immediately recognized as
Kennick’s.
“I’m just tired as hell of watching him kill himself,”
the female voice said, sounding as tired as it claimed to be.
“Can’t change a man like that,” Kennick’s voice
responded, smooth and sympathetic. “I wish he’d listen to me but…”
“He ought to,” the female voice interrupted, now
sounding terse.
“He won’t. I’m too young. Hell, I feel weird trying to
give you advice, Beebi.”
“Ah, Kennick, you are young. But you have the right mind to lead us,” the female voice said. In
the pause that followed, Kim knocked, feeling awkward about having eavesdropped
in the first place.
She heard the people inside moving, and heavy
footsteps approaching the door. When Kennick pulled it open, she was caught
once more by his raw sex appeal. He was wearing a tight black shirt and
low-riding jeans that accentuated his lean, triangular frame. His ink-adorned
biceps were tanned and popped in the tight sleeves. His reddish beard invited
fingers to scratch it, while his long brown hair hung in a well-managed mess.
And those green eyes…shit.
“You,” he said, seeming more than a little surprised.
At first, she wondered if her association with the man who’d so recently
threatened him and his family would make her an unwelcome guest; but when he
smiled, slightly crooked and revealing a line of straight, white teeth, she
relaxed. “Ain’t this a surprise. Come in.”
His voice never ceased to thrill her; it was an
amalgam of accents and dialects. Sometimes, she swore he had a southern accent;
then, the next sentence would be pure Maine. She figured this was probably a
side-effect of having lived most of his life on the road.
He moved backwards and made space for her to enter.
She had to duck underneath the arm that still held the door open, and she
imagined what it would be like if that muscled arm fell, crossing her chest and
pulling her against that hard body. She blushed at her own thoughts and hoped
that he couldn’t read minds.
The woman she’d heard speaking was small but looked
strong in experience. Kim guessed her to be about forty. Her eyes were green,
her frame slight, and she wore a long, black dress that seemed exotic for its
plainness.
“Hello,” Kim said, looking around the trailer. It was
much bigger inside than it looked from the outside. The main room seemed to be
a mixture of a kitchen and a dining room, which opened on one side to a living
area with a bathroom at the far end. A wall built into the kitchen formed a
hallway on the other side, with three doors; two on each side and one in the
center. Bedrooms, she supposed.
More interesting than the layout was the way it was
decorated in bright colors, none of which seemed to fit together but somehow
made a cohesive and attractive pattern. The table was bright green, the two
hard-backed benches that served as seats flamingo pink. The walls were a soft
yellow, and decorated with elaborately dyed hanging shawls and ancient-looking
photographs. It looked every inch the gypsy caravan of myth.
“Beebi, this is Kim. She works at the Mayor’s office.
Helping us with our business licenses. Kim, this is my Aunt Ana,” Kennick
introduced the women. Ana studied Kim for a long moment before breaking into a
wary smile and offering her hand.
“A pleasure,” Ana said and Kim took her hand,
impressed by the woman’s no-nonsense grip. “Kennick, I’m going to go talk to
Baba Surry. She was asking me to show her how to make that cornbread from last
week. You all make yourselves at home. Beer in the fridge, you know.”
“Make sure you take Baba Surry shopping if she plans
on making that cornbread tonight,” Kennick said with a joking grimace. “I’d
hate to see a repeat of that chili debacle.”
He shuddered at the memory, turning to Kim with a
conspiratorial wink.
“Gave the whole damn kumpania the runs for a
Kennick’s.
“I’m just tired as hell of watching him kill himself,”
the female voice said, sounding as tired as it claimed to be.
“Can’t change a man like that,” Kennick’s voice
responded, smooth and sympathetic. “I wish he’d listen to me but…”
“He ought to,” the female voice interrupted, now
sounding terse.
“He won’t. I’m too young. Hell, I feel weird trying to
give you advice, Beebi.”
“Ah, Kennick, you are young. But you have the right mind to lead us,” the female voice said. In
the pause that followed, Kim knocked, feeling awkward about having eavesdropped
in the first place.
She heard the people inside moving, and heavy
footsteps approaching the door. When Kennick pulled it open, she was caught
once more by his raw sex appeal. He was wearing a tight black shirt and
low-riding jeans that accentuated his lean, triangular frame. His ink-adorned
biceps were tanned and popped in the tight sleeves. His reddish beard invited
fingers to scratch it, while his long brown hair hung in a well-managed mess.
And those green eyes…shit.
“You,” he said, seeming more than a little surprised.
At first, she wondered if her association with the man who’d so recently
threatened him and his family would make her an unwelcome guest; but when he
smiled, slightly crooked and revealing a line of straight, white teeth, she
relaxed. “Ain’t this a surprise. Come in.”
His voice never ceased to thrill her; it was an
amalgam of accents and dialects. Sometimes, she swore he had a southern accent;
then, the next sentence would be pure Maine. She figured this was probably a
side-effect of having lived most of his life on the road.
He moved backwards and made space for her to enter.
She had to duck underneath the arm that still held the door open, and she
imagined what it would be like if that muscled arm fell, crossing her chest and
pulling her against that hard body. She blushed at her own thoughts and hoped
that he couldn’t read minds.
The woman she’d heard speaking was small but looked
strong in experience. Kim guessed her to be about forty. Her eyes were green,
her frame slight, and she wore a long, black dress that seemed exotic for its
plainness.
“Hello,” Kim said, looking around the trailer. It was
much bigger inside than it looked from the outside. The main room seemed to be
a mixture of a kitchen and a dining room, which opened on one side to a living
area with a bathroom at the far end. A wall built into the kitchen formed a
hallway on the other side, with three doors; two on each side and one in the
center. Bedrooms, she supposed.
More interesting than the layout was the way it was
decorated in bright colors, none of which seemed to fit together but somehow
made a cohesive and attractive pattern. The table was bright green, the two
hard-backed benches that served as seats flamingo pink. The walls were a soft
yellow, and decorated with elaborately dyed hanging shawls and ancient-looking
photographs. It looked every inch the gypsy caravan of myth.
“Beebi, this is Kim. She works at the Mayor’s office.
Helping us with our business licenses. Kim, this is my Aunt Ana,” Kennick
introduced the women. Ana studied Kim for a long moment before breaking into a
wary smile and offering her hand.
“A pleasure,” Ana said and Kim took her hand,
impressed by the woman’s no-nonsense grip. “Kennick, I’m going to go talk to
Baba Surry. She was asking me to show her how to make that cornbread from last
week. You all make yourselves at home. Beer in the fridge, you know.”
“Make sure you take Baba Surry shopping if she plans
on making that cornbread tonight,” Kennick said with a joking grimace. “I’d
hate to see a repeat of that chili debacle.”
He shuddered at the memory, turning to Kim with a
conspiratorial wink.
“Gave the whole damn kumpania the runs for a
Similar Books
