Home Town, page 5
part #1 of The Long Road Home Series
Her mother had gone all out for the two temporary houseguests. Why would they ever want to leave? If Josie had a less complicated relationship with her parents and this town, she never would have left herself.
She set the cat down on the kitchen floor with an exhale as her heart continued to pound from the near catastrophe.
Cat-astrophe. Ha! That was funny.
Too bad she couldn’t post it on her Insta with a picture of the two villains. Her parents might see and then know she probably wasn’t the best person to have put in charge of cat sitting two kittens.
Two kittens. Uh, oh. Where was the other one?
They always hung out together. Partners in crime…and in sleep. They were rarely apart. But she’d only seen once since coming in the door.
Holy shit! Had the second one slipped outside and she hadn’t seen?
Oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god.
“Psss, psss, psss. Here kitty, kitty. Jelly, where are you?” she called while Peanut Butter looked on expectantly.
No answer. Crap. Had it gotten out for real? Slipped past her when she’d been grabbing the other one?
Oh no. This was a disaster.
The tiniest meow penetrated her panic. She froze, eyes wide, ears honed to listen for the sound again.
“Psss, psss, psss. Here, kitty, kitty,” she repeated.
Meow.
That had definitely come from inside this room. She could tell that even with as muffled as the sound was.
“Did you get inside the cabinet, you little devil?” Relieved, Josie strode toward the wall of kitchen cupboards.
She opened first one, then the next. The search excited Peanut Butter, who took it as an invitation to explore inside but didn’t yield the missing Jelly.
The kitten’s cry repeated again, this time with accompanying scratching. She was starting to run out of cupboards to check.
“Where are you?” Josie squatted down and flung open the two doors beneath the sink and watched in horror as Peanut Butter dove inside then disappeared through a small hole in the back wall cut out to accommodate the water pipes.
“Holy shit. Oh no. No, no. This is bad. So bad.”
Now both cats were inside the walls. They could be lost in there forever.
Panic had her glancing around her in search of anything that might help.
Food! They loved to eat.
She grabbed the box of the kitten’s dry kibble and shook the contents loudly near the opening. “Here, kitty, kitty. Want to eat? Food.”
Nothing. Not even a cry. They were too happy exploring to care about eating.
Or worse, they’d traveled through the walls. Too far to hear her. Too far for her to hear them. They could be trapped there!
What if she couldn’t get them out? With no food or water they’d die slowly and horribly inside the walls of the house.
She couldn’t let that happen. She had to do something.
“Shit-shit-shit-shit!” In full panic mode now she ran out the back door, chanting her four-letter-word-mantra the whole way to the garage.
Her father must have every tool known to man. He had to have something she could use to cut open that wall and get those kittens out.
Opening the garage door she flipped on the light and stared at the choices on the tool bench and those hanging on the pegboard wall behind it. She could do this. But she’d better do it fast before they got any farther.
Striding ahead she grabbed the first tool that looked like it could cut a hole, even though it looked scary.
She glanced down at the circular saw she’d snagged for ninety-nine dollars on an Early Bird Black Friday sale for her father’s Christmas gift one year. She’d lied and told Quinn it had cost two-hundred and his share was a hundred so she hadn’t had to pay anything but the tax. Considering she’d gotten up at four-thirty in the morning to wait on a long line to get it, she didn’t feel guilty about that at all.
Now she wished Quinn were here. The teeth of the blade were scary-sharp.
God, this could end in a disaster the level of which belonged in a horror movie.
She could cut a kitten in half trying to use this thing on the wall when she couldn’t see what was on the other side. She could slip and cut off her own fingers too.
Putting down the circular saw and its horrifying rotating blade of death, she picked up another tool. This one smaller. A jigsaw maybe? She remembered some of the things she’d learned in shop class and from watching home renovation shows.
The short straight single blade looked less deadly, but it still could do damage to the kittens if she cut into a wall blindly not knowing if they were on the other side.
Nope. Too scary. She put it down and admitted she really had no business using any power tools.
She perused the selections hanging on the wall, plucking off a claw hammer instead.
That might work better. She could knock a hole in the wall. Then pry off the wood and sheetrock to make it bigger. Big enough she could get a flashlight and her head inside and see what kind of situation she was dealing with.
Then, once she could see, use one of the power tools. She put the hammer in her other hand and reached for a different kind of saw, with a single less deadly looking blade.
This was going to make an unholy mess. She’d worry later about how to fix it before her parents got home.
With her tools of choice in hand, she spun to leave and came face-to-face with Corey, standing in the open doorway and blocking her exit from the garage.
She stopped dead in her tracks. “What are you doing?”
Was he stalking her? Was he delusional enough to think she’d be up for a booty call all these years later?
“What are you doing?” he asked, turning the question back on her.
“That’s none of your business,” she said, hand with the hammer in it planted on her hip for effect. “Why are you watching me anyway?”
