Every Little Kiss (18 page)

Crow sightings started about a week into foster care, she realized. She flipped to the last page of the journal. It was there, just the day before.
Crow in the sky.

Casey closed the notebook and sat there for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Carter was hunched into the couch, the empty cocoa mug on the table. The bright walls of Robot Lit looked jarring against his pale, drawn face.

“Carter,” she said slowly, trying to make her voice casual, “you like to read, isn't that right?”

He nodded. Casey smiled. “Me, too. And there's this book I read one time that really stuck with me. It's about this farm, with all these animals. They gang up against the farmer and they overthrow him. And the animals are all like, ‘We're going to run this farm better than that farmer ever did.' But can you guess what the problem was with the situation?”

Carter's gray eyes were sharp. He was listening intently. “They didn't run the farm any better with the farmer gone?”

“Exactly. You could say things even got worse. And the thing that was so great about the book was that it was actually sort of based on a true story about a really complicated, confusing political situation in Russia. Super far away, you know? But this author, he made me understand it because he used animals.”

Carter blinked rapidly. His hands fisted against his sides.

“It's smart, really,” Casey continued. She glanced quickly at Ingrid and hoped her eyes communicated
Pay attention
. “It's kind of like a code. Like a secret message. What does each animal mean? What is this author trying to say?”

Carter had gone a shade whiter, which Casey hadn't thought was possible, given how pale he was to begin with. Casey wanted to give him a blanket, but she knew if she didn't continue talking about the crow right now, she might lose him. He was caught off guard, which wasn't a bad thing. No time to think up a lie, no time to dodge it. She had to get to the heart of the crow—now.

She took a deep breath. “Carter, you're not in trouble for writing anything in your journal. It was really brave of you to agree to share it with us. Not everyone would do that.”

“There's nothing in there,” he said, an edge in his voice that hadn't been there before.

“There's a crow,” Casey said gently. “A crow that you start seeing in November. And you saw it again—what, just yesterday?”

Carter went still on the couch.

“What does the crow mean? Who is the crow?” Her heart thundered.
Tell us
, she pleaded silently.

He shook his head. “Nothing. No one.”

Casey leaned forward through the tension-thick air. Ingrid and Rolf were silent, but their eyes were pleading with Carter to tell the truth. “We can help you,” Casey said. “You're not alone, okay? You just need to help us understand what the crow means.”

“It doesn't mean anything. It's just a stupid crow I keep seeing in the sky. Or in a tree. Or whatever. It's dumb.”

“It's not,” Casey said, hearing the fear in Carter's voice. She wanted to reach out and grab his hand. “It's not dumb. Is the crow hurting you? Is the crow a person who is harming you?”

Carter stood suddenly. Ingrid, Rolf and Casey followed suit. “I don't want to talk about this,” he said. He snatched his journal from Casey's hands. “You can't make me.”

“You're right, we can't,” Ingrid said, palms facing upward. Open. Nonaggressive. “We can't force you to say anything. But we're going to need to bring this up to the police and your guidance counselor at school.”

Carter's brow furrowed. He was getting angry. The crow was the spark that kindled his anger—and made him burn fires. Casey knew it as surely as she knew her name.

“So what? It doesn't matter. Everyone at the school is dumb. The police are stupid, too.”

“They're just trying to help you,” Rolf said. “We're all just trying to help you.”

Carter whipped his head away. He swiped a palm across his eyes. Casey's heart constricted inside her chest. What had the crow done to this boy? And how would they ever find out?

“You don't have to tell us right this minute,” Casey said. “How about we get a snack and just chill for a little bit?” Carter exhaled visibly. Ingrid gave Casey a small nod that said
Good thinking; don't push too hard
. Together, the four of them bundled up and hit the Rolling Pin for donuts.

