Home Town, page 6
part #1 of The Long Road Home Series
“Come on out. Don’t be afraid,” he continued in that same inhuman, Disney-fide tone of voice.
But damned if it didn’t work. She saw first a tiny white and orange paw and then a little pink nose appear between the wooden beams.
Corey was tall enough he easily reached up and grabbed the little villain with one big hand, plucking it out from where the ceiling met the wall.
“Here,” he said, thrusting the squirming lump of fur at her.
Taken by surprise, she had to juggle the box of food from her hand to under her arm to be able to grab hold of the kitten.
Meanwhile, Corey had reached up and was gently trying to extricate Peanut Butter’s partner in crime, Jelly, from the wall.
The kitten had other ideas and held on to the wood with its tiny needle-like claws.
Corey, admittedly more patient than she would have been, took the time to lift each little claw out of the wood, freeing its hold all while lecturing the kitten gently about the dangers of roaming in the walls. As if the animal would actually understand.
Cuddling the little marmalade cat, Corey walked toward her, frowning. “You don’t hold a kitten like that.”
“Like what?” she protested as he reached out and plucked the kitten she had clamped between her two hands and held as far away from her body as she could get it without dropping the food clutched beneath her arm.
“Like it’s a dirty diaper or a venomous snake or something.” His voice remained soft even as he scolded her, most likely in deference to the two kittens he now had cradled against his chest.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the sight before her. The unlikely threesome had her complete attention.
Both little demons, usually balls of energy in constant motion, had nestled in against the hard planes of his pectorals and fallen asleep. Or were close to sleep as they purred loudly enough for her to hear while squeezing their eyes tightly shut.
She was still staring at the phenomenon—a Kitten-mas miracle—when he asked, “Where’s their bed?”
The question brought her gaze back to Corey’s face. “I don’t think they have their own bed. They’re just fosters. We’re not keeping them.” Under what she deemed a judgmental stare from Corey, she rushed to add, “They’ve been sleeping on my parents’ bed during the day and with me at night.”
“They’d probably like something smaller. Have you got a cardboard box laying around we could put a towel inside? Or we could even drape something over an end table—”
“Like a blanket fort?” She snorted. “For the cats?”
“Yes, for the cats. They might like someplace to sleep that felt protected. Hidden. They like tiny spaces. Obviously. They crawled through a hole and into the wall under the sink,” he mansplained.
“Yeah, I know. I was there.” She knew very well what had happened.
Smart ass.
Who was this man in front of her? Because he certainly wasn’t the same one who’d gotten suspended from the ice hockey team for two games for giving a player on the opposite team a concussion with his bare fists.
What had happened to the guy who’d worn the black leather jacket and a deadly glare all through high school? Who could walk straight down the center of a crowded hallway between classes and part the sea of students like he was Moses.
He’d gone away, joined the Navy and come back a softy who cuddled kittens and built blanket forts.
And even though the demon kittens had been the bane of her existence since her arrival, she couldn’t deny how seeing him first save their lives, then cuddle them, caused a suspiciously squishy feeling in her chest.
“I’ve got a box,” she said on a huff and spun toward the stairs.
Since she had missed recycling day, something else her parents would have judged her for, they happened to have a few boxes lying around.
She’d make the kittens a damn bed. Why not? She needed the distraction. She didn’t like this new nice guy version of Corey. It was jarring. Confusing. Maybe even a little bit tempting.
Tempting was the last thing she needed him to be.
She’d had a crush all through school on the bad ass version of him. The tough guy. A villain who was as scary as he was sexy.
The guy who’d shocked the hell out of her that one summer when he’d gone from mostly ignoring her their entire lives to showing an interest that led to—
She pushed aside the memory of what it had led to.
But he wasn’t that guy anymore—
Nope. She wasn’t going to go there. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
One broken heart in a lifetime was enough for her. And there was no doubt in her mind, kitten cuddling aside, Corey was still and always would be to his core a heart breaker. The love ’em and leave ’em kind.
Storming to the pantry where the boxes were stacked in hopes she’d remember to drag them to the curb next week, she concentrated on this kitten bed-slash-fort she was supposed to construct.
“Can you keep them contained while I do something to block that hole under the sink so this doesn’t happen again?” he asked.
Great. Now he was going to be here even longer playing handyman and fixing the hole. Not that she wanted to do it herself or even knew how.
Fine. She’d let him fix it. Then, she supposed, she’d have to swallow her pride and thank him for all he’d done tonight. Ugh.
“Yes,” she spat out. “Their litter box and food dish are in the bathroom. I’ll lock them in there.” Suspecting Corey the cat cuddler might not like that idea, she added, “with their new box bed.”
He nodded, seemingly satisfied.
Great. At least Corey was happy. But her? It would take more than a cat rescue and some wall repair to make her forget why she hated Corey Jacobs.
Chapter Twelve
“Promise me we’re never getting a cat,” Josie said fervently into the phone the moment her best friend answered and said hello.
