out there,” Kayla offered helpfully. “Better places.”
“Maybe.”
“Think about it,” she said, leaning on my shoulder. “You could get a fresh start. A new beginning.”
My body softened a little at her touch. It was in a much different place than my mind, though.
“Do you have any idea what we put into this place?” I turned on her. “How excited I was to be getting along with Warren again, all the way to the point where we were practically brothers?”
She nodded somberly, looking somewhat guilty. I shook my head though.
“When we threw in together it was scary at first, but eventually we built it up over time. I remember our first break-even week. Our first full-time hire. We were just hitting our stride, Kayla. Taking in enough business to actually put some money away, rather than just pay the bills.”
“And then this,” she said softly.
“Yes. And then this.”
I stopped between the rusted-out hulks of two ancient cars; sturdy steel behemoths that must’ve been glorious six or seven decades ago. I’d seen Warren turn forgotten husks like this into gleaming, beautifully-restored relics. He saw beauty and value in things like this, where most people could only see the car-crusher.
“Warren and I spent a long time accumulating these,” I said gravely. “Some of them we inherited from Tommy, too. If we have to move, less than half of them will make the journey with us. The rest we’ll have to sell, just to cover the costs of starting all over again.”
Kayla stepped into me, sliding her arms past my waist. In the early evening darkness she melted into me.
“I’m starting all over again,” she said softly. “And I’m not afraid.”
I lowered my chin to gently kiss her on top of her head. Her hair smelled wonderful, like raspberries.
“It’s not that I’m afraid,” I protested. “It’s that I’m… well…”
“Angry?”
“Yes, that,” I said. “Pissed off, more like it.”
“Good,” she said. “Warren and Adrian were getting a little worried you were taking this much too easily.” She squeezed me, turning her chin upward against my chest. “While we’re being honest, me too.”
“When aren’t we honest?” I chuckled.
“Honestly?” Her seductive eyes flashed dangerously, flecked hazel mixed with blue. “Never.”
I bent to kiss her, and she was already on her toes. Kayla sighed softly as our lips crashed together, and her tongue explored mine. Almost immediately the clouds of worry and anger parted. The proximity of her body against mine made me forget everything else.
“What are you doing tomorrow morning?” she eventually asked.
“Same as always. Coming here.”
Her mouth twisted sideways for a moment. “Think you could give me a few hours first?”
“For you?” I grinned. “Anything.”
She kissed me again, this time slow and sensual, and with more promise. Our plans for celebrating the night out of town might be ruined, but my mind was already racing to form other, more intimate plans.
“Good,” she whispered, nibbling mischievously at my ear. Her breath was hot and moist against my neck. It was making me horny.
“Here’s what I need you to do…”
Forty
KAYLA
The coffees jumped and bounced in the holder beside me, the recyclable paper-pulp absorbing most of the drips that had escaped the purportedly spill-proof lids. It wasn’t the coffee’s fault, though. The gravel road was bumpy to begin with, made even shakier by patches of overgrowth and years of neglect.
Eventually the road opened into a wider clearing, and a long beige house came into view. The structure itself was a double-wide trailer with a worn wooden porch, permanently mounted on blocks. The entire perimeter was skirted with vinyl, except in the places where the ancient siding was cracked or missing.
I parked right beside Adrian’s motorcycle and followed the sound of hammer-blows around back. He was right where I left him the last time I was here, tacking up fallen trim pieces against the exposed fascia. He’d done a marginally decent job on the interior of the old place, but it had been abandoned for so long now he still hadn’t driven the musty smell from the air.
“Eight sugars, french vanilla,” I said cheerily, holding his coffee up to him.
Adrian smirked and rolled his eyes. “Better not be.”
He finished dismounting the ladder, then popped the plastic top and inspected the dark surface of his jet black coffee. After taking a sip, he nodded.
“That your first cup today?”
“Yes.”
“You’d get more done if you made a pot of coffee when you first woke up.”
“I’ve been up since four-thirty,” Adrian grunted. “I got plenty done.”
He was dressed in torn jeans and a faded flannel, over