Fifteen minutes later, Carter relaxed visibly as he ate. The blade of his defensiveness dulled slightly. When he looked up at Casey and actually smiled—powdered sugar smeared on one gaunt cheek—it nearly took her breath away. She felt something rising inside her, and realized it was protectiveness. She took a sip of her coffee as holiday shoppers scurried by outside, thinking of Audrey's present and how she hadn't found it yet. She
would
find it, though, and it would be just the thing. And maybe she hadn't found the crow yet, either, but she would uncover it, too. Come hell or high water, she would get to the bottom of what the crow was all about and help this boy.

She straightened in her chair.

She would expose that crow and rip its damn wings off.

T
hat weekend, Casey gave in. She bit the bullet and decided to buy all new holiday ornaments, seeing as how hers were probably still with the movers, maybe in a box in Pasadena somewhere.

Her stomach twisted with the idea that her collection of ornaments was gone. She blinked back tears and told herself not to get overly sentimental about things.
You can't take it with you
—wasn't that the expression?

Even so, her heart sank as she faced the reality she'd never glimpse anything in her holiday collection again.

She'd never see the tinfoil-and-cardboard star Audrey had made her when they were both in college, dead broke and unable to buy anything for each other. She'd never again hold the snow globe she got in Duluth, with Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox standing vigilant in the permanent blizzard. Her cow wearing reindeer antlers was gone forever.

Swallowing the stubborn lump in her throat, she pulled on her down jacket. Buying new ornaments felt like giving up, which was why she supposed she'd waited so long to do it. But with only two weeks left until Christmas, she needed to get something up or risk missing the season entirely. And that felt unacceptable, like a defeat worse than losing her ornaments altogether.

The morning was mild, the sun low in the pale blue sky, and Casey decided to walk downtown instead of drive. Besides, she hadn't shoveled her driveway or sidewalk since Abe had done it, and it would take her a good half hour to get her car out.

At the thought of Abe, she shivered—but not because of the cold. He was a memory so vivid and visceral she felt like he was standing next to her, breathing on her skin all over again.

Which wouldn't be so bad.

And then his hands could do that thing again, the one that had her back arching like a cat, and his mouth could nibble at her like she was a gingersnap cookie and—

She shook her head. Before they could do anything more, she needed to revise her list. She had to get more specific. She pulled her scarf up over her cheeks so no one would see her blush as she thought about how in the world she was going to do this. Moreover,
should
she even do this?

Her list was just fine, really. There was something unsettling about Abe wanting to change it. Why was he so bent on poking holes in it?

And yet, did it matter? The way he'd made her feel…good grief. If she needed to spell out more parameters for him to touch her again, to make her explode with feeling, so be it. Her boots crunched snow as she walked and pondered.

The first item was so cut and dried she could hardly imagine how to make it more clear.
I want to start out being kissed under the mistletoe, but I want to finish with sex in bed.

She'd paraphrased that one for Abe, but it hardly mattered.
I want to start out kissing, but have it lead to sex.

Okay, fine. She'd circle back to that one in a minute. Maybe there were others that were easier.

I want to be naughty, not nice, between the sheets.

Casey bit her lip. This one could probably stand some fleshing out. She'd paraphrased this by telling Abe she wanted rough sex. Not that she wanted a whole BDSM experience or anything—though hats off to anyone who did. In her case, however, she didn't necessarily need whips and chains and leather to get off. All she wanted was a little…excitement. So how to make that clearer without taking all the fun out of it?

I want to be tied up during sex.

She pondered that: Her hands bound to the headboard, and Abe taking his sweet time with whatever he wanted to do.

Or he could not take his time.

The point was he could do anything and she would be…bound to endure it. Pun intended.

The idea was hot enough to make her think she could melt the snow all around her. Good grief, she'd be lucky to make it to the hardware store without needing to plunge herself into a snowbank to cool off.

She increased her pace, in part so she could make herself think that her elevated heart rate was the result of physical exercise.

All right
, she thought.
I'll change the second item on my list to:
I want to be tied up during sex.
That should cover it.

The next item on her list lodged itself in her frontal lobe like it had been eagerly waiting its turn.

I want twelve orgasms out of said sex.

