Chapter Six

Sylvia hadn't returned after her meeting, which wasn't unusual since she often met with her sponsor afterward before returning to her home outside Merrilton. Her absence had given Dev the perfect excuse for avoiding the summer kitchen—and its tempting new student—for the rest of the day, although he could pinpoint the exact moment Casey entered his room in Harrison House.

Not that I'll ever admit it out loud.

He wished he could convince Sylvia move to Home—he had at least half a dozen Harrison properties with no current tenants—but Sylvia insisted she wanted to keep where she lived separate from both work and her ongoing recovery.

Maybe someday, if Dev could figure out how to bring more activities to town that were interesting but still maintained the town's atmosphere, Sylvia would reconsider. Since he'd been racking his brains for that Holy Grail from the moment he'd arrived following Garlan's death, however, he didn't really expect to have a sudden epiphany.

It was still on his mind, though—along with that tantalizing glimpse of Casey's ass—as he pounded down the street at dawn the next day on his morning run. He'd made the circuit of West Road and was on his way back, slowing to a stop as usual by the small marble plaque that marked where Garlan and Grandfather had gone off the road.

As he crouched to run a finger across the date carved into the surface, Ty emerged from the path down to the flooded quarry, shirtless, his skin still glistening with water from his swim and, for some reason, holding a battered cardboard box and wearing a thunderous scowl.

"Hey." Dev stood and nodded at the box. "People leaving trash by the quarry again?"

Ty grunted. "Give me your T-shirt."

"What?"

Ty thrust out his hand. "Just give me your damn T-shirt, Dev."

Clearly, Ty was in one of his moods. "Fine." He skinned off his T-shirt—he was overheated anyway—and handed it over. "Although if you're chilly, you should bring your own shirt next time. Or, you know, a towel."

Ty snatched the shirt with another grunt—he never wasted his bedside manner on actual humans—and hunkered down, setting the box on a patch of coltsfoot. Instead of donning the shirt himself, however, he laid it inside the box and lifted out—

"Holy shit. Is that a kitten?" The little scrap of sodden fur was smaller than Ty's palm and seemed composed entirely of a wide, pink mouth and tiny white teeth.

"Yes. I scared the asshole away before he could toss the rest of them in."

"The rest?" Dev knelt next to Ty. Two other kittens—a brown tabby and a black and white tuxedo—peered up at him with round blue eyes. Their ears hadn't migrated to the tops of their heads yet, so they had to be young. "Christ. Are they even weaned?"

Ty cradled the wet kitten against his chest as he blotted its fur. "Not a chance."

Dev swallowed against a surge of anger. "The mother?"

"Don't know. I didn't see a body in the water, but that doesn't mean much. He could have weighted her down. It's happened before. People from as far away as Rutland use this as a dumping ground." Ty glared down the road toward Home. "The shelter is literally half a mile away. There's no reason for this kind of cruelty unless you're a fucking serial killer in the making."

"Did you get a good look at the guy?" Dev's own scowl deepened. "It wasn't someone from Home, was it?"

Ty fried him with his death glare. "Of course not." He placed the mostly dry kitten—another brown tabby—in the box with its siblings and tucked Dev's T-shirt around all three of them. "I didn't recognize him. I don't suppose you saw an unfamiliar car on the highway?"

"I stayed off the highway until just now, so no." He waited until Ty hefted the box again. "Have you got enough volunteers to bottle-feed three more kittens?"

"I'll manage." Ty didn't look at him, which probably meant no. Most of his volunteers were high school kids, so round-the-clock care would fall on him again.

"If you need help…"

Ty shot him a wry smile. "You know I can hear the terror in your voice, right?" He gave the box a gentle pat. "You don't need to sacrifice yourself. Between Val and me, we can wrangle the livestock. You've got enough to do handling the human contingent."

"I wouldn't mind, you know. I don't have your deep and abiding love for all things furred and feathered—"

"Don't forget scaled. I don't discriminate against fish and reptiles."

"—but I'm not down with animal cruelty either."

Ty's smile turned fond. "I know. And if I really needed help, I'd ask. Which favor, by the way"—his eyes narrowed—"I'd expect you to return. We're family, Dev. You need me? I'm there."

"Thanks, man. Appreciate it."

"Appreciate it all you want as long as you actually take advantage of it."

As they rounded the corner onto East Road and Ty's clinic came into view, a familiar furry orange form stood up on the porch and trotted down the steps. Randolph Scott stopped right in front of them, blocking the sidewalk, and looked up, his gaze riveted on the box, ears twitching at the frantic cheeping coming from inside.

Dev bent down to give the cat's ears a skritch. "I thought you said he was avoiding you because of the S-H-O-T?"

Ty lifted a brow. "I'm not sure whether to be worried that you think it's necessary to spell out shot in front of him or that you don't realize he understands it when you spell it out anyway. Besides, that's taken care of." Now his smile was definitely evil. "Kenny and your new boarder stepped in. Mission accomplished."

Dev's skin heated more than he could blame on the early sunlight. "He's not my boarder. He's Sylvia's student." Whom I'm avoiding like a lovesick junior high kid.

