Hammered (Blue Bay Crew #3)- Cathryn Fox Page 0,40
I’m a little raw inside. Being back at the cabin is opening old wounds, just like everyone knew they would. “Tell me more about this apiary.”
“Nothing really to tell. It’s never going to happen. I’m not in one place long enough, and I honestly know nothing about bees.” Her eyes go wide, like she just had an epiphany. “Maybe you could start one instead of me. Right here.” She casts a quick glance around, her long curls swinging around her shoulders. “What a perfect spot.”
“Fuck that.” I give a hard, definitive shake of my head. “I take it you’ve never been stung?”
She shrugs. “I left them alone, they left me alone. That was the deal.”
I chuckle. “What are you, the bee whisperer?”
She whacks me and I let loose an oomph. “Smart ass. Seriously though, there is a lot of land and foliage here. It’d be a good spot for one. You know the bee population is declining, right? It’s our duty to help.”
“Then you should definitely set up an apiary, because I’m not. I’ve been stung at least a dozen times.”
“Well then, at least we know you’re not allergic.”
“Maybe not, but it still hurt like a bitch.” A breeze blows in off the lake and I push to my feet and hold my hand out to her. She accepts it and I pull her up with me. Her body collides with mine, aligns perfectly and her softness wraps around me. I like this girl. Maybe on some level she’s just as damaged as I am. Maybe that’s why there’s an odd bond between us. Or maybe there’s no bond at all, and I’m just a hot mess inside because I’m stepping back into my pained childhood. I don’t know, but I can’t deny there’s a strange new intimacy between us, a closeness I’ve never really felt before.
“Let’s go inside.” I try the door and find it locked, even though most don’t lock up in Blue Bay. But the cabin is isolated and whoever was here last likely didn’t want the locals sneaking in and causing mischief. The only ones who would have done that back in my day, was an Owens boy. I lift the planter, and find the key, thinking more about the apiary as I open the door. It helps me keep my mind off the last time I was here.
I step inside. Okay, so much for the bee conversation staving off old memories. The second I set eyes on the old recliner, propped up in the corner and yellowed from sun and age, I can see my father sitting in it, lecturing one of us boys about something or another. I blink hard and open my eyes again, but the vision is gone.
Haven’s hand on my arm helps me pull myself together. “Tyler?”
“Yeah?” I ask and needing a reprieve, I step back outside to grab our bags. I set them on the old wooden floor, and they land with a thud. I turn to her, and worry lingers in her eyes.
“What is it?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I guess for a minute there, I could almost see my father sitting in that chair.”
She nods, moves a little closer, until her body is touching mine in a gesture meant to comfort and asks, “You guys were close, huh?”
My trip down memory lane comes to an abrupt halt and I step back, close and lock the door behind us. “Come on, let’s air the place out,” I say, even though it smells fresh and clean. My abrupt change takes her by surprise, judging by her wide-eyed stare, but she just shakes it off and follows me through the place, opening the windows to let the fresh night air inside.
“How many bedrooms does this place have?” she asks as she moves around the small kitchen island and into the living room. She puts her hands on the back of the sofa, her gaze moving over the recliners and the wall-mounted television, coming to stop on the bookshelf with my mom’s old romance books—I guess no one could bring themselves to throw them out—and all our childhood games.
“Two bedrooms down here and one loft.” I point up.
She taps her chin and glances over her shoulder as I pull the curtains back on the last window in the living room and release the latch. “Which bedroom should I take?”
I spin around and find her grinning at me. “You’ll take the one I’m in.”
“So bossy.” She laughs. “Seriously though, eight boys.” She pushes