When he walked into his studio, the smell of wet clay greeted him. The heavy blocks were sealed in thick bags, but somehow, the odor always permeated the room, and he loved it. He glanced at his pottery wheels and long, drying counters. The teapot in the shape of a cat sat ready to be painted in the corner. The customer wanted the teapot to look like a tuxedo cat—black with a white chin, nose, and paws—just like the picture she’d given him. He’d paint that after supper tonight.
He pulled on a work apron and got busy, finishing ten minutes before he had to leave for work. His cell phone rang and he glanced at his mom’s number.
“Hey, K, when you stop to deliver mail for us today, come up to the house and I’ll give you a casserole to drop off at Axel’s place.”
He grinned. This happened more often than he’d expected. People knew his route. If their houses came before a friend’s, they’d often give him something to drop off on his route, besides their mail. Not technically allowed, but this was Mill Pond. Rules could bend here.
He closed up his workshop and started toward town, slowing by the house to give a quick honk, and his mom blinked the front porch light in a good morning signal. He could picture her, standing at the front window in her flowered terrycloth robe with the sash pulled tight around her slim waist and her chin-length hair slightly mussed—a smart, pretty woman. She worked as a paralegal for the town’s main lawyer, but she must have taken today off.
When he got to the post office, Pete glanced up and grunted. “Heavy load today. More catalogues and ads than usual. That time of year, getting ready for the holidays.”
If Keagan wanted to finish his route before supper, he’d better get a move on. It was after eleven when he pulled up to his parents’ porch. He handed his mom their mail, and she handed him a cardboard box with a foil-covered, disposable pan inside it. He sniffed, and his mouth watered. “Tamale pie?”
She smiled and reached for a plastic container. “I made one for us, too, so you could have some.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.” His mom was a wonderful cook. He knew his way around a kitchen, but cooking for one person wasn’t that exciting, so he kept it simple. “Have a great day, Mom.”
“You, too.” She turned to go back inside and he heard his sister’s voice, and then he remembered. Mom and Marcia were canning vegetable soup together today, using up the last of whatever vegetables they’d picked from their gardens. It was an annual event before they tidied up their gardens for next spring. This year, good weather had hung on longer than usual, so they were just getting around to it.
He followed his route up and down country roads until he came to Axel’s house close to noon. Karli’s Dodge Charger was pulled in the driveway, close to the front door. The car’s trunk was open, and she was bending over to pull a box of cleaning supplies out of it.
Great ass. He shook his head, surprised at himself, but the woman was easy on the eyes. Don’t go there, he warned himself. She was the type of woman who’d cause him grief. Think with the right head this time. Three more bags of groceries poked out of the trunk.
Keagan hopped out of his truck and went to help her carry things into the kitchen. If he kept her at a distance, they could be friends. Anything more, and he’d regret it.
“Thanks.” She put the eggs and meat in the refrigerator, along with the milk. “I thought I’d stop in town and buy a few things before I came.”
“Good idea, there’s not much in the cupboards. My mom sent a casserole for you. I’ll go get it.”
She had most of the groceries put away when he came back—a bag of potatoes, a few cans of vegetables, and a can of coffee. She lifted the foil off the pan the minute he set it down. “This smells wonderful. What is it?”
“Tamale casserole. The bottom’s a mix of ground chuck, onions, diced tomatoes, and black beans. The crust’s a corn muffin mix.”
“I want some. How about you?” She tore the plastic off a stack of paper plates she’d bought. “I don’t trust any of the old man’s dishes until I wash them.”
He wouldn’t either. “I can’t stay, have to finish my route, but Mom said to tell you hi.”
Axel’s voice interrupted them. “If you two ever stop yapping, I’m hungry out here.”
“You haven’t gotten out of bed yet?” Keagan called.
“Don’t be daft. Had to use the bathroom, didn’t I? Then I got a bottle of Ensure.”
Karli rolled her eyes. “Tell your mom thanks. I appreciate the food.”
With a nod, Keagan left and returned to his truck. For the rest of his route, though, he thought about the casserole. And Karli. She was one cute girl, and she didn’t put up with any flack. A good thing, or Axel would run over her.
He thought of the house and felt sorry for her. She was one determined woman to stay in a place in shambles with an old man who was mean as spit. He didn’t think she had a prayer of convincing Axel to go to a nursing center, but she might be able to come up with something else. He wished her luck.
Chapter 4
Karli took a plate out of the cupboard and washed it. Axel would need something sturdy to eat on. She searched the kitchen drawers for silverware and washed those, too. While she rinsed and dried them, her mind drifted to Keagan. He was plenty attractive, despite the scars on the left side of his face. There was something about him that intrigued her. He was quiet, secure in his own skin. She glanced at her reflection in the kitchen window. Guys always hit on her. Always. But he acted indifferent. It bugged her.
She dished the hot food onto Axel’s plate. She’d see Keagan tomorrow when he delivered the mail. Maybe she’d wear a V-neck shirt, show a little cleavage. Maybe he was a boob guy and not into legs. When she started her new job in Indy, it would last three months. She could easily drive down here a few times a month if she and Keagan connected. She shook her head. What the hell was she thinking? She didn’t have to chase guys. They chased her. She’d better get a grip.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing out there? Eating the casserole without me?” Axel shouted.
“There was steam coming off it. Too hot. It should be okay now.” She carried the food into his room. An empty carton of cottage cheese sat on his TV tray. Good. He’d wheeled himself into the kitchen last night to get it and then wheeled for Ensure this morning.
“Did you clean a spot for your lunch?” She reached for the remote to turn down the volume on the TV, but he snatched it first.
“Leave my things be. I like it this loud.”
“I’ll turn it up later. I’d like to talk to you while you eat.”
He got a mulish look on his face and pulled the remote closer to his chest.
She looked at the full plate of tamale pie she’d carried in and shrugged. “Fine.” She turned to carry it back to the kitchen.
“Where are you going, girl? I said I’m hungry.”
“Then turn down the TV.”
He glared. “It don’t matter what you say. I ain’t gonna do anything you want.”
“Then I’ll bring you a carton of applesauce.”
His gaze riveted on the hot food, and he tossed the remote on a nearby chair. “There. You happy now?”
He