As he loaded his tools back into the truck, I attempted to contact the rescue he’d mentioned. I guess without decorations or presents or family around, we both forgot that tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, so naturally, the rescue has its phones off until the new year. But after a lot of eyelash batting, Lucas agreed to keep the kitten until January, even though I’m leaving on Boxing Day.
After finishing up at the barn, both of us had stops to make in town, so Lucas parked his truck on the town’s main strip, and we agreed to meet back there in ten minutes. I slipped the kitten in my coat pocket—thank God men’s clothing always has such big pockets—and held a palm over her tiny body, heading for the small grocery store.
Speed walking, I crane my neck to see down every aisle in search of cat food, thankful for the obnoxiously loud 2000s pop music blasting through the store speakers. There’s no way my pocket isn’t meowing, given how hungry the animal inside it must be, but if I can’t hear it, neither can anybody else.
When my body crashes into somebody, I cuss under my breath and tighten my grip on the kitten.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” the woman says, gripping my upper arm instinctively to stabilize both of us.
“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying atten—hey, Cora, right?” I smile at the woman, instantly recognizing her from Lucas’s front porch. My hunch was correct: she’s stunning.
“Yeah.” She nods slowly, eyes narrowed as she tries to figure out who I am. Then a flash of recognition sparks. “Right, you’re the person staying in the rental cabin at the McKinney Ranch.”
Staying at the McKinney Ranch? Yes. In the cabin? Not so much.
“I’m Eira.” I reach to shake her hand with my kitten-less one, suddenly aware that she looks gorgeous and I’m covered in any number of disgusting things, hair probably a mess since I left mytoque in the truck, and I’m wearing clothes that are way too big for me. Lucas had to roll the bottom of the pants up five times this morning.
“So nice to meet you. How are you liking the cabin? The owner, Lucas, put a lot of work into renovating that place.”
“Beautiful place. The wood stove is a nightmare, though.”
She laughs. “If it gives you more trouble, I live in the apartment above the barn. Feel free to come find me, rather than Lucas. He’s growly and unwelcoming at the best of times.”
The same Lucas who insisted I sleep in his bed when I didn’t have heat? And who dragged me outside to make a late-night snowman?
I make a face. “He, uh… he already came over to light the stove for me once, actually.”
“Okay, damn,” she says with a surprised expression. “Must’ve caught him on a good day. His sister set this whole rental thing up, and he swore up and down he wouldn’t have anything to do with people staying there.”
“I’m best friends with his sister, so we… have a history, I guess. I’m not a total stranger on his property.”
“That makes sense,” she says slowly, suddenly eyeballing the heck out of the clothes I’m wearing, possibly questioning who they belong to.
“Anyway, I’m in a bit of a rush. Sorry for running into you,literally. It was really great to meet you, though.” I skirt past her and rush down the nearest aisle, pleasantly surprised to find it’s exactly where the pet supplies are.
Basket loaded with enough cat food to probably last two months, I meander my way toward the check out.
“Is that a cat in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?” Lucas’s breath blows hot behind my ear, making my cheeks warm.
“I know two pussies who are pretty happy to see you.”
He grabs the shopping basket from my hand, tossing a couple of his own items in. “Filthy girl, we’re inpublic.”
“City girl rolls in to scandalize the cute small town over Christmas. Fun new Hallmark movie, by the sounds of it.”
“Meh, I’ve been scandalizing this town for five years,” he says nonchalantly, tossing a bag of ketchup chips in with our strange assortment of supplies. “You sprainonekid’s wrist outside the corner store, and suddenly you’re public enemy number one.”
“What?” I laugh, clutching his muscular forearm with my free hand. It feels right. This moment. Him and I leisurely strolling the aisles of the grocery store like a couple, grabbing junk food so we can hole up at home for days on end.
“Long story,” he says.
There’s a noticeable shift when Lucas sets the basket next to the checkout conveyor. The oxygen’s been sucked from the room, everything falling still around us. After finishing a chat with the customer ahead of us—one that was lively and sweeping—the young, bubbly cashier’s expression turns sour at the sight of the man beside me.
Maybe she’s friends with that other customer, and that’s why she was so personable.
I didn’t even know the act of purchasing groceries could be awkward, but this is. Painfully so. Not that Lucas seems to mind. He appears just as put out and sour as the woman across the counter.
When he slides his card into the reader, I catch the eye of the cashier, and give her a slight smile, which she doesn’t return.