She watched Peanut Butter and Jelly use their little talons on the edge of the kitchen cabinet door as they tried to pry it open. Apparently they were looking for another adventure in the walls.
Too bad. They weren’t going to get it. Thank God—and thanks to Corey too—that hole was blocked. Even if they got the cabinet open they weren’t going anywhere.
Ha! Take that, Satan’s minions.
“I thought you liked cats,” Bailey said, her voice sounding soft. Scratchy.
Josie hoped Bailey wasn’t getting a cold. Or laryngitis. Although, it was summer. Not exactly cold season. Maybe she’d just woken up. Josie kept forgetting the time difference. The kittens woke her every morning at dawn. East Coast dawn. But Bailey was on West Coast time, three hours earlier, and she didn’t have two hungry, noisy alarm clocks waking her.
“I thought I liked cats too, until I became the caretaker for these two demon spawn.”
“Oh, stop. I saw the pictures. They’re adorable,” Bailey croaked out.
“When they’re asleep, maybe.”
She wasn’t going to admit aloud they did seem to sleep longer and sounder in their new cardboard cave Corey had demanded she provide for the furry freeloaders.
“And what’s wrong with your voice?” Josie asked.
“Working too hard. The recording session yesterday went long.”
“I told you already, you have to put your foot down. Don’t let Xander promise the world to these record companies and then leave you to foot the bill. You can say no, you know.”
“And then I’ll be the diva with the reputation for being difficult to work with,” Bailey countered weakly.
Josie scoffed. “You are far from a diva.”
“So, what are your plans for today?” Bailey asked, not so subtly changing the subject.
“Research on the history of the town.” She needed more information for the website and press kit she was putting together for the anniversary event.
“Oh. Exciting.”
Josie’s lips twitched at her friend’s sarcasm. “It is. I’m going to the library in Mudville. I got access through the historical society to the private archives that like nobody gets to see.”
More proof that she was still a geek at heart like she’d been in school. At least as an adult her nerdiness earned her a good living.
“Archives? Wow! You should have said that to begin with.” Bailey laughed.
“Archives for me are like that make-up store you dragged me into is for you,” Josie explained.
“Okay. I get it. But I still think make-up is much more fun than dusty old papers.”
“Not just papers. There’s a two-hundred and fifty-year-old compass that belonged to the town’s founder.” She and Bailey had both been born and grew up in Sidney. Her friend had to be impressed by that.
“Oh, well. That’s different. Maybe I should get a flight right over.” The sarcasm was still very much in place in Bailey’s tone.
“Okay, okay. We geek out over different things. That’s fine. I love you anyway.”
“Love you too. But now I have to shower and dress and get to the studio.”
“No. You need to call in sick. Your voice—”
“Nothing some hot tea with lemon and honey won’t fix.”
“Bailey,” Josie said low with warning.
“Bye. Love ya. Talk later.” Bailey disconnected the call before Josie could reprimand her further.
But she had other means at her disposal. She strutted over to the laptop and opened a new email message, addressing it to Quinn. And then she did exactly what her brother had always complained about while they’d been young—she tattled and enjoyed doing it.
She’d see how Xander and Bailey liked it now that Quinn knew his fiancée was working herself sick. Ha!
Satisfied with what she’d already accomplished that morning—call to Bailey, email to Quinn, cats fed and the poop scooped—she grabbed her tote bag and her parents’ car keys.
One good thing about the cats getting her up early was that Josie could check her email and her socials, handle a few business things and still have enough time to enjoy a cup of tea and something sweet at Honey Buns, the cute little bakery on Main Street in Mudville. All with plenty of time before she was due at the library.
She leisurely downed both—tea and sweet treat—at a little table set outside on the grass before she headed next door to the library.
Marie Jacobs had arranged for someone to meet her there to let her into the private archives housed on the top floor of the building.
Excited for her research adventure she walked with a spring in her step and the sun on her face…until the familiar sight of the tall, dark-haired man on the library’s front porch stopped her mid-stride and cast a shadow over her sunny day.
Corey.
Chapter Thirteen
“What are you doing here?” Josie demanded with a distinctly accusatory tone.
In answer to her question Corey held up a keychain.
The colorful crocheted loop on which the key ring hung should make it clear to Josie the keys were his mother’s. His mom was on the board of the historical society. She’d made the arrangements with Josie to get inside on a day the library was closed. And she was the one who loved to crochet.
He’d been nice enough to run the keys over so his mother didn’t have to and this was the thanks he got. A scowl from Josie Baldwin as she glared at him like he was some sort of stalker.
“I thought you needed these,” Corey said still holding the keys.
“I do… I just thought, I don’t know, the librarian would let me upstairs.”
“Library’s closed today. She’s off.”
“I didn’t know that,” she mumbled.
“A geek like you doesn’t know when the library is open? Shocking.” He only knew himself because his mother had told him, but he wasn’t about to miss a jab at Josie.
It paid off. Her cheeks got adorably pink at the insult and her frown deepened. “I usually go to the Sidney Library. It’s bigger. And closer.”