"But he's living in Harrison House, and you own the place, so he's your boarder." Ty's grin grew. "And may I say that the scenery around Harrison House is definitely looking up?"

"Why? You looking for a date?" Dev growled, and then he grimaced. Make that a jealous lovesick junior high kid.

Ty scoffed. "Not me. I'm happy on my own. Anyway, sex is overrated." He tapped the box with one finger. "Look at the trouble my patients get in because of it. But you?" He knelt down and lowered the box so Randolph Scott could inspect the kittens. "You aren't meant to fly solo."

Dev snorted at Ty's comment as well as at Randolph Scott's expression of outraged betrayal. "I tried the duo flight once. Didn't work out."

"It didn't work out because Nash Tambling is a fucking narcissistic diva with a much higher opinion of his own talent than it deserves. Casey seems like someone who isn't blinded by the glow of his own self-importance. He's nice." Ty waggled his eyebrows. "And has an ass even finer than Kenny's."

Dev peered down at him, eyebrows climbing. "You're checking out Kenny's ass?"

Ty stood up again and tucked the box of kittens under his arm. "I told you. I can enjoy the scenery even when I have no desire to do anything about it. Besides, Kenny is off-limits."

"Why? Because he's practically our brother?"

"Because, oh oblivious one, he's already taken." Ty walked up the steps to the clinic, leaving Dev standing with his jaw sagging.

"Kenny's seeing somebody? Who? How did I not know this?" Ty didn't turn around, so Dev raised his voice. "Is the guy good enough for him? He's not good enough. He can't be good enough. That's why you didn't say anything."

Ty stood in the open door. "If Kenny wants you to know, he'll tell you. Now go home. You've got a boarder to ogle." He stepped inside and shut the door.

"I don't ogle," Dev muttered. He took Randolph Scott's mew as agreement and stalked off down East Road, cutting through the Historical Society side yard to Main Street with Randolph Scott trotting along at his heels. "Although if I did," he said to the cat, "Casey would be a prime candidate."

He came out onto the sidewalk next to the Market just as Casey was trotting down its steps, a to-go cup in his hands. His steps slowed when he spotted Dev and his eyes widened, a blush painting his cheeks.

Shit. Heat rushed up Dev's throat too. Had Casey heard Dev talking to the cat about him? How about did he hear me talking to the cat, full stop?

"G-good morning." Casey lifted his cup. "I was just fortifying myself with a latte for my first day in Summer Kitchen."

Dev winced. "Shit. I didn't give you the house orientation last night, did I?" He'd been so fixated on, well, not fixating, that he'd completely neglected his duties to Casey as a Harrison House guest. "You've got free use of the House kitchen. Since you're the only one staying there now, the fridge is all yours, and the pantry—"

"Don't worry." Casey took a sip of his latte. "I found the House manual when I was snooping. That's a great idea, by the way, having all the information collected and accessible like that."

"Thanks. That was my mom's idea, actually." Dev chuckled despite the usual pang under his heart over his mother's absence. "She got tired of everybody asking her where the sugar was."

"Well, she deserves a medal."

"She did."

Casey blinked up at Dev. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't realize she was—"

"She's not." When Casey flinched at the sharpness of Dev's tone, Dev cringed himself. "Sorry. Didn't mean to snap. Mom's not gone. I mean, she's gone from Home, but still living." Maybe someday Dev could convince her to come back, if only during the summer. After Garlan and Grandfather's accident, coming so soon after the one that led to the Inn's closing, she'd declared she never wanted to see ice and snow again. Dev cleared his throat. "You heading back to the house?"

"To the summer kitchen, yes." He began edging down the sidewalk. "I should probably get moving. Wouldn't want to be late."

Dev fell into step beside Casey, who blushed even rosier before shifting his gaze to his feet. "Nervous about your first day?"

"You have no idea." Casey clutched his cup in both hands, cradling it against his chest. "This whole thing has disaster written all over it."

"What whole thing?" Dev bristled a bit. If Casey was talking about Home…

"The whole thing where I'm supposed to become a Michelin-worthy chef in three months." He gazed around at Main Street, with its retro streetlamps and wide greensward dotted with maples and wooden benches. "If I never had to actually cook anything, this would be like heaven."

Dev frowned. "Wait a minute. You have to do what?"

"You heard me." Casey heaved a sigh. "You ever heard of Donald Friel?"

"The chef?" When Casey nodded, Dev smacked his forehead. "Friel. Casey Friel. You're related?"

Casey nodded. "His son. His flagship restaurant closed after his heart attack. Having the chef drop dead in the middle of dinner service has a deleterious effect on reservations. Go figure. But my uncle, who's Dad's twin, is determined to reopen it with the same menu and another Friel at the helm. In other words—" He pointed to himself, wrinkling his nose, which was… ridiculously adorable. "—me. Apparently, it's a publicity goldmine. Or it will be until the diners get a taste of my cooking."

They'd reached Harrison House, and Casey hesitated by the front steps.

"Good luck then," Dev said.

"Thanks. Thoughts and prayers wouldn't hurt either, if you've got any to spare." Casey glanced at the walkway that led to the summer kitchen with what looked like real trepidation. "Or maybe spells and incantations. Because trust me, I need all the help I can get."