“Sweetheart, far be it from me to tell a fella how to cook, but you’re pulverizing that celery.”
I look down to see that she’s right, and I’ve basically created a pile of mush. After tossing it in the compost bag, I grab a few more stalks, wash them, and chop much more carefully.
“You want to tell me what’s wrong, or should I just sit here and wait for it all to come tumbling out of your mouth? Totally up to you, hon, but if it were up to me, I’d go with option number one. I’m not getting any younger.”
“I’m fine. Just restless, you know? Looks like the weather might break by tomorrow, though, so that's good, right?”
Vicki just laughs. “That is so much bullshit, Caleb Whitman. Not about the weather breaking. I know that much. But if you think you can fool me into believing that it’s plain old cabin fever that has your face in a permanent frown and your shoulders so tense they might bust the seams of that sweatshirt, you’re out of your damn mind. I’ll tell you what I tell my own kids: don’t lie to Mama V—it never works anyway, so it’s just a waste of time.”
Vicki walks to the pantry, grabs a couple baguettes, and sidles up next to me. She grabs a large serrated knife from the butcher block, starts slicing the bread, and looks at me once again. “You’re having trouble with your girl, aren’t you? Don’t bother denying it.”
“No,” I start to say before Vicki cuts me off.
“I know I look young, but I wasn’t born yesterday,” she teases, and she’s still wielding that knife, so I’m compelled to be honest. “Are you going to stand here in my kitchen and deny that when you two look at each other, the temperature in the room shoots up about five degrees?”
“Not in the slightest. But that’s the trouble—she’s not my girl.”
“Oh, honey. Tell that to someone whose room isn’t directly below yours.”
I can’t help blushing. “Yeah, well…she’s not. I mean, we’re having the best sex of my life, but we’re not together. This is all just temporary. As soon as the weather clears, I’ll drive her the rest of the way to Wisconsin and then head back to Maryland. It’ll be over in a day or two, at most.”
“There’s nothing temporary about the looks you’re giving each other, hon. Long distance can be hard, but it’s not impossible. Surely, you’ll have opportunities to see each other, right?”
“Yeah,” I huff out a laugh. “We’ll see each other regularly at family dinners and get-togethers. Lucy’s my stepsister.” The words are out before I can censor them.
God bless her, Vicki doesn’t even flinch. She goes back to placing the sliced crostinis on a baking sheet, like I didn’t just tell her my sister and I are screwing like rabbits.
For some reason, I feel the need to explain. “Technically, we’ve only been stepsiblings for about five or six weeks. Lucy and I have known each other for years—way before our parents met. And we’ve always had this…thing…between us, you know? This attraction. But for whatever reason, it never panned out. Then, our parents met this summer and got married at Thanksgiving. And, please, don’t mention what I’m telling you. I can pretty much guarantee that Lucy would have a fit if she knew I told anyone.”
Vicki just laughs. “I have two kids and run a bed and breakfast. I’m a certified secret-keeper.”
I sigh, my shoulders relaxing a bit. “I’ve known Lucy for years and been in love with her for just as long. But it’s complicated. I need to get over myself so we can get back to being friends, or stepsiblings, or whatever we are.”
“Are you blind? That girl is so far gone for you she doesn’t know what to do with herself. I just hope she realizes what a catch you are before it’s too late.”
“I’m not a catch. Far from it, really.” At her crooked eyebrow, I continue. “I’m not gonna dump all my shit on you—”
She waves a hand dismissively. “You wouldn’t be the first or the last, hon.”
“Well, suffice it to say I’m not worthy of Lucy. I’m a fucking mess, and she’s smart to steer clear of anything remotely related to permanence around me. Still,” I shrug. “I wish things were different, you know?”
“And yet again, I call bullshit.” Vicki sticks the crostinis in the oven then wipes her hands on a dish towel before placing it over her shoulder. “Now, I’m not asking for all the sordid details. I don’t need to know your whole story to know you’re a good person. And I could tell you everyone’s worthy of love because they are. But you? You're special. You've been here three days and I knew instantly that you have a heart of gold. You shovel the walk three times a day without being asked. You help me cook for a crowd, and you keep me company. You make people feel welcome, and that’s a rare gift. You're so much better than you give yourself credit for, that much I know. And if that girl you're so hung up on doesn't see your worth, you make sure she sees the door.”
I smile sadly. “You don’t understand. I’m just…not a good bet.”
Vicki shakes her head. “It's none of my business, darlin, but I will say this—know your worth, and then add tax. You got me?”
“Yes, ma'am,” I nod. It’s good advice. I’m just not sure I can take it.
* * *
After gorgingmyself on buffalo chicken dip and catching a little football on TV with Dan, I decide to check in on Lucy. She’s fast asleep on the bed in our room, and I’m tempted to curl up next to her. Did she drive a stake through my heart with her words earlier? Hell yes.
But does it make me love her any less? Hell no.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I duck back downstairs to see who’s calling. Ty texted earlier to say that Knox was on the run, and they were tracking his ass down. I hope to hell they found him because he’s got something really special with Willa and Rose, and I’d hate to see him fuck that up.
A wave of relief washes over me as I swipe up and see Knox’s face on the screen.
