Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

J osie Baldwin. Corey shook his head.

She was as stubborn as they came.

That had been obvious to him for all the years they'd grown up next door to each other. He'd seen her plant her hands on her hips, lift her chin, and stand up to her big brother Quinn as if he weren't three years older and a good foot taller.

It was more than obvious now as she glared at him while he was trying to help her. And she clearly needed help.

"What happened?" he asked, even though she looked like she'd rather do anything other than tell him. Even try to tackle the array of power tools scattered around her in the garage.

She belted the problem at him in one, long, rapid fire run-on sentence.

When she finished, she pressed her lips together and let out a huff accompanied by a frown.

Ignoring that she was still inexplicably angry at him, or herself, or perhaps just the cats she'd mentioned in her diatribe, he reviewed the situation.

From what he could decipher, it involved kittens and walls and possible death.

Although her story had been all over the place. He wasn't sure if it was the kittens' possibly impending death or her own when her parents got home and killed her for screwing up that had her so upset. Possibly both.

He glanced down at the reciprocating saw she held in one hand, in addition to the other tools she'd piled on the workbench, including a circular saw. He imagined its wheel of deadly sharp teeth wielded in her hands.

At least she hadn't tried to use the chainsaw. It still sat in its place high on the shelf above them. Perhaps she just couldn't reach it. She seemed ready to try anything.

They might actually need some of those tools later, but for now, he figured they'd start small. With some manual, less damaging, non-power tools.

"How about we put the sharp things down and look for a less destructive alternative?" he suggested.

With a huff she set down the reciprocating saw.

"Good girl," he said, taking the hammer from her hand and picking up a crowbar from the bench.

When he glanced up he saw a renewed, hotter than usual hatred in the glare she sent him from between narrowed eyes.

He frowned. What had he done now? Whatever it was, she didn't like it.

In what he hoped would be a calming voice, he said, "All righty. So how about we go inside and take a look?"

He didn't wait for her reply, just turned toward the back door of her house.

The sound of her footsteps as she scurried to catch up with his longer stride heralded her pulling ahead of him as they both headed toward the house.

She paused only long enough to glance back and shoot him another annoyed-looking glare.

Maybe he deserved that one. He had been staring at her ass as she trotted past him.

Of course he had been. What man wouldn't? It was unavoidable as her butt cheeks moved temptingly beneath the tight stretchy pants she wore with a cropped T-shirt.

He'd had his hands on that perfect heart-shaped ass once upon a time. Back during those couple of weeks that summer when his world was so upside down he didn't remember much of anything about it.

But now, home again and face-to-face with Josie—or rather face-to-ass right now—he remembered those stolen moments he'd spent with her. Away from his newly widowed mother. Away from the grief. Away from his own guilt and self-hatred.

He pushed all the bad feelings aside again as they crept upon him along with the good memories of having lost himself inside Josie's body back then. Things weren't like they had been. Mom was okay now. Thriving, even—as long as she didn't fall off the counter. And judging by Josie's demeanor, a repeat of that summer was not on the table so there was no use thinking about it.

She'd been plenty into him then, but now she was most definitely not. Or maybe she was off men and sex altogether. Who knew? Certainly not him.

He'd barely known her back then given she was younger than he was. Two grades difference in school had felt huge. Freshmen and Juniors didn't mingle. And even though he played hockey with Quinn, Josie didn't run in the same circles as her brother or as Corey.

And he hadn't been around enough these past ten years to know anything about this Josie. The grown-up version who served on committees and drank tea with his mom's old lady friends.

He had to wrestle his mind off the memories and his own thoughts as she disappeared through the back door and sprinted up the stairs, making him have to hurry a bit himself to catch up.

The moment he saw the kitchen, he felt an undeniable sense of familiarity. He hadn't been inside it in years, and even then it had only been maybe a dozen times, but it still felt the same.

Reminders of his youth—and the Baldwin siblings—were everywhere.

