I shivered as he ducked out from under the pine boughs while pulling out his gloves and putting them back on, and I was torn between cursing and laughing, so I did both. When we were back out in the sunshine, I couldn’t look him in the eye. I followed him until we were on the flagstone path again, then walked close enough that my shoulder almost bumped his arm. Biting my lip, I glanced up at him, and with a burst of courage that almost had my stomach turning, I clasped his fingers with mine. For a second I nearly died because he did nothing back, but then he moved and squeezed my hand.
I gave him a big obnoxious wink—because why not—but he only shook his head and held my hand tighter. I did a mental victory dance, although I wasn’t sure what war I was winning. What did I want with him?
Before I could figure myself out or make any rash decisions to ask Aspen to drive somewhere and fuck me in my car, we were back at the bed-and-breakfast. My breath caught the same way it had the day I’d first arrived. There was nothing quite like this place in New York City, or at least, not that I’d ever seen. The Victorian was three stories—four if you counted the turret on the ocean side that stuck up higher than the rest of the house and made the round room we were all sharing. The white shingle siding was so crisp and clean you could barely see the snow that gathered in the corner between the black roof and the walls, and the stark black decorative trim made the architectural lines stand out like they were part of a painting. It was easy to see why Aspen loved it here.
There was more than one path, and the one we traveled dumped us out along the side of the house near the parking lot. Cillian’s black Ford Expedition sat next to my flawless silver Spyder, and I held in a sigh when Aspen nodded in that direction. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see Vail and the others, but now my time with Aspen was done. He’d focus on Vail and Cillian, and I’d be left wondering what I could do to get his attention. I squeezed his hand and the corner of his lips tilted upward as we climbed the front porch steps.
When we got inside, we stripped off our winter gear and hung it up, then found the guys in a formal sitting room near the dining room. The couches, fancy chairs, and curtains were all blue velvet, and the gold theme used for the rest of the furniture made the space look like something out of one of those TV shows about royalty in the olden days. Vail bounded up to Aspen and me with red takeout coffee cups, his full pink lips turned up in a cute grin and his dark blond hair everywhere. The perfect cut of the gray wool suit that clung to his body made me stare at his waist and thighs, and I tweaked his red bow tie as I pushed a few strands of hair back off his forehead. He leaned into my touch, smile burning hotter. As much as I loved Aspen being taller than me, I also liked that Vail and I were close in size. Somehow it made him seem even friendlier than he was already.
“They’re mint mochas. There’s this tiny place that makes delicious coffee about three miles down the road, and they have so many paintings!”
Aspen nodded, his attention going directly to Vail’s excited brown eyes.
I took my cup and kissed Vail’s cheek, which was warm, and his lips were so beautiful I pressed a kiss to them, too. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He brushed another kiss to my lips and happiness rushed through me. Yeah, I was worried about Aspen, but we both had Vail. It wasn’t as scary to be wondering about being with Aspen because, no matter what, I wouldn’t be alone. I’d probably feel sick over the situation otherwise.
Vail moved away into Rowen’s arms, and Aspen elbowed me lightly. I forced a smirk. Rowen rested his cheek against the side of Vail’s head, his red hair combed straight back and flashing brilliantly as he moved around to hug Vail tighter. His suit was a shade darker than Vail’s, and they looked good together. Rowen wasn’t much taller than Vail, but Rowen had enough height on him that he ended up hunching to hold Vail close. Somehow his reddish-blond beard seemed soft pressed to Vail’s smooth cheek. How did his beard feel against bare skin like that? I shivered and chased away the thought.
“Yeah, thanks, little doc,” Aspen said.
“You’re welcome, too! The Corinthian Harbor Historical Society Museum was closed, so we didn’t get to go in.” Vail pouted as only he could.
“I’m sorry, angel.” Rowen hugged him, apologizing as if he’d personally called the historical society up and asked them to close to make Vail sad. I wanted to roll my eyes, but Rowen so clearly loved Vail and it was nice he cared.
