AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Not alone. There were other people who helped when the time came. But yes, they are safe now.”
“And then you just left?”
“I had to heal first.” He pointed to his shoulder. “Once I was out of the hospital, I packed up and started driving. Lou and the men still loyal to him would have killed me if I stayed around. Even worse, they could have used me to try to get to his wife and daughter. I couldn’t risk that.”
“Now you’re here in Cinderhill, peeling peaches and learning how to live off the land.” Reaching for the bowl next to him, Bailey brushed against the tense muscle of his bicep. She’d lived such a solitary life for so long, it was strange to be this close to a gorgeous man again. Brooding and charming, with a past that had clearly shaped him into the resilient but untrusting man he was today. She was growing more enamored with him by the minute.
Bailey leaned in closer and drew in the musk of his strong body.
“How am I doing?” King asked, proud that he’d made it through his pile of peaches.
"I think you've earned a little reward," she whispered, before taking a juicy slice of peach and popping it into his mouth. Her fingers lingered near his lips for a long beat.
King seemed to savor the sweetness of the fruit, his eyes never leaving Bailey's. She understood this was a dangerous game. A surefire way to end up with a pile of regret when he pulled away from Cinderhill. Judging by his lust-filled eyes, he knew the same, but didn’t care.
“This doesn’t seem all that bad,” King replied licking his lips and breaking the tension. “I could work like this. Living off the land isn’t nearly as difficult as you said.”
“There are seven more bushels of peaches to get through. You’ll be hunched over this bowl all morning. Plus, I’m starting you off easy. We’re chopping wood next. Everyone needs to be restocked. You think your back hurts now, just wait.”
King grinned, and there was a lightness in his step that hadn't been there before. He knew she was flirting with him and he clearly liked it. "Working up a sweat is one of my favorite hobbies.”
They worked in comfortable quiet as they stocked the shelves with peaches. This was the part of Cinderhill that always energized her. Creating something that would sustain everyone. Something they could share and enjoy. Doing it with King only heightened her enjoyment.
After hours of peeling and preserving, Bailey took his hand and led him out of the kitchen. "You did better than I expected.”
“That’s me,” King replied, pretending to be beaming with pride. “Exceeding expectations. But don’t think I didn’t notice you’ve gotten out of telling me anything. There’s definitely more to the story about your dad.”
“There is,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Tell him the whole thing,” Mrs. Tully said as she shuffled by with a small basket of tomatoes. “Tell him how the hunger for power corrupts men. How the charisma of a man like him can be more dangerous than a gun. How he ruled with an iron fist and poisoned the well that is Cinderhill.”
“Damn,” King said, raising his brows in surprise. “That’s pretty heavy.”
“It was a dark time here,” Bailey agrees, but found it hard to explain further. “Things are different now.”
“On a razor’s edge,” Mrs. Tully replied as King took the basket from her hands to lighten her load.
“What does that mean?” he asked, a grave look of concern painted on his face. “Your father isn’t coming back, is he? You said he’s locked up for a long time.”
“No. He’s not coming back,” Bailey retorted, giving Mrs. Tully a look of warning. King wouldn’t be around here long and it didn’t serve them to air all Cinderhill’s dirty laundry. “He’s never coming back. Things are peaceful again. People can make up their own minds. Live the lives they want. I’ve made sure of that, haven’t I?”
Mrs. Tully sighed and looked reluctant to stop the conversation. “You have, but at what cost?”
“We’re heading to the woodpile,” Bailey deflected tactfully. “I’ll make sure you’ve got plenty to keep you going for a while. We need to take advantage of this guy before he goes running out of here.”
“Put him to work,” Mrs. Tully teased, squeezing his bicep and seeming resigned not to push the topic of Cinderhill’s problems any further.
King still had a look of unease as she led him out of the kitchen and down the property toward a pile of fallen trees and large logs.
“Most of our power is solar. That runs our communal kitchen, as you just saw. It’s enough for the fridge and freezer, the electric stove, and a few other appliances. But in the housing units people only have wood stoves to cook on, like Mrs. Tully was doing yesterday with the stew.”
“And they don’t have bathrooms in their houses. I learned that the hard way last night at Moe’s.”
“It’s a short walk to the bathrooms.”
“A dark walk. I was unprepared. The wildlife was especially wild last night.”
“I don’t think the people who built Cinderhill minded the walk. They designed these little cinderblock square houses. Just big enough to keep the weather out. When my parents got here in the eighties, they were a big part of making improvements to them. My father poured the cement floors and then put down the hardwoods. He was no expert, but it helped. He insulated them the best he could. He helped build the furniture. He made sure each unit was as comfortable for people as possible while remaining true to the mission of Cinderhill.”
