Page 5 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
Sara’s eyes are all black pupils and smoke-gray irises. “You were trying to help?” She keeps her gaze locked on mine. “I’m so sorry.”
Her voice is soft now, and a twinge of sympathy for her pings behind my ribs. But I refuse to let my defenses down. Being around the Hathaways always made me feel less than. Unworthy and adrift. So Sara’s a slippery slope I can’t afford to get my heart anywhere near.
Not again.
“I thought some faulty wiring might’ve started a fire,” I mutter, finally forcing myself to speak. “Everyone in town knows this place is being renovated. I didn’t want the empty house to burn down, so I tried the back door. It was unlocked. I assumed the contractors left it that way, so I came in.” I cringe a little as my head throbs in two different places. “I had no idea anyone was staying here.” I furrow my brow, peering up at Sara. “Whyareyou staying here?”
She takes a beat. Works her jaw. “My parents bought this place after Mr. Peabody died. They’re the ones renovating it.”
Whoa.
My insides churn.
This is bad news. Theworst.
The Hathaways only ever used this house as a summer getaway. Once they stopped coming, I assumed I’d never have to see them or Sara again. But now her parents are going to live on Abie Lake permanently? She’ll be visiting all the time. I’ll never be able to escape her.
This town is way too small.
“Huh.” Ford scratches his temple. “I’m kinda surprised the Abieville gossip mill didn’t know your folks were the ones moving here.” He snaps a glance at me. “Aunt Elaine and Betty Slater are usually on top of intel like this. Did you have any idea?”
I scowl at him. “Obviously not.”
“Well, this is just an investment property,” Sara hurries to say. “And my dad’s always discreet when it comes to finances. He hired a third-party management company to handle the purchase and remodel, so our name probably isn’t on any of the paperwork.” She glances around the smoky kitchen, wrinkling her nose. “For the record, I tried putting out the fire, but the extinguisher malfunctioned.”
Ford bends down to pick up the abandoned fire extinguisher. “Did you try pulling the pin?”
She blinks at him. “The what?”
“The pin.” He shakes his head, and a crooked smirk creeps across his face. “It’s kinda hard to get a fire extinguisher to function with the pin still engaged.”
“Well. I. Uh.” Her throat starts to blotch. “I did not know that.”
“Don’t feel too bad,” he says. “You aren’t the first person that’s happened to in this town. Natalie Slater—our cousin Brady’s wife—she did the same thing a few summers back.”
“The day of Kasey and Beau’s wedding,” Kenny chimes in. “That was a whole thing.”
Sara’s brow lifts. “Brady’s married to Natalie now? And Kasey married Beau? Wow.”
“Yeah.” Instead of elaborating, Ford sets the extinguisher down where I’m still slumped on the floor. When he straightens, I follow his gaze to the smoldering oven.
“So how did the fire start, anyway?” I ask.
“I was baking brownies,” she says, a tiny shrug hitching her shoulders.
“These appear to be well done,” Ford snarks, peeking inside the oven. “Personally, I prefer my baked goods a little more on the gooey side.”
A small laugh slips out of Sara now, and I’m transported back to those long summer days we spent together. Boating on the lake. Swimming at the beach. Strolling down Main Streetwith ice cream cones. She’d stop to lick the drips off of her wrist, and all I’d want to do is taste her sweet lips.
Every single time.
“All jokes aside,” Kenny says, reaching down to me, “we need to get you off the floor, man.” He and Ford help me stagger into a chair. Then Kenny takes my pulse. Stares into my eyes. Moves his finger back and forth while I’m supposed to track it. “You gotta be checked out at the hospital,” he says. “I’ll call a rig. Take you to Northampton Medical.”
“No ambulance.” I grimace. “I can slap a Band-Aid on that cut and call it a day.”
“You lost consciousness,” Kenny says. “Plus you’re nauseated. Blurred vision. Could be serious.”
I wave his comments away. “I got at least one concussion playing football in high school.”
