Going Under (Wildfire Lake 2)

ner. It takes twice as long, but I’m hoping it will pay off when I’m old and they’re taking care of me. At least they’ll be able to feed me well.”

That makes her laugh.

“And, as you told Violet, if you’re gonna stay, I’m putting you to work.”

“You might want to rethink that. I’m a master at peanut butter and jelly, but that’s about it. I was always fed by the chefs on the ship. I haven’t cooked since my dad died.”

I put a bowl in front of her and pile of salad ingredients on the counter—lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, carrot, cheese, raisins, sunflower seeds, croutons, chia seeds, hemp hearts. Then put out a cutting board and a knife. “You really can’t mess up a salad.”

“Good God, you’re serious.”

“Those three will be whining for food in fifteen minutes.” I usually start dinner right when I get home, and having the girls cook with me distracts them from being hungry.

KT stares at the ingredients in horror. “What happened to the ones where you open a bag and dump it in a bowl?” Then she slides off the stool and moves to the sink to wash her hands. “You’ll be sorry. Just sayin’.”

This probably wasn’t my best idea. She looks good in my kitchen. I stop what I’m doing to slide up behind her, wrap her in my arms, and kiss her neck. The woman makes me crazy. I feel things for her that I never felt for the other women I’ve dated.

KT shuts off the water and dries her hands on a kitchen towel, then reaches back to run a hand through my hair. “I like this kind of dinner way better.”

God, this woman. She makes me want things I was beginning to believe I’d never feel again.

I press my face to the hollow between her shoulder and neck and breathe deep of her natural scent. She’s intoxicating. I want to sink into her and rest. Until the heat kicks up too high to ignore. Then I want to let that fire rage until the flames are doused, then bask in the embers.

But I’ve got too much responsibility on my shoulders for any of that. So, I let her go and start making lasagna from the ingredients I prepared yesterday. I layer precooked noodles, sausage, and marinara with cheese and spinach. In seven minutes flat, I slide the pan into the oven.

KT’s still working on tearing up the lettuce for the salad. “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast in the kitchen.”

“It’s all in the prep.” I pull a loaf of sourdough from the fridge for garlic bread. “I use my days off to get ninety percent of dinner prepped for the coming week. Tell me about your day.”

“It was so exciting,” she says with mock enthusiasm. “All things mechanical and a break to work out. Scintillating, I tell you.”

“Where do you work out?”

“The shop. I have all my weights and mats set up in there.”

I think back. “I didn’t see them.”

She gets that hot little grin. “We were a little busy.” She finishes with the lettuce and starts cutting the tomato. “But with the work I do, it’s a necessary evil. What happened for you today?”

“It seemed like kid day—baby projectile vomiting, boy with a bump the size of an egg on his head, little girl with croup, another boy who needed a few stitches. That kind of stuff.”

She nods. “So tell me about your babysitter.”

That seems like an odd subject shift. “Isabel?” I shrug. “She’s a girl my sister found when I first got to town. I have a service looking for a nanny, but my schedule makes it hard to find a good fit. My mom and sister help out when they can, and Jackie said she was going to keep an eye out for another potential backup babysitter.”

KT nods but doesn’t comment.

“Why?” I wrap the bread in foil and set it on the stove to pop in when the lasagna is almost done.

KT sighs. “Nothing. Just wondering.”

“It’s something,” I say, pleased I’m able to read her even this little bit after knowing her such a short time.

Her gaze flicks to mine, then back to the tomatoes. She takes the cut pieces between her hand and the knife and drops them in the bowl, then starts on the cucumber. “It’s not my place—”

“KT.” When she looks at me again, I say, “If it involves the girls, I want to know about it.”

Still, she hesitates. “It’s just…when I came in, she didn’t introduce herself, and she didn’t care who the heck I was or why I was in your house. I know I’m a woman and not exactly threatening, but when I say she didn’t care, I mean she barely pulled her eyes from the phone to glance at me. And unless she was in on Violet’s plan, she had no idea what Violet was doing or how she’d pulled Jazz into it. She didn’t even attempt to clean up, she just let the water spill onto the floor and soak into the carpet. And Poppy and Jazz were watching cartoons with violence and swearing. You don’t strike me as a parent who would allow that.”