough not to feed whiskey to a seven-year-old." He pauses for a beat. "You have to wait until they're twelve, right?"

  I slap him on the arm.

  "Who is it, mom?" Chloe yells from the sofa.

  "My friend from the bakery," I call. "He brought soup."

  "Friend, huh?" Killian asks, standing beside me, far too close to be friendly.

  I clear my throat, trying to shake off the goose bumps that dot my arms just because I'm standing so close to him. "Friend," I repeat.

  What the hell else would we be? My mind immediately goes to Opal and her terms for her relationship with Bert: booty call, fuck buddy.

  Killian and I haven't had sex yet, so there's no fuck buddying involved. So we're friends. Just friends.

  He moves so he's right behind me and whispers in my ear. "Totally platonic."

  I swallow hard as heat surges through my body. "Platonic."

  "Platonic friends who are going out on a date."

  "Who were going out on a date," I correct. “We haven’t gone out on a date yet. And does going out on a date mean we’re not friends anymore?”

  He touches his fingertips to my arms, and I shiver as he traces them lightly across my skin. "Maybe I don't want to be your friend."

  "Hey! Guess what we're doing in math?" I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of Chloe's voice.

  In a flash, Killian turns and moves an appropriate distance away from me. "What? Tell me."

  "Subtraction. I'm really good at it."

  "No doubt," Killian says. "You're a smart cookie."

  "I know," Chloe replies. "I'm sick."

  "So I heard. You like chicken soup?"

  "Does it have noodles? I don’t like it without noodles.”

  “What else would it have in it?”

  “Rice.”

  “This has noodles.”

  “Does it have carrots?”

  Killian shrugs. “It has whatever CJ’s Restaurant down in town puts in their soup.”

  “Okay. Can I eat it on the sofa, mom?"

  "If you promise not to get it everywhere. I'll put it on a tray for you."

  "Okay." She directs her attention to Killian again, her gaze falling first on him and then me. "Why are you here?"

  "I was bringing you soup."

  "Is that your job?"

  "No, that's not his job, Chloe," I say. "He's doing it as a friend."

  She crosses her arms over her chest and surveys us. "So he's your boyfriend?"

  Killian coughs.

  "No, he's not my boyfriend. He's a friend who happens to be a boy."

  "Yeah. A boyfriend."

  "But not a boyfriend."

  "Rowdy is my boyfriend."

  "He's your friend. . . who's a boy."

  "No, he's my boyfriend. We held hands during recess last week."

  "You did what?" Did my heart just stop beating? My just-turned-seven-year-old is holding hands with a boy during recess?

  "Is his name actually Rowdy?" Killian asks.

  "Yeah. His brother’s name is Tuff. They’re twins. They’re both in my class. Mrs. S had to tell their mother that they can’t wear the same thing to school because she can’t tell them apart.”

  Killian glances at me. “You’ve got to be shittin’ me. Tuff and Rowdy?”

  “Language,” I warn.

  “You’re not supposed to say that word,” Chloe lectures.

  “You’re right. I should probably pay you a dollar every time I curse.”

  Chloe’s eyes grow large. “No way. For real?”

  Killian shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

  I shake my head. “You’re going to lose your shirt to her.”

  “Gross. I don’t want his shirt,” Chloe protests. “Can I watch Scary High?”

  “Is this a TV show?” Killian asks.

  I roll my eyes. “Don't even try. You know what shows you're allowed to watch."

  "Bo-ring," Chloe sighs. "Hannah watches it."

  "Well, I'm not Hannah's mom." Killian's eyes meet mine and I swear he's trying to hide a smile. "I guess you must be feeling better if you're so bored. And if the shows you're watching are so boring, maybe you don't need to watch TV at all."

  Chloe wrinkles her nose. "Are you going to read the princess and the dragon book?"

  "Yes. Give me a minute to get your soup and I'll be in there."

  Chloe directs her attention to Killian. "You could read it."

  "A princess book?" Killian asks.

  "She's not a lame princess," Chloe says. "She has ninja-fighting skills. It has dragons, too."

  "I think Mr. Saint has to –"

  Killian interrupts. "The dragon breathes fire, right?"

  "Of course," Chloe says.

  "I'm in."

  "Yes!" Chloe cheers. "You can be the dragon. I know everything the princess says in the book already."

  "You don't have to –" I start, but Killian is already following Chloe. He looks over his shoulder and winks.

  "Oh. Is this a dramatic reading?" Killian asks.

  "I don't know what dramatic means."

  "You're doing the princess parts?"

  "Yeah, like a performance. Let me get my sword. And my tiara."

  "Oh good. Costumes," Killian says, a tinge of sarcasm evident in his voice. I stifle a laugh.

  When I get to the living room with the soup, Chloe is perched on the edge of the sofa wearing her tiara while Killian sits across from her in an armchair sporting a silver cape.

  "Silver is clearly your color," I note, setting the tray with Chloe's soup on the coffee table.

  "Hey now. Dragons can wear silver capes."

  "We're playing, mom," Chloe says, matter-of-fact. "He has a silver cape because he's a magic dragon."

  Killian looks at me, his expression impassive. "Obviously."

  "And because he's a girl dragon."

  "Now I'm a girl dragon?"

  "You need a wand," Chloe says. "Mommy, you can be the queen. But she's under a terrible spell, so you have to lay down and pretend to be asleep."

  "Why am I a sleeping queen? That's not even in the book," I protest, crossing my arms, acutely aware of the fact that I'm standing here in a tank top and no bra.

  Killian looks at me. "At least my character is alive," he says. "Chilly in here, isn't it?"

  I look down at my shirt. "Shut up."

  "I can handle the dragon thing if you want to change."

  "Yeah, mom. Your shirt has a hole in the side, you know."

  I look back and forth between the two of them warily. Killian shrugs. "Or not. I'm a fan of what you're wearing right now."

  "I'll be ten minutes," I say, clearing my throat to distract from the flush of embarassment I know is evident on my cheeks. "I'll be right upstairs."

  "I think she'll be alright for ten minutes," Killian says. "She's allowed to play with matches, right? And use a hatchet?"

  I narrow my eyes. "You better be kidding."

  "Am I?" Killian taunts.

  "I'm not allowed to get near fire," Chloe says. "That can burn you."

  "Bummer. When I was your age, I played with explosives."

  "Killian!"

  He looks at Chloe. "Don't play with explosives."

  "What are explosives?"

  "Nothing you need to know about," I int