Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance Read online

  “Holy shit. That’s pretty detailed.”

  "It's a good bit of work," I acknowledge, shrugging. "But I like it. It's relaxing."

  “Where did you learn to do all of this?”

  I shrug. “My mother made cakes. I helped her a lot when I was a kid, and then after Adam ”

  I stop suddenly as a surge of heat rises to my face. I don’t want to talk about my dead husband. Killian looks at me funny, and I quickly turn away to hide my flush, walking back to the counter and sliding my hands under the board the cake rests on. I clear my throat. “Employee-training going well?”

  “Best part of my day."

  I snort. “I’m sure. Can you open the freezer for me?”

  Killian holds the door open while I slide the cake back into the freezer. “I like a woman who knows her way around a kitchen.”

  Spinning around, I face him with my hands on my hips. “How is it that you say a couple of nice things and then revert back to being a misogynistic ass?”

  “I’m a man of many talents.” Killian grins, looking overly pleased with himself, and I realize he’s just saying stuff like that to ruffle my feathers.

  Well, he’s not ruffling my feathers, that’s all there is to it.

  “One of those talents must be getting on people’s nerves." I loosen the tie on my apron and hang it on the hook, glancing up at the clock. For once I’m not rushing like a madwoman to go pick up Chloe because I was helping out in the front of the store. That also means that for the first time in a while, I won't have to return back to the store after picking her up, just to finish a cake. I admit, that could be a perk of having Killian here.

  You know there could be other perks to having Killian in the store.

  I push that thought right out of my head.

  Killian laughs, the sound echoing through the space in the kitchen. His laugh is deep and warm, and it immediately makes me smile, like some kind of involuntary reflex. “I’ll grow on you."

  “Like a disease, I assume.”

  “Hopefully a sexually-transmitted one."

  “It’s such a turn-on when guys talk about growing on me like STDs,” I say, turning to leave.

  Killian pauses for a second, looking off into the distance.

  “What, no witty comeback?” I ask.

  He makes a show of shaking his head and refocusing his attention. “Sorry. All I heard was ‘it’s such a turn-on’.”

  I roll my eyes. “See you later, caveman.”

  "Later, cupcake."

  10

  Killian

  “You smell like…” Luke sniffs, the movement exaggerated. “Cake. Or is it cupcakes?”

  “What are you talking about?” Autumn walks toward the door, Olivia, beside her. The kid hides behind her leg and stares at me like I have three heads. I don't know if it's a kid or a baby. It can walk, but it’s still pretty short, and it talks, so it’s in that in-between stage, I guess.

  “It’s Luke." I shake my head. "Does anyone ever know what he’s talking about?”

  “You’re probably smelling that berry cobbler that you’re baking.” Autumn slides her arm around my shoulder and draws me in for a hug. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s the house coming along?”

  “It’s coming along.” I stand there awkwardly while Autumn beckons me into the living room, past the kitchen and all of Luke’s pots and pans on the stove. “Your place is looking good.”

  God, this whole making-polite-conversation thing is so awkward.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Autumn asks. “The contractors were really able to get it done pretty quickly after the fire. Now I can’t get Luke out of the kitchen.”

  “She keeps me barefoot in the kitchen, waiting on her,” Luke yells.

  The fire that burned the kitchen happened when I was out in Texas, the night Jed Easton came after Autumn and Luke and the baby. I still feel a pang of guilt when I think about how I wasn't here the way I should have been for my brother and his girl.

  Olivia tears past Autumn and pulls a plastic piano out of a wicker basket. "My piano!"

  "Oh, crap." June sighs as the kid plops down on the floor and begins pounding, producing slightly off-key notes at a deafening volume.

  Shit, is this what it’s like being a parent? Losing your hearing while being forced to pretend to appreciate your kid’s musical genius?

  “That’s …uh … loud,” I yell over the din of the music.

  Autumn sighs. “I took the batteries out of that, I thought.” She glares at Luke when he comes into the room with two beers. “Did you put the batteries back in there?”

  “What?” Luke's voice is innocent. “I’d never do something like that just to drive you crazy. That would make me a terrible person.”

  “Sleep with one eye open tonight, buddy," she advises, her eyes narrowed.

  “You should probably take her seriously." I take a drag on my beer. “I hear she’s real handy with a rifle.”

  “Liv-bug.” Autumn picks up a small toy house and some figures that look vaguely like plastic people with oversized heads. “Look at this! Wouldn’t you like this instead?”

  I take another drag on my beer while Autumn negotiates with her child, handing the toy to Luke when she successfully negotiates a trade. “Hide this someplace or get the batteries out of there. Or else you’re a dead man.”

  Luke laughs. “No sense of humor."

  “I’ll remind you to have a sense of humor when I buy Olivia her first drum set. Next week.”

  I listen to them playfully bicker back and forth as I sit on their beige sofa in the ranch house. This home is so unlike anything I ever thought my brothers or I would ever have. This place, with its white walls and whitewashed floors and airy curtains hanging on the windows, a trail of kid's toys running from the living room into the kitchen, is the opposite of the kind of place we grew up. Hell, I’ve never lived in any place like this. I feel as uncomfortable as I can, sitting here in my jeans and boots like I’m going to muck up all of Autumn’s nice things.

  It’s funny how Luke’s adapted to this life, I think as I watch Autumn looks up at him lovingly before he wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her tight against him. It’s like he was always meant to be here.

  For a split second, I feel a pang of jealousy.

  “Luke made hors d'ouvres.” Autumn's voice breaks through my thoughts.

  I look at Luke. “Well, la-de-dah. Are we having tea with the Queen, too?”

  “Keep talking and you’ll get nothing," Luke says. "They're bacon-wrapped jalapenos."

  “Could you keep an eye on Olivia for just a second, Killian?” Autumn asks. She turns around and follows Luke into the kitchen without waiting for my response.

  “Uh…” I eyeball the kid who is attempting to shove one of the plastic people into the chimney on top of the house where it clearly doesn't fit. She becomes increasingly upset and smashes the figure against the house a few times, finally stopping when she looks up and notices that Autumn and Luke aren't in the room. She eyes me warily.

  “So …” I hope she doesn’t move. Or cry. That would be bad. After I returned to West Bend, I came over here for dinner once before, at Autumn’s insistence, but they didn’t leave me alone in a room with the kid.

  Olivia points at an inflatable plastic ball beside the sofa. "My ball."

  "Yep. Your ball," I repeat. So what am I supposed to do here? Do I talk to the kid like we’re having a normal conversation?

  “Ball!” she yells, louder and more insistent this time.

  “Yeah, dude, I get it. Ball.” I hold it up to her. “Do you want me to throw it?”

  She claps and tries to grab for the ball. “Yes. Throw ball!”

  Alright, I can do this. I toss the ball gently to her, but she drops it and it rolls across the floor. She stares at me for a moment, her expression indignant. Then her eyes well up with tears.

  Oh shit.

  And she starts wailing, screaming and flailing her arms wildly lik