While the bouncy music lured me into a better mood, I pulled out my dented spell pot, which I couldn’t use for spelling anymore, and the recipe book I had swiped from my mom. Thumbing through it, I found Grandma’s fudgy brownie recipe penciled in beside the gourmet recipe that tasted like cardboard. Timing my motions with the music, I got out the eggs, sugar, vanilla, and dumped them on the center island counter. I had the chocolate chips melting on the stove and the evaporated milk measured out when the air shifted and the front door slammed. The egg in my hand slipped, cracking as it hit the counter.

“Forget something, Ivy?” I shouted. Adrenaline stabbed through me as my gaze went from the broken egg to everything scattered over the kitchen. I’d never get it hidden before she made it back here. Couldn’t that woman stay away for even an hour?

But it was Kisten’s voice that answered.

Twenty-One

“It’s me, Rachel,” Kisten called, his voice faint over the music blaring from the living room. I froze, the memory of the kiss he’d given me keeping me where I stood. I must have looked like an idiot when he turned the corner and stopped in the threshold.

“Ivy’s not here?” he said, his eyes giving me the once-over. “Shoot.”

I took a breath to settle myself. “Shoot?” I questioned, sliding the cracked egg off the counter and into the bowl. I didn’t think anyone said shoot anymore.

“Can I say shit?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Shit, then.” His gaze went from me to the kitchen, lacing his hands behind his back as I picked the bigger chunks of shell out.

“Hey, would you, ah, turn the music down for me?” I said, sneaking a glance at him when he nodded and walked out. It was Saturday, and he was dressed casually in leather boots and faded jeans that were nice and tight. His short leather coat was open, and a burgundy silk shirt showed a wisp of chest hair. Just enough, I thought as the music softened. I could smell his coat. I was a sucker for the scent of leather. This might be a problem.

“Are you sure Ivy didn’t send you over to baby-sit?” I questioned as he returned and I wiped the egg slime off on a damp dishcloth.

He chuckled and sat in Ivy’s chair. “No.” He hesitated. “Is she going to be gone for a while, or can I wait?”

I didn’t look up from the recipe, not liking how he had said that. There had been more inquiry in his voice than the question warranted. “Ivy went to talk to Jenks.” I ran my finger down the page without looking at the words. “Then she’s having dinner with her folks.”

“Sunup,” he murmured, and I felt my warning flags go up. All of them.

The clock above the sink ticked, and I took the melted chocolate off the stove. I wasn’t about to stand with my back to him, so I set it on the counter between us, crossing my arms in front of me and putting my backside against the sink. Watching me, he tossed his hair out of his eyes. I took a breath to tell him to go, but he interrupted.