Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance Read online

  "Don't sass me in the middle of my story," she orders. "What happened is that I poured my juice over his head at lunchtime. The next day, he put a frog in my desk. So I put glue in his seat. It pretty much went on like that until we graduated high school. He went off to the Army and came back four years later.

  "I was sitting on top of the dunking booth at the county fair – I wasn't even supposed to be up there. I was wearing a new dress and my hair was done, but my friend needed a bathroom break, so I was just warming her seat. Then Carl walks up to the booth. I know full well who he is and I warn him that if he dunks me, I'll have his head. The bastard grins and does it anyway.

  "So I climb out of the dunking booth and walk right up to him and I'm going to slap him across the face. Except that I've never noticed before how blue his eyes are. And he's not the scrawny eighteen-year-old that left for the Army anymore. I think he's the most handsome guy I've ever seen."

  "So you kissed him instead of slapping him and you lived happily ever after?" I ask.

  "Don't be stupid. I didn't slap him. I didn't kiss him, either. I did let him walk me home from the fair, though, and then I pushed him into the pond."

  I can't help but laugh. "And the moral of this story is, what exactly?"

  "Fighting is foreplay."

  "Fighting is foreplay? That's the moral of this story? This is a terrible story, and that's a terrible moral."

  "I didn't mean you should slap each other, good grief. I mean, unless that's what you're into. I'm not here to judge. There's a shop down in Grand Junction that sells riding crops if you need something to smack him with, though."

  "Stop, stop, stop!" I stand up. "I'm glad to see that your hip injury hasn't affected your sense of propriety."

  "Go make up with Killian," Opal orders. "Stop being stupid. Spank him if you have to. Or push him in the pond. But go fix things."

  I sigh loudly. "You're just as damn bossy and stubborn as he is."

  Opal laughs. "And you think you're not, sugar?"

  43

  Lily

  I tell myself to just text him already, but I don't. I distract myself by talking on the phone to Chloe and my parents, who pointedly ask about the bakery when I really know they want to ask about Killian, but I don't bring it up. Chloe is excited to tell me that she's having a "fabulous" time and that Nana and Pop-Pop let her eat cereal with marshmallows for breakfast.

  "Don't let her eat marshmallows for breakfast!" I warn.

  "You ate marshmallow cereal for breakfast when you were her age," my mother says.

  "She's going to be bouncing off the walls."

  "It's okay. Your father's going to take her out this afternoon. They put in an arcade in that shopping plaza over by the Chinese restaurant."

  "So you're feeding her marshmallows and letting her play video games?"

  "I want to stay here forever!" Chloe yells. "But I love you!"

  "Of course you do. I love you too, Chloe."

  "Oh, she just darted off toward the kitchen," my mother says. "I should go after her before she grabs that pan of brownies off the counter. You know, you're there all alone for a week. I hope you decide to. . . use your time wisely."

  By "wisely", she means hooking up with Killian, I'm sure.

  "Why don't you go grab Chloe before you find her covered in brownie on the kitchen floor?"

  "We're going to be back next week and we're looking forward to meeting him."

  "Mom, go!"

  The knock on the front door jolts me awake. Shit, how long have I been napping? I only closed my eyes for a second. I was planning to call the insurance company again before going back down to the store to finish going through and testing appliances. CJ over at the diner was thankfully able to help me unload the freezer and put the contents in her restaurant, although I don't know how I'll be able to use the inventory now. I might be able to work out of the house, or arrange with CJ to use her oven. Or something.

  The last person I expect to see when I open the door is Killian. He's standing there with his thumbs looped into the pockets of his jeans, wearing a faded brown t-shirt and boots, and the only thing I can think about when I look at him is the way his hands would feel moving across my skin, his lips crushing mine, his

  My hand flies to my face. I think the arm of the sofa is imprinted onto my cheek. I might have been drooling.

  "Get in my truck," Killian orders.

  "What? You're going to drive up here after a week – no, ten days of hearing nothing from you, and then tell me to get in your truck? No."

  "It wasn't a question."

  "I don't doubt it. I also wasn't joking when I said no."

  "Woman, just – do I have to pick you up and put you in my truck?"

  I cross my arms, my face flushing warm because I remember the last time Killian picked me up and slung me over his shoulder, naked, his fingers between my legs. He must see the expression on my face because he steps close to me and looks down at me, his eyes smoldering. I inhale sharply at his proximity, heat flooding my body. "Try it," I dare him.

  I hold my breath, my heart racing not because I don't want him to do it. It's because I want him to do it. Every part of me wants to tell him to pick me up and carry me straight inside the house so he can tear my clothes off and fuck me hard against the wall. We wouldn't make it farther than the front door, I know that much.

  Killian growls. "Just for once, will you not give me any damn grief? I came up here because I need to show you something."

  My heart pounds wildly. "Something with the store?" I don't need any more bad news.

  "Sort of. Just get in the truck already and stop making me feel like I'm kidnapping you."

  I roll my eyes. "Fine."

  "Fine."

  I follow him to his truck and get inside, sitting with my arms crossed and silently looking out the window the entire drive. I'm acutely aware of the fact that I'm sitting in his truck like a petulant child. But he's not exactly behaving in a less stubborn way than usual, either. So that makes two of us.

  "You passed the bakery," I point out as he drives a block further down Main Street and turns right onto one of the side streets.

  "I know." He pulls the truck over and gets out, pulling open the passenger door. "I'm taking you here instead."

  I follow him out of sheer morbid curiosity – and because his ass looks great in those jeans – as he unlocks the door and swings it open.

  "Okay?" I ask, looking around. It's an empty space. A gorgeous empty space with hardwood floors and large windows and walls painted white with just a hint of blue. And I don't know why I'm standing here.

  "What do you think?" Killian asks. He looks almost… giddy, like a kid on Christmas morning.

  "What do you mean, what do I think?"

  "About the space. It's pretty great, right? The floors are original, and the painting guys were able to get done so quickly." He takes long strides, saying something about the origins of the building, and I walk behind him.

  "I don't need a new lease, Killian. The insurance company hasn't even begun to pay for my equipment that was –" I stop short when he leads me into the kitchen.

  It's… fantastic. It's the most fantastic thing I've ever seen. The floor is black-and-white tile, and there are appliances. So many appliances. Gleaming, brand new, top-of-the-line appliances. There are even two walk-in freezers and a brand new refrigerator.

  "Holy shit." I'm practically walking on air as I race through the kitchen. "I looked at this fridge when I was shopping for a new one. Do you know what this is? It's like the best model there is. It's so fucking expensive. Oh my God. There's food in the fridge, and there's flour and how the hell did you find a lease with all of this stuff in it in West Bend? Who was in this store before? It's like my dream kitchen!" I take a breath, because I'm so damn excited that I must be talking a mile a minute. Then I stop short, directly in front of Killian, my heart sinking as I realize. "There's no way I can afford the rent on a place like this."