What the hell happened?
Chapter Three
Kira
I turn the shower off and grab a big fluffy white towel from the shelf. I have no idea why there is clean laundry in the B&B, or why the furniture is dust-free and all the wooden floors sparkle. The place has been closed up for nearly a year now—waiting for one of us to return—but when I entered, everything seemed pristine, the fresh scent of pine cleanser still in the air.
I can’t help but think Gram’s old friend Ralph Conrad has been taking care of the place in our absence. Ralph and Granddad go way back, and from conversations overheard, they hated Hooked as much as my grandmother.
I step from the shiny new four-piece en suite, a new addition since I’d been here last, and walk to my suitcase, grateful there is hot running water and power. Mom has been paying the utilities on the B&B but has been eager to sell it. I couldn’t get here before now, and after spending time in the place, being around Gram’s things, I’m hoping I’ll finally feel the closure, quiet the guilt that has been haunting me.
I towel dry my hair, tug on an oversize T-shirt until I can figure out what to wear for tonight’s dinner, and slip on a pair of panties. I’m about to unpack, but the smell of smoke swirls around me and clogs my nostrils.
Oh my God, no.
I rush down the narrow staircase. Smoke billows, but through it, I find Nate dousing our dinner with the fire extinguisher.
My breath hitches, and I don’t know if it’s from days of traveling, nearly getting killed this afternoon, or simply being back in my Gram’s place, but my throat grows raw. Folding my arms across my barely clad body, I hug myself, shaking almost uncontrollably.
What is wrong with me? I almost burned Gram’s place down. Stories, heritage, Gram’s collection of paintings—all gone up in flames because I put a chicken in the oven and got lost in my thoughts and forgot about it. My heart squeezes and a garbled sound crawls out of my throat as smoke fills the air.
Nate turns, his familiar grin returning when he sees me. “Blackened chicken, my favorite.” But the second his eyes meet mine, his smile drops, along with the fire extinguisher, and he steps over to me, putting a big hand on my shoulder. “Wait, are you okay?”
“Not really.” I blink hard, push the tears back. “I’m here to get this place ready for sale, and I almost burned it down.” Then my brain catches up, and I stare wide-eyed at Nate. “But what are you doing here?” I glance over my shoulder to the street that passes by Gram’s place. “Were you driving by and saw the smoke?” That must have been what happened. “Thank God. With all Gram’s doilies and sheer curtains, this place would have gone up faster than methane under a Bunsen burner.” I gulp. “Looks like I owe you another thank you.”
He angles his head, and his gaze moves slowly over my face. “You’re here to sell this place?”
Okay, that’s what he took from all that. I nod. “Yes.”
“And you think I’m here because I saw the smoke?”
I nod again. Am I completely off base here? “Why else would you be here? Oh, wait, I gave you the address.” I glance at the clock. “But you’re early.”
Nate goes silent as he looks at me, his body close, still invading my personal space. Dark lashes fall slowly over green eyes once, twice, and then, as if a lightbulb has gone on behind them, his lids suddenly widen. “Jesus, you don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
“Ah, you might want to sit down for this.”
I gulp, as an awful feeling settles in my gut. Nate steps back and pulls a chair out for me. I move toward it, but as I walk, his somber expression changes, morphs into something that I’ve never quite seen in a man’s eyes before. He clears his throat then turns away toward the door as he says, “You might want to get dressed first.”
I hug myself tighter. “If you have bad news, I’d rather not wait to hear it.”
Keeping his back to me, he opens the screen door and swings it a few times to clear the smoke. “Trust me, Kira. You need to get dressed. You can’t walk around here in just a T-shirt. You’ll no doubt be uncomfortable when the guys—”
“What guys?”
“Just trust me on this—you need to get dressed.”
His seriousness sends me flying up the stairs two at a time, and I hurry to Gram’s room and grab a pair of yoga pants. I don’t bother combing my wet, tangled hair. Less than thirty seconds later, I’m seated at the kitchen table.
Nate pulls out the seat across from me and sits. “That was fast.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, getting straight to the point.
He taps the pad of his index finger on the table and traces some imaginary line. “First, I’m sorry about your grandmother.”
“It’s okay. It was a while ago.” The canned response spills easily from my lips, even though I don’t feel okay about it no matter how many months have passed. He looks down, lines bracketing his mouth as he frowns and places his hands on his knees. I study his posture for a moment and get the sense that his words weren’t merely a courtesy, but that he really is sorry for my loss. I wonder if he’s had loss in his life, too. One that has cut deeply, still hurts. I touch his hand, and his gaze jerks to mine. “I appreciate your condolences, Nate,” I say. “Thank you.”
“I never met her,” he begins quietly. “But her stories live on. She was an amazing woman, from what I hear.”
I smile as tears form in my eyes, and the emptiness in my heart expands. “She was.”
“Did you know your grandfather well?”
“Not really. I was young when he died at sea. I have a few memories, but not a lot.”
A beat pulses between us then he glances around the room. He spreads his arms. “This is going to come as a shock to you, but I’m living here, Kira.” He glances down, points to the floor with his index finger. “Right here, in your grandmother’s B&B.”
I sit up a little straighter. Have my two near-death experiences today affected my hearing? “I’m sorry. I thought you said you were living here.”
“That’s exactly what I said. And I’m not the only one. Lots of seasonal fishermen have rooms here, as well.”
I jump from my chair. “Like squatters? Are you telling me this place is full of squatters?”
His lips quirk. “No, we’re not squatters.” He stands up with me, dips his head. “You haven’t been in the dining room yet, have you?”
“No,” I say and turn toward it. “When I arrived, I threw the food in the oven, which I clearly don’t know how to use, considering all I ever do is nuke food, and went straight to the shower.” What I don’t tell him is, after entering and seeing all things Gram, I needed a moment to pull myself together. My heart will need a soft blanket wrapped around it before I take it on a painful trip down memory lane.