In Shining Whatever (Three Magic Words Trilogy #2)(61)

"Were you here when Katrina hit?" he asked.

He felt her gulp before she nodded. "It was horrible. We were called to New Orleans to help with security. The smell. The destruction. It scared the bejesus out of me."

"I didn't think anything could scare you," he said. He made no effort to release her, and she made none to shake free of his embrace.

Losing you again. Loneliness. Hurricanes. She listed the three top things that could scare her right then. The first one terrified her as much as the storm. She was a complete idiot. There she was, in a place where no one could disturb her time with him, where she had his undivided attention; and she was fighting it tooth, nail, hair, and eyeball, as Maw Maw said.

She opened her eyes to see him looking down. Their gaze caught, and a million years danced in front of them. Suddenly, the past didn't matter, only the present. When he lowered his head to kiss her, she raised her chin slightly to meet him halfway.

When the kiss ended, she cuddled into his chest. "Hold me, Hart. Don't ever let me go"

"I won't," he whispered.

Later, when the thunder ended and the first round had ended on a note so high that it rivaled the squall, she eased out of his arms and went back to her side of the bed.

I'm still staying, she thought. The storm had passed, and her vision hadn't changed.

He pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Your hair mesmerizes me. It always has. I used to watch it swing back and forth when you walked out across the playground that summer. What are we going to do about us?"

Kate snuggled closer to him. "I don't want to talk about it right now. No talking. Just sleeping until we have to get up."

"Why?"

"Because I hate good-byes and I hate decisions. I've got to think things through again. Give me some time."

The wind howled and thunder rolled as the squall line trav eled on up the line. Even when it was no more than a distant rumble, Hart still couldn't sleep. He faced every single demon from the past fifteen years before he finally fell asleep.

He awoke to the warmth of sun on his face and the smell of ham frying in an iron skillet.

"We've got fried ham, biscuits, and gravy this morning," she said.

"Looks like a fine day for fishing," he said.

Kate had awakened at peace with the world. She didn't care that morning if she took Laysard's offer of a job or turned it down. She didn't give a damn if she and Hart spent the rest of their lives right there on that island. The air flowing through the house was crisp and clean and smelled fresh. She was in love. It might take Hart a while to catch up, but that was okay too. So long as he didn't drag his feet too badly.

"Storm washed up a cow, and you've already milked it this morning?" he asked as he rolled off the mattress, stood up, and stretched.

"No, an alligator. I had to sweet-talk it pretty good to get the thing to stand still, but the milk is really sweet and makes the best gravy," she said.

"I'm going out to check the damage," he said.

"You got about five minutes, so don't go far." Her voice had lost its edge, and she sounded sweet, like a wife making breakfast for her husband.

He nodded and made it to the bottom of the stairs before he saw the animal staring up at him. He stopped in his tracks and backed up two steps. "Kate, come here," he yelled.

She slammed the door and didn't make any attempt to be quiet. Still the thing didn't move. "What's wrong? Did a gator come looking for refuge?"

He pointed. "What is that thing?"

"That, cher, is a nutria. Remember the twenty-pound rat you thought we were lying about? Well, there it is."

"Will it attack me?"

"It can smell fear at a hundred yards. You might be in big trouble," she teased.

"I'm serious. It looks pretty mean"

She clapped her hands, and the animal lumbered out across the yard and into the trees. "There now. The big mean rat is gone and the little boy can go out and play after the rain. If that gravy burns, I'm holding you responsible," she said, as she made a beeline back into the house.

He walked around the house, and sure enough, it looked the same. One shower curtain had gotten tangled up in the tree, but when he pulled it down, there wasn't even a tear in the plastic. Later, he'd check the rest of the island and the boat dock. When he made it back inside, she looked up from the table with a smile.

"Just in time," she said.

He washed his hands and face at the kitchen sink, dried them on a towel hanging from a large nail driven into the end of the cabinet, and sat down at the table.

Kate removed biscuits from a cast-iron apparatus that sat on top of the woodstove, and piled them up in a crock bowl. She filled a smaller bowl with gravy and put several slabs of fried ham on a platter. On another platter, she stacked half a dozen pieces of fried mush.

"How did you really make this gravy?" he asked.

"Milk out of a can." She split two biscuits and covered them with gravy, adding a layer of black pepper when she was finished.

"Well, it's good. I love cooked breakfast," he said.

"As opposed to raw breakfast?"

"No, as opposed to cold cereal or those things out of boxes that you put in a toaster. I've always liked breakfast. Eggs. Pancakes. All of it."