The perfection of her quintessential nerdy answer, combined with the indignation of her tone, had him smiling. “Of course. Forgive me.”
She donned a smile of her own. “You’re forgiven. I wouldn’t expect a jock who only graduated thanks to his Phys Ed score would know anything about libraries.”
It seemed they’d entered into a verbal sparring match. He might be on medical leave but he was more than well enough for this battle against her.
“Ouch. I’m wounded.” He pressed one hand to his heart in mock pain.
Actually, he was a little bit hurt. She’d basically just called him stupid.
Sure, he wasn’t a brainiac like she was. His grades hadn’t been the best, but that was because he put in just enough effort to keep them over the threshold to remain on the hockey team.
He was too busy with practice and games—and yeah, partying too—to do more than the bare minimum required, even if he was capable of more.
Besides, he knew he didn’t want to go to college. Joining the Navy was always his plan. Just like his grandpa.
However, given the fact he was seriously worried he might have lost a good amount of brain function in the explosion, the insult hit a bit too close to home.
Josie always had been a cocky smart ass but still, the comment seemed harsh, even for her.
Why did she hate him so much? He still hadn’t figured out what the hell he had done.
They’d gotten along really well that summer she graduated high school and he’d been home on leave.
Something had obviously happened between then and now. Something that even his rescuing her kittens and fixing her wall and delivering the keys she needed didn’t make up for.
“Why exactly do you hate me so much?” he asked, tired of wondering.
Guessing was taking up too much unnecessary mental energy when he was supposed to be resting his brain.
Her eyes widened as she drew back. A crease formed above her brow and she shook her head slowly. “You really don’t know?”
“No. Obviously.” He threw his hands into the air. “What don’t I know? Why don’t you just tell me?”
She let out a huff and shook her head again.
Mumbling something that sounded like, “Typical,” she walked past him and stood next to the door. “Can I get inside? Please. I have a lot of work to do.”
Shaking his head he said, “Sure.”
If this was how she wanted to play it, then so be it. He had bigger things to worry about.
Shame though. He really did like her—when she wasn’t hating him.
They went in through the main entrance, which he unlocked, then bypassed the library door to instead climb the stairs. At the top, he navigated to another key on the ring and unlocked the door.
The heat of the second-floor space hit him in the face, carried on a wave of hot dry air. He drew back as much to try to get a gasp of the slightly less tepid air out in the hall, as from memories of his time spent in the heat of Djibouti.
His mother had told him that they controlled the humidity to protect the objects inside the room, but apparently heat was another matter. A dehumidifier chugged away in one corner but there was obviously no air conditioning up there.
“You can go,” Josie said, seemingly not bothered by the conditions. “I’m fine here alone.”
If she could take it, so could he. No way was he going to let her think she was tougher than he was.
“I don’t mind staying. Some of this stuff looks pretty interesting.”
It wasn’t a lie. There was a lot of cool shit he’d noticed as he glanced around the stuffed room. He drew his gaze away from the ancient-looking artifacts laid out on one wall of shelves to glance at Josie.
Looking horrified at the idea he might stay, she rushed to say, “I can drop the keys off at your mom’s later when I’m done.”
Of course. She didn’t even want him in the same room with her. And in light of how viciously she seemed to hate him, the idea of staying just to annoy her didn’t seem fun any longer. Not in the face of her undeniable overt loathing.
“Fine. Have fun all by yourself.” There was a bite to his tone he hadn’t intended. She was getting to him in spite of himself.
“Oh, I will,” she returned with an equal bite.
The funny thing was, he was pretty sure she would. Have fun all alone up in that hot room filled with old books.
A part of him was impressed by that. Another part of him, still stinging from her insults, was glad he hadn’t pointed out the air conditioner he’d spotted in the back window, partially hidden behind the desk.
She was smart. Let her find it herself.
With that childish thought, he said, “Here you go.”
He tossed the keys at her… and watched them land on the floor with a jingle after she fumbled the catch.
“Hmm, maybe someone should have paid a little more attention in Phys Ed.” With a snort of a laugh he turned and left her alone. Just like she wanted.
Chapter Fourteen
Josie heard the front door of the building slam shut and, with a groan that bordered on a growl, buried the fingers of both hands in her hair.
She tugged until she felt the pull against her scalp. This infuriating man was literally making her tear out her own hair.
The universe—fate, whatever—was clearly testing her.
Or, more likely, laughing at her. Because it had to be some kind of cosmic joke that the boy next door who had moved away more than ten years ago to traverse the globe would be home the exact same time she had flown back from California to cat sit.
If this were a cheesy movie, the plot would have been that his and her mother had conspired to get the two of them together. Because, in true rom com fashion, she as the heroine and he as the hero would be too clueless or too stubborn to see on their own that they belonged together.
But her life was far from a movie. And she and Corey most definitely did not belong together.
Drawing in and blowing out a breath, she turned to face the room she’d endured Corey’s presence just to be allowed into. The sight was enough to calm her frazzled nerves and make her forget the torturous encounter with him.
