Once Upon a Rose(28)

There was a thump, a curse, another curse, and then a huge form lunged upright in the kitchen, giant wrench raised high to—

She screamed bloody murder.

“What?” a deep voice boomed over her. “What? What? Merde, what’s wrong?” He lunged for her.

She swung the bag with all her might, and ten pounds of chocolate collided with a broad shoulder and unfortunately only glanced against the head. The bag split, and Matt staggered against the counter under the rain of chocolate bars, dropping the wrench.

It hit the floor and maybe something else because he cursed again, jerking one foot up. “Bordel de merde.”

“What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?” she yelled, grabbing for the next grocery sack. Cheeses. She should have chosen stinkier ones.

“I—the kitchen sink was leaking!” Matt yelled, rubbing his head. “Aïe! Damn it.”

“How did you know that?”

“It’s my valley!” he roared so loudly she fell back against the counter.

She took a deep breath and stared at him—and then abruptly dropped the cheese and pressed her hands to her face. “Oh, holy crap, you scared me to death.”

“I told you I was going to fix it! And I fixed your putain de fusible!” His arms folded across his chest.

Yes, a light was on in the kitchen. The refrigerator was humming again. Little things she should have noticed before she even came into the kitchen, except she was so tired. And he had mentioned the kitchen sink that morning, hadn’t he? She’d been too busy thinking about his shoulders and what they would do if she touched them to pay much attention.

She took another deep breath, her skin still jittery from the shock of it. “Shit,” she said, heartfelt.

Matt glowered, his arms tightening. “Where the hell have you been anyway? The store is only twenty minutes away!”

“I got lost!” she snapped, the whole day of frustration piling up on her.

“You did not get lost with my directions!” he said, affronted.

“I decided to risk going farther afield.” She glared back at him. Tears stung ridiculously, trying to turn the glare into something else. She’d had a hard day. She’d actually been having a hard few months, full of this endless cycle of pressures and expectations she couldn’t meet, like twisting forever on those damn cliff roads and never getting anywhere she could rest.

And her whole body wanted to collapse now in relief, nestling itself against a big, strong man in gratitude for him saving her from an axe murderer. A wrench murderer. Whatever. Saving her, in this case, just by not being the axe murderer in question, nor a dead body, nor all the things that had flashed through her mind as she’d reacted instinctively.

“You went somewhere else? Why the hell did you do something like that without checking with me?” Matt demanded.

She gaped at him. “Excuse me,” she said dangerously. “I’ve traveled by myself all over Europe and the United States, and you, some random stranger with a temper problem, want me to check with you before I go anywhere?”

“That’s not what I meant!” He looked ready to pound his head against something. “Check with me for directions! And how the hell did you manage to travel all over Europe if you can’t even get from here to Grasse? What happened on your last trip, you got lost trying to get from London to Paris and ended up wandering through Istanbul and Prague before you could figure out where you were?”

“Okay, you know what…” She folded her arms and glared at him. “You can go now.” She’d used train passes back then, for God’s sake. Only on this trip had she had the brilliant idea to buy the little blue van off a friend in Berlin and use it to get around. Much easier to carry her instruments that way, right? Plus, it reminded her of the old days, when she’d driven that old beat-up van her mother had helped her buy all over the U.S., chasing festival opportunities in the summers between school terms. Music had just flowed out of her, back in those days. That had been who she was.

“Not if you want to be able to use your kitchen sink, I can’t.” He dropped back down to the floor and stretched out, scowling at her one last time before his head disappeared into the cabinet. From under the sink came a muttering stream of curses, like a bear grumbling in his cave.

She stared down at him. Now that she knew it was alive and didn’t belong to an axe murderer, that was one really nice body to have stretched out there on those worn tiles. Big, half-filling the kitchen. A very reassuring strength to have around, to fight the lingering ghosts of axe murderers. He couldn’t even see her ogling it either. As long as he kept working on that sink, she could ogle it a long time.