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“Don’t go home,” she said as we approached her porch.
“I wouldn’t even if you told me to.”
A chuckle. We parted as we climbed the stairs, but I snagged her hand so I wouldn’t lose the connection.
Jolene and Bowie barked their way to the front door when they heard us, bounding out the second they could to stand on their hind legs and scratch at us, tails wagging and faces begging to be picked up. So we did.
Kit rounded the corner of the kitchen, wiping her hands on the towel slung over her shoulder.
“Everyone all right?” she asked, her face twisted up with worry.
“Everyone’s fine,” Olivia said wearily.
“Good,” Kit said on a sigh. “I hope you’re hungry. I made enough lasagna to feed a small country.”
I chuckled and glanced down at Olivia. Her face—nuzzled in Jolene’s neck—was smudged with soot, darker at her hairline where she’d missed when she tried to clean up. Her hands were streaked with black on the blonde of Jolene’s fur.
“I think we need to get cleaned up first,” I said.
Kit nodded once. “I’ll leave half a tray here and gather up the crew to make sure their bellies are full.”
“How many did you make?” Olivia asked.
“Five pans. The big ones,” she said sheepishly. “But go on. Go wash the day off and get some rest. I’ll be here in the morning, and you know where I am if you need me.”
“Thank you, Kit.” Olivia’s voice was rough from exertion and damage from the smoke. “For everything.”
Instantly, Kit’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I am just so relieved you’re all right.” Before either of us knew it, she flung her arms around us and held us close, kissing our cheeks. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
The puppies wriggled from inside the Kit sandwich, prompting her to let us go. I didn’t think she would have otherwise.
“Okay,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her apron. “Okay,” she repeated, this time a little stronger. “Now go. Shoo.”
We abided as she chased us up the stairs, setting the puppies down when we reached the top. They scampered off toward my room, but we went the other way, to the bathroom. I closed the door behind us with a snick.
We were a filthy mark in the pristine white of the room, from the white honeycomb-tiled floor to the shiplap walls. Olivia crossed the long space to the iron claw-foot tub, reaching in to turn the shower on.
I pulled off my shirt and tossed it in her hamper. She stopped in front of the mirror, assessing herself as she unraveled her hair from the hasty braid she’d thrown it in.
“God, I look terrible.”
I moved to stand behind her, taking a long look at the two of us. Her hair, bright against the dingy tinge to our skin. She came up to my shoulder, though mine were almost twice as wide as hers. She seemed so small next to me, the delicate shape of her sparking a protective flame in my heart.
“You couldn’t look terrible if you wore hillbilly teeth, shaved your head, and put all your clothes on backward.”
A laugh as she finger-combed her hair. “That’s oddly specific.”
I assessed our state in the mirror. “I keep forgetting we didn’t clean up.”
“At least you got a fresh shirt.”
“I mean, I did run the other one through a fire.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t excused.”
I reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled. She lifted her arms to let me, and I took great pleasure in watching her curly copper hair tumble down her back. Once free, she leaned back against me and met my gaze in the mirror.
“I don’t ever want to live a day like this again.”
“Me neither. But it would have been a hundred times harder if you hadn’t been there with me.”
“Well, I am your business partner,” she joked.
But I turned her around, held her face with all seriousness. “Not because of that.”
“I know,” she said softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared as I was waiting for you walk out of that fire.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved as I was when I saw you on the other side,” I admitted.
A smile brushed her lips. “Two days ago, you’d rather have kissed Sharon the goat on the lips than kiss me.”
“Not true,” I corrected as she reached for my belt buckle. I kicked off my work boots, and she kicked off hers. “I wanted to kiss you for longer than I’ll ever admit out loud, so don’t ask.”
“I bet you pulled all the girls’ pigtails in elementary school. I bet you were that boy girls are told to excuse for being a butthole because they like you.”
“Did you just say butthole?” I asked on a laugh.
“I said what I said.” She shimmied my jeans off, and I dropped hers.
