Where It All Began (Phoenix Falls Series)

The next morning Kitty has a surprise for Kaleb of her own.

“River’s coming up earlier than expected,” she says, re-washing her hands in the sink. She’s just come inside from dealing with the animals and there’s straw-dust floating all around her. My eyes trail down her exposed legs as I lean against the counter, scratching at my jaw as I take in her scuffed pink knees. God, she’s tiny.

I shift my body weight as certain muscles begin to wake up. If Kaleb wasn’t here right now…

Kaleb almost drops the bottle of milk in his hand, snapping me right out of my fantasy.

“What?!” Crimson heat climbs up his neck.

Kitty raises an eyebrow at his outburst. “I said River’s coming up earlier-”

Kaleb puts the milk on the counter and tilts his head towards his sister, his eyes almost as wide as hers.

“I heard what you said,” he says, a desperate twinge rattling in his voice.

I step between them because he’s acting unhinged. I breathe out a confused laugh and then clap him on the shoulder, trying to slap some common sense into him.

“You alright?” I ask, eyeing him sceptically.

I hear a quiet laugh coming from Kitty behind me. Luckily for her, Kaleb doesn’t.

“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head solemnly. I’m no psychologist but that seems a little juxtaposed. “It’s just, uh…”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Yeah?” I ask, confused as hell.

Now that I think about it, he was even being shifty when Mitch mentioned River coming up at the bar last week. Why would Kaleb be weird about that?

“I can tell him if you want.” Kitty’s quiet voice sounds out at my back.

Kaleb lifts his head and twists so that he can look at her around my torso.

“It’s stupid,” he says.

I can almost hear Kitty rolling her eyes.

“Go upstairs Kaleb, you have a big task today anyway. I’ll… fill Madden in whilst you’re getting ready.”

Kaleb’s big task is their summer hay cutting agenda. It’s vital for them to do it before any chance July showers hit Phoenix Falls.

Kaleb doesn’t argue with her. I release my hold on his shoulder and watch him cautiously as he mounts the stairs.

I turn to Kitty for the explanation, although a big part of me stops caring about getting one the second that I lay my eyes on her again. A very big part of me. Instead I’m thinking that this conversation can get picked up at another time and that maybe right now we should have that kiss.

Kitty, on the other hand, is all business.

“Kaleb’s got a crush,” she says simply, reaching up to open the cupboard above the stove and assessing all of the new cereals I bought for her.

It’s like Walmart in there now. Multicoloured Fruit Loops, Teddy Grahams, those chocolate-chip circles that look like little cookies – I went to the store yesterday afternoon to pick up bottles for Kaleb’s get-together, and whilst I was there I decided to buy all of those vegetarian-friendly pretty cereals that Kitty’s been obsessed with since she was a teenager.

She taps a finger against her chin, contemplating her bounty like a little duchess.

“I really oughta thank Kaleb for getting these,” she mumbles.

Heat prickles up my cheekbones but I choose not to correct her.

“Who does Kaleb have a crush on?” I ask in an attempt to re-steer the conversation. I’m immediately distracted when she jumps up to grab the box of her choice, her little curves bouncing with the movement.

My boxers are suddenly too tight for me, and I grunt as I subtly try to rearrange myself. Her tank tops are gonna be the death of me.

“River, of course,” she replies, her tone saying duh.

I literally have no idea what we were just talking about.

“River?” I ask, my voice a little breathless. Then I register what she just said and I’m suddenly more alert. “Wait, River, as in-”

“As in Tate’s fiancé, River,” she says, her eyes sliding to mine.

We share a look. Mine says oh shit and hers says I know.

“Kaleb obviously can’t stay here tonight,” I realise. “’Cause if he goes sniffing around River, Tate would…”

A bit of context. Tate Coleson is the greatest guy I know – humble, God fearing, and totally in love with his fiancé – but, because of all of that, he isn’t the type to let things slide when it comes to the things that he cares about. He’s traditional and no-nonsense and boy would that dude look good in orange.

“Yeah,” she agrees, a petal pink flush settling on her cheeks. “I guess Kaleb can’t stay here tonight.”

Which means…

I raise my eyebrows.

Oh.

And with Kaleb not being here tonight, does she mean that maybe…?

Suddenly the look that we’re sharing is blazing with heat.

Fuck yeah, I think to myself.

Thank God for Tate Coleson.

*

Kaleb’s been in the world’s foulest mood and if he wasn’t on hay cutting duty today I bet every note in my pocket that he’d be strumming out sad songs in his childhood bedroom right now. It’s a good job that he’s preoccupied on the fields because it’s only a little after eleven when Tate and River finally pull up.

Kitty’s just come back from a milk-related mission in town and is currently dusting out the barn that I’ve almost finished renovating, so I head inside the cabin to open up the front door.

I lean against the doorframe as I watch Tate park up the car, easing into a shady spot beside the detached garage to the right of the cabin. He’s driving that piece of scrap that his dad calls a truck, probably because he’s got his bike strapped down in the back and, unlike Tate’s monstrous black Ford, a few new scratches will blend in just fine in the bed of Mitch’s vehicle. The windows are partially rolled down and I can hear that Tyler Childers “Feathered Indians” song that he loves so much playing on the stereo.