A framed certificate with Josie's name on it for some honor society thing hung next to a picture of his and Quinn's official hockey team photo, all these years later. As if Quinn was about to walk through the door and dump his gear bag on the floor.

As Josie stormed on ahead, Corey didn't have time to look closer but he knew he was there in that photo. Back row. Far right.

Funny how some memories were so clear—even the seemingly insignificant ones—while other far more important ones faded.

The Baldwin house always had a feeling of warmth. Cozy. Even now with Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin away.

Not that his own upbringing had been bad. His family just wasn't like the Baldwins.

Here, friends would drop in. Stay for dinner or to watch a game on TV. The invite was always there. The door always open.

Corey had even accepted once or twice, while he and Quinn had been playing in the league. Teammates. Hockey buddies. Not friends but it was enough. Corey was more loner than not back then anyway.

The Navy had kind of cured that impulse—that need to have his own space. To be alone. Thank God he'd changed, or it would have been unbearable living on an aircraft carrier for the past five months.

Last time he'd been inside this room Quinn's mother had been baking them frozen pizza rolls in the toaster oven that used to be—make that still was—on the kitchen counter. And if he wasn't mistaken that might be the same Mr. Coffee machine next to it.

The Baldwin kitchen was vintage. Old school. He liked it. There'd been too much change in his life lately for him not to value and appreciate the things that remained the same.

"They went in through the pipe hole under the kitchen sink," Josie explained as he stood in the kitchen, lost in his memories.

Her comment brought him back to the present, to where Josie knelt on hands and knees on the kitchen floor and stared up at him.

Her current position put too many ideas into his head. Which was especially bad since he'd changed into PT shorts to get ready for a run. They wouldn't hide anything. Definitely not the hard-on that would make a very untimely appearance if he didn't wrestle his libido into check.

He cleared his throat and squatted down next to her, concentrating on peering into the dark cabinet beneath the sink.

"That's a pretty tiny hole," he commented when he saw the space around the pipe.

"They're pretty tiny kittens," she snarked back.

"You sure that's where they are?" he asked, still doubtful.

"Yes. I watched one go through and into the wall."

He frowned. "Why didn't you stop it?"

The glare she sent him would have wounded him, if she didn't look so damn cute delivering it.

"Give me that. I'll do it myself." She reached to grab the hammer out of his hand.

He was faster. He pulled the tools away. "Now wait a minute. No need to rush."

"Yes, there is! They could be anywhere by now."

"Then it makes no sense to make a hole here, does it? We don't even know where they are in the walls."

Lips pressed tightly she snorted out a huff but didn't argue. Point for him.

"These old houses have balloon construction…" he began.

With a loud expulsion of air, she said, "I don't know what that is."

"It means you can pretty much see from the attic straight down the walls to the basement. And if your house is anything like mine, the basement is unfinished. Bare wood studs. No sheetrock on the ceiling?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Good. So let's take that box of cat food, go downstairs, and shake it?—"

"I already shook the food," she said, sounding frustrated.

"Well, we'll just have to see if they've had enough fun in the walls by now and are ready to come out and eat."

"And if they don't?"

"We'll try the attic." Corey saw Josie open her mouth to protest yet again and cut her off. "And if they don't come out, we'll keep trying until they do. They'll eventually get bored or hungry."

"Or stuck or trapped," she added.

"If they're tiny enough to fit in that hole," he said, pointing beneath the sink. "They're too small to get stuck between the beams. So we wait for them to come out."

Judging by the way she had her mouth screwed up, she wasn't happy with this plan.

Josie was obviously a woman of action. Not the type to bide her time or sit around and wait.

She'd hate his job. Most of his duties on the ship consisted of doing exactly that—sitting around and waiting. In his case he'd be waiting for an enemy drone attack, not a couple of bored kittens, but still…

"Fine," she spouted, climbing to her feet.

She stormed toward the basement stairs as he tried to control his smile over her little tantrum. He might not know everything about Josie but he was pretty sure she wouldn't take kindly to being laughed at.

Although seeing her angry and all riled up was turning out to be the highlight of his day.