“Good.” It was all he could say while shoving another bite in his face.
She sat down across from him, staring out the window. “This will be my first winter in Brightwater. I’m excited. It will be a real Christmas this year.”
“You don’t miss the big city life?” Archer had mentioned she came from New York.
“Oh, sometimes. Mostly the little things, like getting salted caramel macarons delivered to my apartment door, that iconic skyline, or the lit-up marquees along Broadway. But mostly, no. Turns out I’m a small town girl at heart.” She propped her chin in her hand. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“It’s been a long time since you’ve been back home, huh?”
“Over a decade.”
“Your brothers missed you, you know. And while she might not say it, your grandma did too.”
“If that’s a joke, I’m having a hard time laughing.” He took a long bitter swig of coffee, letting it burn his inner cheeks.
She gave him a searching look. “I’m serious.”
He set down the mug and sought out his gruffest tone. “Look. Here’s a free piece of advice. You don’t know anything about me. I’m not the sort of guy people miss. I’m more the ‘good riddance’ type.”
“Well, I do know one thing.” She sat back in her chair. The smile playing around her mouth showed his brusqueness had no effect. “You and Quinn Higsby.”
He tried to keep his face implacable and knew he failed. “What about her?”
Her eyes softened. “I saw how she looked at you during Thanksgiving dinner and how you looked back. You two had more chemistry going on than the inside of a mad scientist’s laboratory. Pretty darn explosive.”
What was with this damn blush creeping up his neck, spreading to his ears?
Edie didn’t point it out; instead she doubled down like a bird dog during duck season. “You’ll need to take her on a first date, something where you wow her a bit but can still be yourself. What does she like?”
He knew what Quinn liked when he was pumping inside her, how she responded to a grinding rhythm, but outside of the bedroom? He cleared his throat. “She, uh, likes books.”
Edie gave a thoughtful nod. “That’s good. You’ll always know what to buy her for a gift. Plus, she probably likes to stay up late.” She winked. Winked? In that moment he saw how she and Archer made sense. She might be a little refined but was like chocolate laced with chili, all that sweetness came packed with a helluva bite.
“Just be yourself,” Edie advised.
That’s the problem. He was a grump, putting it mildly. Some would say asshole and he wouldn’t dispute it. The two women at the corner table, former teachers from Brightwater High, kept bobbling their necks in his direction. They must remember him from when he had been a student, at least in name. In truth he’d spent more time hanging behind the bleachers smoking unfiltered cigarettes and kicking ass than he ever did attending class. How could he focus on algebra or economics when that old restless anger took hold? Throwing or taking a punch was the only thing that kept him from climbing out of his own skin before he started smoke jumping.
But he didn’t want to return to those old fighting days, at least not with his fists. He’d rather fight a way back to himself, see if there was anything left of the man his mother would have been proud to call her son. Reaching out to his brother and getting a better-suited truck was a start. But he needed to go further. Be the guy who could try again, risk his pride and hermit life on an unpredictable and captivating woman named Quinn.
The faint light inside him burned a little brighter, heating his chest.
“Hey, I have to go see about a few things,” he said to Edie. “But thanks for the coffee, pastry, and kick in the ass.”
“I have some solid experience kicking Kane butt.” She smiled. “I’m at least a green belt by now.”
He pulled out two twenties. “You see those ladies over there?”
Edie glanced in their direction. “Beryl and Donna? Sure, they come in here all the time. They’re in that Chicklits book club with your grandma.”
“Cover their bill for me, will you?”
Edie eyed the money. “But this is way too much. All they had was a shared banana nut muffin and two—”
“Then load them up with a few extra treats. I used to be one of their students and owe them one.”
She smiled up at him. “Wilder Kane, you are a nice man.”
“Don’t let the secret out, okay?” Wilder rose, keeping a safe distance. Edie seemed like the sort who might do something crazy like go in for a hug. He might be turning over a new leaf, but there wasn’t a way to paint stripes over all his spots. Hugging wasn’t in his vocabulary.
Although cuddling was, with the right girl.
He stepped outside, shoved his black knit beanie on, and paused. The sun had come out while he had been stuffing his face. The mountains stood out in stark relief, rugged and wild. He’d lived in Montana for years but this was home. He took a deep breath, the clean, cold air filled his lungs, filling him with renewed purpose. Nature was its own kind of therapy.
A ray of light cut through the cloud, illuminating the new-fallen snow swathing the side of Mount Oh-Be-Joyful. He might be a physical mess, and together they were oddballs, but there was no doubt Quinn was a special snowflake.
He began to walk, slowly and with a limp up Main Street toward his 4Runner. A few cars might have slowed, but he didn’t look over.
Wilder Kane was back in town.
But maybe, just maybe, the black sheep would surprise them all.
Chapter Eleven
QUINN BLEW SOAP suds off her forearm with an irritated huff. She’d filled the claw-foot bath to the brim with hot water and jasmine scented bubble bath. The trip to the lab had been short, methodical, easy even, except for the fact the needle made her a little lightheaded. After they drew her blood, she’d had to sit in a chair and drink a disposable cup of orange juice. But since she got home, her plans to relax had revealed themselves to be rather ambitious.
She’d brewed three separate cups of tea and forgotten each one until they’d grown cold on the kitchen counter. Then downloaded an app onto her phone, some sort of meditation guide, but had been unable to focus. When the calm woman’s voice announced it was time to scan her thoughts, all she could do was visualize them sliding through a sieve, disappearing.
Her blood work was being sent off to a diagnostic lab in the city and the results should arrive back just in time for Christmas. She’d either be getting the best present ever or a lump of coal in the form of a positive Alzheimer’s prognosis.
This bubble bath coupled with the glass of pinot grigio on the window ledge was supposed to be her Hail Mary “feel better” pass. It might not quite be five here but it was somewhere in the world.
She sank under the water, holding her breath, hearing her pulse in her ears, seeing if she could make it to sixty. Once she’d held her breath that long down in the Brightwater River and Dad called her a mermaid.
There came a muffled bang. Someone pounded at the front door. She sat up, gasping, wiping the suds from her eyes.
Who’d be stopping by? Probably one of the Higsbys. Dad’s family was large, and God love them, they didn’t see the value in calling before coming over. It was rare for one of the family to leave Brightwater, so since her arrival she’d been viewed with a certain level of fascination, especially with regards to her old job. They wanted to hear about which celebrities she had rubbed elbows with, having no idea that her boss’s wife had essentially chased her out of town with a pitchfork.
She stepped out of the tub, wiped the fog from her glasses, and did a quick towel dry before slipping into her red silk bathrobe, the one that was fine in L.A. but, seeing as Brightwater wanted to give Narnia a run for its winter money, fell short of providing any meaningful warmth. She was freezing cold halfway down the hall.
“Coming!” she called through chattering teeth.
It was only then that it occurred to her that she didn’t have to answer at all. But she was programmed to respond. To people please. Even now. The thought grated her. Today had sucked. She’d just politely tell whoever it was out there that she was busy, had a headache, or—even more potent—cramps. Yes, cramps, good. That would send anyone scurrying away. She’d even clutch her lower belly for added effect.