“You’re not the boss of me either, Adam’s apple.”
I laugh as I remember her calling me that. I don’t think she even knew what an Adam’s apple was. She heard someone say it and started using it to taunt me. Because even as a scrawny kid, she liked to think she could go head-to-head with everyone, especially me.
“Sit, firecracker.” If she’s going to call me Adam’s apple, I’m certainly going to call her firecracker. “You have to be thirsty from all that snooping. What would you like to drink? Soda? Water? Tea? Juice?”
She shuffles closer to me as I open the fridge as far as I can to allow her to peer inside under my arm.
She gasps. “That’s a lot of food.”
I wince internally. This woman is food-deprived. If her family is still as poor as they were a decade ago and she still lives at home, I suspect she doesn’t get enough to eat.
Glancing at her, I shrug. “I have five brothers, remember? We eat a lot.”
She looks up at me with wide eyes. “You said you have soda?”
“Sure do.” I squat down to see the bottom shelf better. “Cola, lemon-lime, orange…”
“Orange.”
I pull out a can and pop the top for her. “Would you like a glass and some ice?”
“No, thank you.” She takes it from me, tips it back, and downs half of it with trembling hands.
Shit.
“It’s almost noon. I was about to make a sandwich. Can I make you one?”
She shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m fine. You don’t have to do that.” Her gaze goes back to the contents of the fridge, though, and she swallows as if her mouth is watering.
I start taking out all the ingredients for monster sandwiches and pile them all on the giant island. “How about you climb onto one of those stools and tell me what you’ve been up to for the last decade?” I fully intend to feed this woman while we talk, but she’s obviously prideful and isn’t going to ask me for food.
She hoists herself onto the stool. It’s painful for me to watch. She’s too skinny. What I want to do is round this damn island and lift her up myself, but she would probably stab me in my sleep.
“Talk to me, firecracker.”
She smirks. “Like I said, that’s a stupid nickname. I’m not ten anymore.”
“Sweetheart, you’re still a firecracker.”
She sits tall with her spine straight. Her soda is gone. The can made a hollow noise when she set it on the island.
I turn back to the fridge and grab two bottles of water. I slide one to her without a word. “Talk,” I tell her again. My curiosity is piqued. I want to know what this woman has been doing. I’m worried about her.
The more I look at her, the prettier she gets. She’s like a pixie, small but so stunning. Her button nose is slightly pink. It probably always is from the sun. I hope she puts sunscreen on when she goes outside. She must burn easily considering how pale her skin is.
Now that she has tucked her unruly curls behind her ears, I can see her face better. Her lips are like strawberries, naturally pink and full. Damn, her eyes… I could get lost in them. I don’t remember noticing how blue they were when she was a kid, but why would I?
Her face is clean, and she has no makeup on. She probably doesn’t own any. Not if she still lives this far from town. The longer I look at her, the more I learn. Her clothes are old and threadbare. Her hair is wild, but only because she’s probably been out traipsing in the woods without tying it back. It’s not dirty.
She shrugs. “Nothing to tell.”
I frown. “Nothing? Ten years and you have nothing to say?” I tease.
“Nope. What about you? Where have you been? Where did you all go after the fire?”
Okay, we can start with me, but we’re totally coming back to her. “After the fire…” The one that took my parents’ lives. I pause, pulling myself together. It’s still hard to talk about. I clear my throat. “With Mom and Dad gone, my brothers and I went our separate ways for a while. Andrew and Aaron were already out of college and working for the family business away from the mountain. Adrian was away at his university. Asher took off to spend time alone, hiking the Appalachian trail. Aaric and I left for college that fall.”
She listens closely, nodding as though she’s memorizing every word. She was always an inquisitive child, an information sponge. I met her parents only a few times. They were bigger hermits than my family. But I remember my mom and dad talking about them.
