Page 44 of Hearts on the Mend

“You’re forgetting something,” I say, kneeling down on the kitchen floor to scratch the kitten’s back.

“What’s that?”

“Ruby hasn’t seen it yet.”

Chapter 14

Cassie

It was a shit day at North Point. And when my shift ended and I picked up Ruby, she refused to listen, wouldn’t eat dinner, and it took me an extra hour to get her to bed.

I’m fucking fried, and I have to do it again tomorrow.

At least the kitchen is warm with the woodstove. Nolan’s stacked up another pile of wood. And the still-nameless kitten, which Ruby predictably loves, is with us behind a baby gate across Nolan’s bedroom. Until it decides to scale over it, then we’ll be madly scrambling to find the black furball in this disaster of a farmhouse.

I crack another egg into the metal mixing bowl, wrap a firm grip around the whisk, and beat the egg until it’s fluffy.

“What are you doing?”

Nolan Murphy is the last person I want to deal with right now. I can smell the brisk cold clinging to him as he shrugs out of his jacket and kicks off his boots with a deep sigh. He chuckles to himself, pulling out a pebble from the toe and placing it beside Ruby’s princess water bottle on the table.

“I’m baking because murder is wrong,” I snap.

He steps into view, clearly unafraid of my tone, because of course he’s not. The man is immune to feelings or danger. His gray Henley pulls across his wide chest, distracting me for a moment. I’ll swear it’s only a spot of paint on his cheek if he asks why I’m staring.

The living room’s plaster has been fixed, and the room is ready for paint. The hallway is almost done, and the long list, surprisingly, keeps getting shorter. Next, he’ll be gutting the bathroom upstairs for a quick update. More cosmetic things than a total bathroom rehaul; still, I have my doubts it can happen as quickly as he claims.

“Why, too pretty to go to jail?” he asks. “You do have a mean left hook though.”

I pour the batter into the buttered pan, toss the bowl into the sink, and hip-check the oven door shut before I slowly rake my eyes up his body.

For the record, I’m very much annoyed at how I remember everything he did to me a year ago. How he made me feel. I’m not above admitting that I’ve replayed that night over in my mind with my vibrator between my legs. Problem is, it’s never close enough to the real thing.

“Nolan, are you flirting with me?”

“Depends.” That small grin of his tugs at the corner of his lips, just enough to make it clear that I’m the one in trouble here. He brings his hands to his mouth and blows, warming them up. A piece of hair falls down across his forehead.

“Long day,” I say by way of an apology. “A long, bad day.”

“I can tell, Cass.”

“How?”

“You only bake when you’re stressed.” He drops his hands and leans back against the dining table.

There’s no point in denying it. I love nursing, but after COVID, it’s been especially hard. And then becoming a new mom and having to juggle motherhood with a husband who was always with his crew. It was a lot. So sue me. I find escape with chocolate chips or that really good vanilla. Not the cheap stuff you find at the grocery store. It’s not fine. Sorry, I don’t agree with Ina on that one.

“What do you do when you’re stressed?” I ask.

“You’re not gonna like that answer.”

I cross my arms. “Oh?”

“You want to ask and find out?”

“No.” I grin, losing myself for a minute in his eyes and the soft light there. For me. I know what he’s doing and what’s going on, and I can’t do this tonight.

Or tomorrow.