Cillian raised his coffee toward us, or rather Aspen, in a salute, and his long nose wrinkled a bit as he squinted with a smile. Even though Cillian was on vacation, he’d put on a dark gray winter suit, too. Maybe it was habit from working for the boss? Mr. Killough demanded all the men in the Killough Company look respectable. The hard angles of Cillian’s face were prominent because he’d trimmed his beard recently, and his dark brown hair had been combed back in a style similar to Rowen’s. I’d learned not to get trapped staring into his intense brown eyes a long time ago, but this morning I looked since he wasn’t paying attention to me. He usually ignored me when he could.
“Aye, so we drove around looking for Stephen King’s house.” Cillian shrugged.
“I don’t think he lives there anymore, but he had a house in Bangor, which is pretty far from here.”
Cillian blinked at Aspen. “Ye actually know where he lives?”
“Well, yeah. Everyone in Maine knows each other. Didn’t you realize?” He kept his face smooth, completely deadpan, and Cillian huffed and waved a hand at him, taking a sip of his coffee. I snickered and got another nudge of Aspen’s elbow that had warmth swirling in my stomach.
Aspen walked over and lifted Rowen’s wrist to eye up his new watch. For some reason Rowen had stopped wearing the only other timepiece I’d ever seen on him, and when I’d asked about it, he’d told me it wasn’t any of my business.
“Ye could’ve asked,” Rowen snarked, but he let himself be moved around.
“Come on. We better help Auntie Lisa or we’ll be getting a high-heeled boot on the ass from her.”
Cillian finished his coffee in one long swallow and tossed the cup in a nearby trash can. “We could pay for our stay, mate, if it’s a hassle.”
Aspen took a deep breath. He’d been talking more since Vail came to stay with us, and I could usually tell when he was gearing up for his version of a lengthy speech. He cleared his throat and glanced at each of us in turn. “That’s not how this works. One, she wouldn’t take your money because you’re here with me. If she did? You’d still have to work because you’re here with me.” He cracked a smile, and Cillian groaned.
“Aye, feckin’ family.”
“Mm-hmm,” Aspen said.
Perking up, I chugged my coffee. Usually I didn’t worry too much about what I ate because of the insulin pump, but I could tell by the syrupy sweetness it was more sugar than I normally had at one time. Trying not to worry about it, I tossed my cup in the trash, too.
“What do you need me to do?” Aspen eyed me up. Could he tell I wanted to do something to make him happy with me? Oh well, what if he could? “I’ll do whatever,” I mumbled.
“Go upstairs, we’ll hit each floor. Knock first, but if no one answers, go inside each room and strip the beds. The rest of us will make them and replace towels. I showed you where the washers and dryers are yesterday.”
Nodding fast, I shot out of the room and up the perfectly polished walnut staircase to do what he’d said. When I had an armful of blankets, I went through the kitchen and down to the basement. The washers and dryers lived in one corner, and the heavy-duty machines were already chugging along, so I made several trips and tossed the used linens into a bin down there to wait their turn. As I made my rounds, I felt sick to my stomach and a little woozy, but I didn’t want to stop to check my blood sugar. I ran old towels down to the basement and had to stop to rest my hand on the washer. The vibrations traveled up my arm and made my head rattle. Cursing, I went upstairs to get my testing bag in the interesting round bedroom I’d been sharing with Aspen, Vail, Cillian, and Rowen. It sucked that I didn’t feel well enough to appreciate the view from the port windows.
It was a pain in the ass to get everything out of the bag I kept it in. After I had the kit spread out alongside me on the relaxing ocean-blue comforter that reminded me of my room at home, I sat on the bed and pricked my finger to check my blood sugar. Irritated, I jammed the piece of plastic in the reader. My numbers came back within the normal range, which was frustrating. Maybe I hadn’t slept enough? Maybe I had something else going on? Fuck, maybe I had a lingering concussion. Who knew? As I packed away my stuff, I tried not to get angry the way I often did at times like this.