I roll my eyes. Tate is six-four, tan as hell, and pushing two-hundred and forty pounds, and yet he’s still the sweetest guy that I’ve ever had the chance to meet.

When he cuts off the music I watch as he turns to face the vision in pink to his right, and a soft chime of laughter drifts into the warm hazy air. He leans towards her, probably giving her a peck, and I grind my boot in the gravel as I wait for them to wrap it up.

He opens the driver’s door and steps into the dirt, a cloud of sandy particles kicking up around his heel. When he spots me he gives me a flash of white teeth and a quick jerk of his chin.

“How’s it going, man?” he calls out.

He rounds the front of the “truck”, pulls open the passenger side door, and then I hear the thud of his tiny fiancé hopping down from the step, followed by the door being closed and their shoes scraping up the dusty driveway.

Tate gives me an easy smile when they come into view, walking with the confidence of a man who gets it twice every morning and three times a night. River beside him is lucky to be walking at all.

Tate wraps one heavily pumped arm around River’s shoulders and manoeuvres her so that she’s walking directly in front of him, his forearms binding her petite clavicle so that he can clutch her tightly against his abs.

“All’s good,” I reply, giving him a quick smile of my own. “Saw your dad not too long ago and he mentioned that you were stopping by.”

He gives me a smile. “Hope we’re not intruding too bad.”

River snorts and I flash her a look, trying to work out what I’m missing. Little demon. I know that Tate gets the good side of her but I don’t doubt that she can still be hellish when she wants to be.

When they step inside Tate moves his hands so that they’re wrapped around River’s collarbones, and he gives her a little squeeze.

“You got a bathroom around here?” he asks me, scoping out the interior of the cabin. It’s all open plan down here, with the exception of the guest room at the back that I’ve been staying in, so he looks up to the gallery landing, guessing that the bathroom will be up there.

I nod and jerk my thumb over to the stairwell. “It’s just up there. There aren’t too many rooms and the door’ll probably be open. Keep the seat down,” I add on and, after another little squeeze, he unleashes himself from his fiancé and starts climbing the stairs.

River gives me one disgruntled look, turns her back on me, and then heads into the kitchen.

“Sup emo,” I say, following her like the brother that she never wanted.

“Suck a fuck Madden,” she says dryly, her expression bored.

I can’t help but smile. Even though she’s all cutesy dresses and pastel colours now I still remember what’s underneath that candyfloss exterior. I recall her high school days, before she took that gap year working for Tate’s dad and then started her degree at college.

I know how dark and cut-throat she really is.

“Don’t hold back,” I tease, folding my arms over my chest as she opens the fridge. “You’re quite a contradiction you know. No one would expect such a bunny rabbit to be a hardcore metal baby.”

She pulls out a juice box, inspects the label, then puts it down again. “I like hearing men scream.”

I laugh. “I bet you do.” God knows what she and Tate have been getting up to this summer.

She rolls her eyes. “Leave me alone, Madden. Go write Kit a poem or something.”

I raise an eyebrow. Then I narrow my eyes.

Annoyingly this seems to lift her spirits. She picks up the juice box again, punctures it with the straw, and then takes a long antagonising suck, eyes scorching into my own.

“Yeah,” she says. “You thought that I wouldn’t know? I mean, speaking of contradictions, surely you could say the same thing about Kit.”

I clench my jaw as my blood pounds through my veins.

“All-black everything on the outside, yet so soft and silky on the inside?” she suggests, a taunting glow shimmering all around her. “But maybe,” she continues, suddenly dropping her voice to a whisper. “I guess you wouldn’t know how soft and silky she is on the inside.”

I stop breathing completely. A red cloud of envy sheathes over my brain.

“What did you just say?” I ask, my irises aflame.

What the hell does she know? That I’m obsessed with Kitty? That I haven’t got to her… soft bits yet?

How does she know?

Her responding smile is enough for me to want to smash my head through a wall. She takes another long draw on her juice box until the carton turns concave. She tosses it into the waste-paper basket on the floor and gives me an unbothered shrug.

“I’ve been through my share of shit and misunderstandings, so I know now to trust my gut. I can just tell. You’re all…” She waves her hand vaguely in front of my abdomen and makes a kind of disgusted wincing face. “Pent up.”

I can’t help but laugh. I mean, she’s not wrong. I turn around and close the fridge door so that I can press my forehead into it and cool off.

“So,” I grunt, then cough because I feel uncomfortable. “Kitty hasn’t been… Kitty didn’t say-”

It’s her turn to laugh. “No Madden. Kitty didn’t tell me about your nonexistent romance.”

A shudder runs through me. Thank God.

I turn to face her because there’s another question on my mind – namely, does Kitty talk about me at all – but River holds up a finger to silence me before I can begin.

“No more questions,” she commands. When I open my mouth to speak she holds her finger up higher and gives me a withering stare. “No.”

I bunch up my jaw muscles. Fine.

“Kitty’s out back if you want to go see her,” I say, seeing as our conversation is clearly over.

She brushes past me without a parting glance.

The last thing that I hear from her as she steps outside is a little shriek and, “Is that a hot tub?!”