Corey let out a scoff. “I wasn’t watching you. I was taking out the trash for Mom when I heard you cussing your way to the garage and then pawing through your dad’s tools. I figured something must be wrong and you might need help. But you’re right. None of my business.”
He turned to go and she bit out one more silent cuss. She could use his help. She remembered him and his father building a tree house in the backyard. Corey actually knew how to safely use all the tools she had absolutely no experience with.
She hated to do it. Hated herself and hated him too. But she had to. She had to ask for help.
It took more strength than she knew she had but she forced out one word. “Wait.”
Corey turned back, one dark brow cocked high.
“I might…need… help,” she revealed in a stuttering admission before she changed her mind about accepting his help—and before the kittens made it any deeper into the bowels of the walls of the house.
Chapter Ten
Josie Baldwin. Corey shook his head.
She was as stubborn as they came.
That had been obvious to him for all the years they’d grown up next door to each other. He’d seen her plant her hands on her hips, lift her chin, and stand up to her big brother Quinn as if he weren’t three years older and a good foot taller.
It was more than obvious now as she glared at him while he was trying to help her. And she clearly needed help.
“What happened?” he asked, even though she looked like she’d rather do anything other than tell him. Even try to tackle the array of power tools scattered around her in the garage.
She belted the problem at him in one, long, rapid fire run-on sentence.
When she finished, she pressed her lips together and let out a huff accompanied by a frown.
Ignoring that she was still inexplicably angry at him, or herself, or perhaps just the cats she’d mentioned in her diatribe, he reviewed the situation.
From what he could decipher, it involved kittens and walls and possible death.
Although her story had been all over the place. He wasn’t sure if it was the kittens’ possibly impending death or her own when her parents got home and killed her for screwing up that had her so upset. Possibly both.
He glanced down at the reciprocating saw she held in one hand, in addition to the other tools she’d piled on the workbench, including a circular saw. He imagined its wheel of deadly sharp teeth wielded in her hands.
At least she hadn’t tried to use the chainsaw. It still sat in its place high on the shelf above them. Perhaps she just couldn’t reach it. She seemed ready to try anything.
They might actually need some of those tools later, but for now, he figured they’d start small. With some manual, less damaging, non-power tools.
“How about we put the sharp things down and look for a less destructive alternative?” he suggested.
With a huff she set down the reciprocating saw.
“Good girl,” he said, taking the hammer from her hand and picking up a crowbar from the bench.
When he glanced up he saw a renewed, hotter than usual hatred in the glare she sent him from between narrowed eyes.
He frowned. What had he done now? Whatever it was, she didn’t like it.
In what he hoped would be a calming voice, he said, “All righty. So how about we go inside and take a look?”
He didn’t wait for her reply, just turned toward the back door of her house.
The sound of her footsteps as she scurried to catch up with his longer stride heralded her pulling ahead of him as they both headed toward the house.
She paused only long enough to glance back and shoot him another annoyed-looking glare.
Maybe he deserved that one. He had been staring at her ass as she trotted past him.
Of course he had been. What man wouldn’t? It was unavoidable as her butt cheeks moved temptingly beneath the tight stretchy pants she wore with a cropped T-shirt.
He’d had his hands on that perfect heart-shaped ass once upon a time. Back during those couple of weeks that summer when his world was so upside down he didn’t remember much of anything about it.
But now, home again and face-to-face with Josie—or rather face-to-ass right now—he remembered those stolen moments he’d spent with her. Away from his newly widowed mother. Away from the grief. Away from his own guilt and self-hatred.
He pushed all the bad feelings aside again as they crept upon him along with the good memories of having lost himself inside Josie’s body back then. Things weren’t like they had been. Mom was okay now. Thriving, even—as long as she didn’t fall off the counter. And judging by Josie’s demeanor, a repeat of that summer was not on the table so there was no use thinking about it.
She’d been plenty into him then, but now she was most definitely not. Or maybe she was off men and sex altogether. Who knew? Certainly not him.
He’d barely known her back then given she was younger than he was. Two grades difference in school had felt huge. Freshmen and Juniors didn’t mingle. And even though he played hockey with Quinn, Josie didn’t run in the same circles as her brother or as Corey.
And he hadn’t been around enough these past ten years to know anything about this Josie. The grown-up version who served on committees and drank tea with his mom’s old lady friends.
He had to wrestle his mind off the memories and his own thoughts as she disappeared through the back door and sprinted up the stairs, making him have to hurry a bit himself to catch up.
The moment he saw the kitchen, he felt an undeniable sense of familiarity. He hadn’t been inside it in years, and even then it had only been maybe a dozen times, but it still felt the same.
Reminders of his youth—and the Baldwin siblings—were everywhere.
A framed certificate with Josie’s name on it for some honor society thing hung next to a picture of his and Quinn’s official hockey team photo, all these years later. As if Quinn was about to walk through the door and dump his gear bag on the floor.
As Josie stormed on ahead, Corey didn’t have time to look closer but he knew he was there in that photo. Back row. Far right.
Funny how some memories were so clear—even the seemingly insignificant ones—while other far more important ones faded.
