only ever got a dusting that doesn’t last long. I’ve never made a snowball, or a snowman.”
“It’s on,” Sam says as I take a mouthful of beer.
“And by the way, a winter coat miraculously appeared in the closet. I plan to pay back the person responsible,” she says her gaze going straight to me. I look away and whistle innocently. “There is a third jar on the Credenza, it’s not needed.”
Sam, Jason, Cody, and Izzy exchange a look, and while I’m not sure what they’re scheming, I’m pretty sure it has something to do with the house.
“It’s not for the coat,” Jason says quietly, and pops a meatball into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything more.
“You know I nearly lost my left nut on a sled when I was a kid,” Sam says, redirecting the conversation.
I choke on the beer and it stings my nostrils. “Fuck, Sam,” I say, my damn eyes watering. “Couldn’t you have at least waited until I swallowed.”
“That’s what she said,” he exclaims loudly and groans sound from around the table as he laughs hysterically at his own joke. “Seriously, though, I was on one of those thin crazy carpets. You guys remember them, right?” We all nod, and he quickly slides one palm over the other, mimicking the way he must have been flying down the hill. “Wrapped my legs around a tree.” He pops a meatball into his mouth, and around it says, “Was in the hospital for a week.”
“Did the same thing,” Izzy says. “Damn near lost my virginity.”
Everyone laughs, and I slide a gaze Kira’s way as her words ping around inside my brain. She said she was inexperienced. I don’t know any women her age who haven’t had sex, but then again, I’ve never really met anyone like her before. Is it possible that she’s a virgin? I think she very well could be, and hell, I’m not going anywhere near that. I’m not the kind of guy she should give it up to.
We talk about winter activities, and the crew take turns telling her about the Pumpkin People festival, where pumpkins are painted to look like famous people, placed on top of stuffed clothing and scenes from movies are recreated. They do everything from Star Wars, E.T., to The Goonies, and it draws a huge crowd. Kira seems quite fascinated by the eccentric small-town culture.
We finished eating, and we start to clear the table when a soft knock sounds on the back door. Since we’re all accounted for, I have no idea who it might be. Sam pulls the door open, and on the other side, there is a young girl, maybe around the age of fourteen, standing there holding a basket filled with muffins. The smell fills the room.
“Is Kira here?” she asks, and all eyes turn to her.
“I’m Kira,” she says.
“I’m Amber McMurtry. We live down the road, and my mom made these for you.”
“Come in, come in,” Kira says as plates clank on the counter. She ushers the girl in and accepts the basket. “How very thoughtful.”
“Mom wanted to come and say hello, but she’s fighting a head cold and didn’t want to share the germs. When she’s better she wants to invite you over.”
“That sounds lovely, and it’s very nice to meet you, Amber. These look delicious.”
She beams up at Kira. “I helped make them.”
“Then we should all have one.” Kira holds the basket out, and we all take turns reaching for a big blueberry muffin. Amber has one, too. “Mmm, these are delicious. I’ll have to get the recipe.”
Amber laughs. “It’s Gram’s recipe.”
“Then I must have it around here somewhere.”
“You do.” She steps up to one of the cupboards, opens it, and pulls out a binder. “All her recipes are in here.”
“That’s where I got the one for the cinnamon rolls,” Izzy pipes in.
Kira smiles at Amber. “I take it you and Gram were close.”
“We were,” the girl says. “We used to bake and paint together.”