As Abe had so thoroughly pointed out the other night, she could get twelve orgasms many ways, not just from sex. Which was fine by her. So maybe she just trimmed the sentence.
I want twelve orgasms.
One for each of the twelve days of Christmas.

It didn't much matter to her what the road map was for getting there. Abe could do that thing with his hands all day long and she'd be delighted. She'd light up like a freaking Christmas tree.

Meaning that one was covered as well.

Next one.

I want my stocking stuffed, repeatedly, on Christmas Day.

In this case, maybe she could make sure to note that the sex didn't have to be Christmas Day
only
. They could have tons of sex anytime, really, and it would be great by her.

She loosened her scarf slightly as her face heated to an uncomfortable temperature.
I want my stocking stuffed, repeatedly, on any day, but especially Christmas Day.

That should be an adequate change.

Leaving only one more.

I want toys wrapped with bows—that are all for adults.

How could she make that any clearer? She couldn't, was the answer. That one and the first one,
I want to start out kissing, but have it lead to sex
, were about as cut and dried as anything could be. If Abe found a way to poke holes in those rules, then he was going to be doing it for a reason other than clarity. He would be doing it as an excuse.

Maybe because he didn't want the list at all.

Maybe because he wanted
more
than the list.

Casey's muscles tensed. Either way, she wasn't going to worry about that right now. She'd cross that bridge when she presented the revised list to Abe. If he balked then, well, she'd get to the root of it and figure it out at that point.

In the meantime, she thought she'd done a pretty good editorial job. No matter that it had gotten her hot and bothered as she walked. She could feel sweat on her forehead and the back of her neck as she stepped into White Pine Hardware. A lawn reindeer raised and lowered its head in greeting. A red
SALE
sign was taped to the reindeer's back. N
OW ONLY $199.00!
She considered the purchase briefly before realizing she couldn't haul a lawn reindeer home, thanks to the fact that she'd walked. She swore she heard her wallet sigh with relief.

Dabbing her forehead with the back of her sleeve, Casey picked up a shopping basket and headed for the Christmas aisles toward the back of the store. She passed endcaps filled with shovels and sidewalk salt, gloves and hand-warmers and thick-soled boots. She had paused at a display of flameless candles and extra-long extension cords, wondering if she needed either—or both—when her back stiffened.

The grating rumble of Abe's voice was in her ears, on her skin, making it suddenly hard to hold on to her basket. “As a fireman, I can tell you flameless candles have a much higher safety rating than regular candles. In case that influences your purchasing decision.”

She turned, chin tilted upward to take in Abe's winter coat, his cashmere scarf, his sexy stubble from not yet having shaved today. He was unbearably handsome. She worked to keep her face expressionless. “And what about people who want candles
and
excitement? What do you say to them?”

He took a step closer. His cinnamon scent reached her. She trembled slightly.

“Fire's not the only way to get thrills,” he said.

She wanted to press her fingertips to his throat, to feel the rumble there as he spoke. Instead, she licked her lips. His sharp eyes watched her.

“Where can I find those thrills?” she asked. “Are they here at the hardware store on a Saturday morning?”

“You tell me,” Abe said. He brought a hand to her forehead. His fingers were deliciously warm. “You're looking a little—peaked. Everything okay?”

Casey bit her lip self-consciously. If only Abe knew it was the thought of him and the damn list that had her all riled up.

“I—I'm fine,” she said, forcing a smile and willing herself to cool down already. “I just walked here and put on too many layers.”

“Let me give you a ride home, then. When you're all done shopping for candles and…?”

“A gift for Audrey if I can find it. Not to mention Christmas stuff. I've finally resigned myself to the fact that my ornaments are lost. They never made it to the new house.”

Abe smiled sympathetically. “Need to swing by the Wheelhouse for a farewell beer? Godspeed, old ornaments, and all that?”

Casey laughed. “Little early for that, don't you think?”

“It's five o'clock somewhere,” Abe said. He glanced at the thick watch on his wrist. It gave Casey an excuse to stare at the downy blond hairs on his arm, to think about how those hairs had brushed against her skin when they'd been tangled on her couch together. Her body started to heat up all over again, and she wanted to kick herself. Was it completely impossible to be a normal temperature around Abe?