The Baldwin house always had a feeling of warmth. Cozy. Even now with Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin away.
Not that his own upbringing had been bad. His family just wasn’t like the Baldwins.
Here, friends would drop in. Stay for dinner or to watch a game on TV. The invite was always there. The door always open.
Corey had even accepted once or twice, while he and Quinn had been playing in the league. Teammates. Hockey buddies. Not friends but it was enough. Corey was more loner than not back then anyway.
The Navy had kind of cured that impulse—that need to have his own space. To be alone. Thank God he’d changed, or it would have been unbearable living on an aircraft carrier for the past five months.
Last time he’d been inside this room Quinn’s mother had been baking them frozen pizza rolls in the toaster oven that used to be—make that still was—on the kitchen counter. And if he wasn’t mistaken that might be the same Mr. Coffee machine next to it.
The Baldwin kitchen was vintage. Old school. He liked it. There’d been too much change in his life lately for him not to value and appreciate the things that remained the same.
“They went in through the pipe hole under the kitchen sink,” Josie explained as he stood in the kitchen, lost in his memories.
Her comment brought him back to the present, to where Josie knelt on hands and knees on the kitchen floor and stared up at him.
Her current position put too many ideas into his head. Which was especially bad since he’d changed into PT shorts to get ready for a run. They wouldn’t hide anything. Definitely not the hard-on that would make a very untimely appearance if he didn’t wrestle his libido into check.
He cleared his throat and squatted down next to her, concentrating on peering into the dark cabinet beneath the sink.
“That’s a pretty tiny hole,” he commented when he saw the space around the pipe.
“They’re pretty tiny kittens,” she snarked back.
“You sure that’s where they are?” he asked, still doubtful.
“Yes. I watched one go through and into the wall.”
He frowned. “Why didn’t you stop it?”
The glare she sent him would have wounded him, if she didn’t look so damn cute delivering it.
“Give me that. I’ll do it myself.” She reached to grab the hammer out of his hand.
He was faster. He pulled the tools away. “Now wait a minute. No need to rush.”
“Yes, there is! They could be anywhere by now.”
“Then it makes no sense to make a hole here, does it? We don’t even know where they are in the walls.”
Lips pressed tightly she snorted out a huff but didn’t argue. Point for him.
“These old houses have balloon construction…” he began.
With a loud expulsion of air, she said, “I don’t know what that is.”
“It means you can pretty much see from the attic straight down the walls to the basement. And if your house is anything like mine, the basement is unfinished. Bare wood studs. No sheetrock on the ceiling?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Good. So let’s take that box of cat food, go downstairs, and shake it—”
“I already shook the food,” she said, sounding frustrated.
“Well, we’ll just have to see if they’ve had enough fun in the walls by now and are ready to come out and eat.”
“And if they don’t?”
“We’ll try the attic.” Corey saw Josie open her mouth to protest yet again and cut her off. “And if they don’t come out, we’ll keep trying until they do. They’ll eventually get bored or hungry.”
“Or stuck or trapped,” she added.
“If they’re tiny enough to fit in that hole,” he said, pointing beneath the sink. “They’re too small to get stuck between the beams. So we wait for them to come out.”
Judging by the way she had her mouth screwed up, she wasn’t happy with this plan.
Josie was obviously a woman of action. Not the type to bide her time or sit around and wait.
She’d hate his job. Most of his duties on the ship consisted of doing exactly that—sitting around and waiting. In his case he’d be waiting for an enemy drone attack, not a couple of bored kittens, but still…
“Fine,” she spouted, climbing to her feet.
She stormed toward the basement stairs as he tried to control his smile over her little tantrum. He might not know everything about Josie but he was pretty sure she wouldn’t take kindly to being laughed at.
Although seeing her angry and all riled up was turning out to be the highlight of his day.
Chapter Eleven
“Shake the food,” Corey ordered.
“I don’t know why you can’t shake the food,” Josie mumbled, mostly under her breath.
Apparently she hadn’t complained softly enough, judging by Corey’s raised-brow as he glanced over his shoulder.
“Because I’m holding the flashlight so they can find their way. Besides the fact you’re holding the box of cat food.”
“Fine.” She scowled and began shaking the food, hard. Like it was a maraca she was angry at.
“Hey, little one.” The sound of Corey’s voice, soft and cajoling, stopped Josie’s maniacal shaking.
“You can see them?” she asked, taking a quick step forward.
“Yes. But let’s not make any sudden movements or speak too loudly so we don’t scare them, okay?” he told her in the same soft, even, almost musical tone.
She’d never imagined this kind of conversation happening between this big brute of an emotionless, hard-shelled man and two tiny kittens.
Her scowl deepened at being reprimanded by Corey, the kitten whisperer, for moving too fast and talking too loudly. As if she didn’t know how to not scare them.
She was a good five feet away from him. And besides, they were her kittens. Or at least they had been since she’d arrived home a few days ago.
There weren’t any cats in his house, so what made him such an expert?
