As much as she would have liked to ogle him for the rest of the afternoon, she needed to think. She needed to figure out what came next for her and Cain. She nodded, gesturing to the stairs. “I’ll, uh . . . I’ll be upstairs. Call if you need me, huh?”
Cain lay down on his back, sliding his head under her sink. “Will do.”
Ginger turned and headed up the stairs, her hand flattened over her pounding heart.
Chapter 11
Cain
“Promised to take a look at the kitchen sink. At the cottage,” said Klaus, who was sitting on a bench outside the barn on Thursday afternoon. “But I got to wait for Doc Keller to come. Ravenal’s lungs is rumbling. So I thought you go up and take a look for me.”
After running into Ginger in her car on Monday night, Cain had taken a long walk, thinking about nothing but her. In all the years he’d known her, he’d never experienced the sort of cold shoulder she’d given him as she drove up the driveway. Man, he must have hurt her. It was the one thing he’d never, ever wanted, and the reality of it—written all over her face—made him feel like total shit. And while he’d promised himself to stay away from her for Josiah’s sake, he needed to make amends. He needed to find a way to let her know that he was sorry. And banking on the fact that he was living in the barn and she was living in the cottage, he assumed they’d eventually bump into each other. Just . . .
“Cain? The sink?”
. . . not yet.
“Uh, why don’t I wait for the vet?” said Cain, sitting down on the bench beside his father.
Yes, he needed to apologize to her, and yes, this would be a good opportunity, but the thought of her ice-cold eyes made him pause. Waiting a few more days wouldn’t hurt anything, would it?
“I’ll wait for Doc Keller. You go check on Ginger’s sink.”
His father gave him a sidelong look. “You get the sink. I get the vet.”
“Aw, plumbin’ ain’t my—”
“Cain,” said Klaus, his light blue eyes suddenly all-knowing and all-seeing. “She live here. You can’t avoid her für immer.”
Für immer. Forever.
Cain swiped his thumb across his bottom lip. “What do you mean? I ain’t avoidin’ her. If anything—”
“You were friends. Now? You’re not. But it’s gut to be friends.”
“Friends.”
Klaus nodded. “Don’t ficke sie like the others.”
“Pop!”
“A father know his son. I know you’re popular with the Damen.”
“She’s different,” said Cain.
“Ja. She’s special,” said Klaus. “So go unclog the princess’s sink and make everything gut. Take my advice. I’m old. I wish I had made things right when I had the chance.”
As Cain walked up the driveway with his father’s toolbox, he reflected that his father’s words were the closest he’d probably ever come to admitting that McHuid’s and his love of horses had gotten in the way of his marriage, but there was a peace to hearing his father confess it. And it allowed Cain to quietly forgive his father too.
He wasn’t sure if it was because of a change in his attitude or the fact that Woodman wasn’t around to steal his father’s attention, but Cain found himself enjoying his father’s company. Yes, Klaus talked about horses an absurd amount, but it was passionate, good-natured talk, and because Cain had practically grown up at McHuid’s, he found he was able to contribute a great deal to the conversation. It made for pleasant evenings of slow-cooked chicken paprikash and boiled sp?tzle with cheese, full of unexpected camaraderie, and Cain felt grateful for the opportunity to get to know his father again, to see him through a new lens.
Since returning home, Cain hadn’t been down to the Glenn River Distillery a hell of a lot either, though a couple of his old friends had stopped by to invite him to join them for a night of drinking. The contrast in their lives was startling. Cain had sailed the world, learned how to protect an aircraft carrier from all manner of fire, taken control of his life, and developed pride in his service, while most of them had lingered around Apple Valley for the past three years, mooching off their parents, getting fucked-up at the distillery, and holding down shit jobs. He just didn’t feel like he had much in common with them anymore, and besides, he was anxious to show his father, and everyone else in Apple Valley, that Cain Wolfram could be more than troublemaking white trash.
A few of the girls he’d “dated” had stopped by, too, and Cain had to admit, they were still looking pretty fine. Point in fact, after he drove Woodman to the fire department tomorrow, he had a date with Mary-Louise Walker to get reacquainted at her place. And by reacquainted, he intended to fuck her five ways from Sunday and watch those epic tits rock and roll all over her apartment until dawn. His mouth watered just thinking about it.
“What are you doin’ here?” demanded a saucy voice, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up to find Ginger, hands on her hips, standing on old Mrs. McHuid’s little front porch.
“Why are you livin’ here?” asked Cain, gesturing to the manor house with his chin before looking back at her. “Castle not to your likin’, princess?”
She rolled her eyes, flicking a glance to his toolbox. “Klaus sent you to fix my sink?”