“I don't think I should put any booze in my body just yet,” Casey said. “But thanks.”

“So we'll drink Coke instead. A dry send-off is still a send-off.”

He smiled, his golden-green eyes locked on to hers. Her insides knotted uncomfortably. The friendliness in his gaze had her shifting. She wanted him to back her into a shelf and put a hand up her shirt. She wanted him to knee her legs apart and lick her neck, right here in the store. The scalding idea of his lust was so much more tolerable than the idea that he liked her and wanted to spend time with her.

Because Casey didn't want to be liked. She wanted to be fucked. She wanted to be taken every which way until Sunday and then some.

But nothing more. No feelings, for crying out loud.

Feelings led to complications. And complications led to hurt.

Her chest tightened as she remembered the way Miles had stormed off, and the anger in his eyes at her desire to be childless. He'd looked at her like she was
wrong
. Like she was a freak of nature.

Miles hadn't exactly been a passionate love affair, but he'd still wounded her deeply when he'd left. His practicality had matched hers. She hadn't thought for a second he'd go off and shock her, especially not by doing something as irrational as fleeing. She didn't think there was a single topic they couldn't tackle with logic, with reason.

It turned out there was, and she'd gone and found it like she was digging for buried treasure.

The memories froze her blood. She felt queasy.

The truth was, she'd endured enough loss in her life. Her parents weren't supposed to leave her, but they had. Miles wasn't supposed to race away, either, but he was gone.

Casey wasn't about to take any more risks.

She lifted her chin. Miles had been wrong about one thing: She wasn't a freak. She simply knew what she wanted.

“Why don't we just head to my place,” she said, low and full of meaning. “I've given my list some…thought. Some revision, even.”

Abe arched a brow, but didn't immediately respond. She waited, her heart hammering. Was he going to say no? Her concern that he'd found flaws in the list just to put her off came roaring back.

But then why would he want to give her a ride home if he didn't like her, didn't want her? She held her breath, waiting.

“I'll be over by the power tools when you're done shopping for ornaments,” he said, his eyes raking over her body. “Come find me.”

“How appropriate,” Casey said, inching closer. “Power tools. And after that, screws?”

Abe gave her ass a quick, hard smack. “I'd say let's find out,” he growled.

An hour later, Abe was helping cart bags full of tinsel, ornaments, lights, nativity scenes, and faux snow up Casey's sidewalk. His steps were even, but his mind was racing. He wanted more from Casey than her list, but he had no idea how to get her to think of him as anything but a hot lay.

Not that being a hot lay was
awful
. He could do a lot worse than putting his hands on her soft body, coaxing pleasure from her in waves that overtook them both.

His groin tightened, his lust aroused. He wanted Casey Tanner, there was no doubt. But he didn't want her just physically. He wanted her mentally and emotionally and…well, every little piece of her he could grasp. In sum, he wanted
all
of her.

Abe set the plastic bags on the kitchen table and went back for the next load. She'd nearly bought the whole store, her warm brown eyes shimmering with joy as she shopped. She'd confided in him that she loved Christmas, loved decorating, and it had been a blow when her ornaments had gone missing in the move.

“What company did you use?” he asked as they'd checked out, bags filling to the brim.

“Northwestern Movers.” She'd frowned at the name, and he'd made a mental note. If he could, he wanted to try to help her get back what she'd lost.

In the meantime, he stood in her cheery green kitchen, surrounded by Christmas décor, and watched her paw through her bags with delight. Her smile was infectious, her laugh bubbling. He couldn't help but grin as she put a wooden Santa on the windowsill.

Abe gathered up all the lights he could carry and headed for the tree. “Where are you going?” Casey called after him.

“I'm going to trim your tree.” He paused for a moment and gave her a wink. “And no, that's not a euphemism.”

Casey laughed, throaty and loud. The sound filled the house, and his chest tightened. He shouldn't be feeling so much for her. It was a dead end. She wanted her list, and that was it.