Page 40 of Quiet Chaos

Still watching the frozen lake, I say, “Isn’t this beautiful?”

He comes next to me, broken ice eyes sparkling from the lake. “You should see Devil’s Kitchen at Mount Nebo. A canyon of red rock for miles.”

“I hope to see it someday.” I pause for a second. “Have you been there often?”

He closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and his gruff voice says, “Yeah. I dumped my parents’ ashes there.”

I wasn’t expecting him to say that. My hand inches over to him. I think better of it and bring it back. “Sorry, Cade. I didn’t know… I also never asked. Patsy told me they passed away.”

He turns his head downwards to me and gives me a gentle smile. Then he ticks his head for us to get back in the car. The ride home is quiet, and the tires lull me to sleep.

In the house, we both change into our ‘home’ clothes, which are basically our sloppy clothes. The cold must not affect Cade, because he’s shirtless while I’m hovering in the kitchen, wearing leggings and a long sweatshirt that hangs to my knees. I chop vegetables for a salad. Cade wanted steak and ale potpies, so he cooks the meat. Even though I don’t drink, he promises most of the alcohol will burn off and I won’t taste it.

As I work on the salad, I ask, “Where did you come up with Armstrong’s name?”

Cade glances over his shoulder. “Louis. Louis Armstrong.” I scrunch my nose.

He lifts his phone to browse for music, shaking his head, before hitting a button. The deepest, grittiest voice comes overthe speakers, deeper than Cade’s, and each word ofWhat a Wonderful Worldseeps into my soul. Soon, tears run down my cheeks as drops dangle from my eyelashes, clouding Cade, who is leaning against the counter holding a tender smile.

He crosses his arms, inclines his head to the right, and says, “Yeah, he had that effect on my mom, too.”

I wipe my tears and let out a humble laugh. “Please play it again.” He does and gets back to cooking.

I set the table and ask if he needs help. His thick hair shakes from side to side. I jump up onto the kitchen island to admire Cade as he propels himself around the kitchen. For someone so big, he cooks with grace.

“At the club, I noticed you’re bigger than the other men.”

For a second, I don’t think he’s going to respond, and then he says, “In high school, they diagnosed me with myostatin related muscle hypertrophy. It’s a deficiency of the MSTN gene, which helps the body produce the protein myostatin. The protein controls the growth of tissues. Since I’m deficient in the gene, the result is much more muscle.”

“Does it cause any medical problems?”

“No.” He turns with a dangerous grin, and in his baritone voice, says, “I’m just bigger and stronger than many.”

I blush when he waits before turning away from me. He pours some of the ale in a saucepan, thickens it, and empties it over the meat and vegetables. Cade puts the pies in the oven and begins cleaning. I jump down to help. Music plays in the background. With his hand full of dish soap bubbles, he puts some on my nose. My mouth opens in surprise. I scoop some into my hand and plop it in his hair. He stalks toward me, yanking the sprayer, and I scream.

“Never delay kissing a pretty girl or opening a bottle of whiskey.” Ernest Hemingway

Cade

I have an arm wrapped around Sky’s back, the sprayer in the other as she shrieks and wiggles to break free. Armstrong is barking at us. Then I pick her up, drop the sprayer, and place her on the counter. Her giggles die down and so does Armstrong’s barking.

She stops laughing as I stand between her legs. Her finger runs along the scar on my upper right cheek. “What happened?”

“A fight. He didn’t like that I was winning. Broke a beer bottle and swung it at me.”

Louis Armstrong’sGive me a Kiss to Build a Dream Onplays in the background. The sadness insinuated on her face as she caresses the scar has me do something I haven’t done in adulthood. Before it registers, my hand cups the side of her face, thumb running along her jawline, eyes connect, and I press my lips to hers. It’s a rumor of a kiss, as if to question whether it even happened. I release her for a second, then my mouth finds hers again. My tongue wanders across her lips. With a hand on her lower back, I slide her closer, the other cupping her head to keep her nearby. I need her close. She grabs my biceps and lets out a gasp, opening her mouth enough for my tongue to slip in, skimming across hers. It’s a guarded kiss.

Neither of us understands what possessed me to do it. Her thumbs rub against my skin, providing the drive for more. My fingers tangle in her hair, the other drops to her ass. Deprived mouths grasp for more. The intensity increases. I can’t get enough of her. Her mouth struggles to stay in sync. Teeth, lips, tongues, collide. It’s delicious, and my dick wants in. My hand tightens around her hair, tugging her head back, exposing her neck to nip, lick, leaving a wet trail down to her collarbone. I work my way back to her warm lips. The back of my hand grazes her side and the contour of her breast.

Sky pushes against my arms, so I take a last needed kiss, drop my hand, and place my forehead to hers. Our panting settles. Her eyes reach mine with a mixture of pleasure and regret.

My voice is hoarse when I say, “I don’t know why I did that.”

There is a tinge of pink around her mouth. Her lips swollen.

“It’s okay.” She brushes her hair away from her face and averts my eyes.

After the song, I wipe my hands down the front of my sweats, clear my throat, and take a gulp from the left-over ale. Angled against the opposite counter from Sky, I observe her assembling her emotions. White knuckles clutch the end of the countertop. She’s already brought her legs together and sweatshirt lower.

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