Burned by a Kiss (12 page)

“Miss Sugar,” Santana said, “could we have some water?”

“With some lemon,” Sierra said. “I’m craving a lemon.”

“You sick, honey?” Miss Sugar asked.

“I wasn’t ten minutes ago,” Sierra said faintly.

“I’ll get that water.” Miss Sugar beetled off quickly.

Sierra’s hands were shaking. Santana took one in his, stunned that it was ice-cold. “Sierra, you’re really ill.”

“Did you eat something while we were at the estate sale? I saw some plates of cookies sitting out,” Emma asked.

“I didn’t.”

“Are you hurting anywhere?” Emma said, and Santana was glad for her levelheaded approach. He was far too worried about his little sister to be any good with this. But he couldn’t remember Sierra ever being sick—and it troubled him. She’d had the odd cold over the years, and once they’d all gotten the chickenpox together, creating quite a bit of mayhem in the house for their mom because they’d been fairly demanding patients.

But not Sierra. She’d laid quietly in the room with her brothers, where they’d set up camp in the den so Mom could oversee them all at once. Sierra alone had kept a cheerful countenance, when she wasn’t asleep.

She’d gotten well first, too.

“I’m not in any pain. Not even a headache,” Sierra said. “I’m never sick. But I don’t feel good at all.”

“Okay. Let’s get some water in her, maybe a to-go cup, too, and try to outrun the storm,” Nick suggested. “She’d feel better in her own bed.”

“I want a slice of that pie,” Sierra said. “And I want to hear at least one of Miss Sugar’s ghost stories.”

“You don’t even believe in ghosts,” Nick said. “Why would you care to hang around to listen to baloney?”

“I don’t know,” Sierra said weakly. “Is anybody else hearing chimes?”

Santana pressed his sister back in the chair and stood as Miss Sugar came back to the table with her tray, rapidly putting four waters, a bowl of sliced lemons, and a platter of tiny wafer cookies on the table.

“Thank you,” Sierra said, her voice dull. “Can I have a slice of that pie and a cup of hot tea?”

“Sierra,” Santana cautioned, and Nick added, “In to-go containers, if possible.”

Miss Sugar touched Sierra’s forehead. “My, you’re burning up, young lady.”

“I feel like crap,” Sierra said.

“Did this just come on?” Miss Sugar asked.

“Yes.” Sierra sipped her water after Nick squeezed a generous lemon slice in it.

“I wonder if you’d be interested in trying a cure,” Miss Sugar said.

“A cure?” Santana asked, raising a brow.

“A remedy, to be more precise.”

“Sure,” Sierra said.

“What kind of remedy?” Emma asked quickly.

“A natural remedy, don’t worry.” Miss Sugar went off, and Santana glanced at Emma.

“It can’t hurt, I suppose,” Emma said.

“Whatever it takes to hear her ghost story,” Sierra said.

“Since when are you so interested in local legends?” Santana asked.

“I don’t know.” Sierra took a lemon slice and ate it, rind and all. She took another lemon slice and downed that as well.

“Sierra,” Santana said, “since when do you gobble lemons?”

“I’m craving citrus. I can’t explain it.”

Miss Sugar returned, setting down a piece of pie for Sierra and the hot tea. She also gave her a water bottle. “Drink that first. Divide the bottle in four parts, and drink a fourth every fifteen minutes.”

“That pie is beautiful,” Sierra said. “I feel better already.”

Miss Sugar smiled. “You’ll feel fine soon. What can I get the rest of you folks?”

“I’ll have a BLT,” Emma said. “I hear yours are delicious.”

“Good.” She looked at Santana. “And you, sir?”

“Shouldn’t we be hitting the road?” Santana asked, glancing at Nick.

“Maybe if Sierra gets some food in her, she’ll feel better,” Nick said. “We can take thirty minutes to eat and get out before the snow starts falling.” He also ordered a BLT, and Santana sighed. Sierra was drinking her water, just as prescribed, and ogling her pie, so he also ordered one of the infamous BLTs. Although how amazing could a BLT be? Bacon, lettuce, tomato, big deal.

“Me, too, please,” Sierra said, and Miss Sugar went off, delighted to have four orders for her much-lauded BLTs.

Sierra dumped a ton of sugar in her hot tea, squeezed a large slice of lemon in it, devoured the slice when she’d squeezed all the juice from it, and forked a piece of the pie. “I’m sorry, folks. I hate to eat in front of you, but I’m trying this. It’s calling my name.”

“I’m glad to see you have an appetite.” Emma took a wafer from the cookie tray. “We can probably rule out appendicitis.”

“Maybe it was something in that house.” Nick drank his water.

“This is so good it’s sinful.” Sierra sighed happily. “I’m taking home a whole pie if she’s got one!”

Miss Sugar returned with their BLTs, setting a plate down in front of each of them. Santana had never seen such huge sandwiches. Each BLT was a masterpiece in its own right, towering with bacon and tomato layers, generous cups of mayo on the side. The bread was a crustless, soft egg-style, looking cut from a fresh loaf.

“You’re sure you want to eat more, Sierra?” Emma asked, watching Sierra tear into the BLT with gusto.

“I’m feeling better,” Sierra said. She picked up the bottle of water with the so-called “remedy” in it. “This stuff must be working.”

“Clearly a placebo effect,” Santana muttered.

“Whatever. It’s working,” Sierra said cheerfully. “And this BLT lives up to its reputation!”

Emma smiled at Santana. It was a look meant to calm him, reassure him that his little sister would be fine.

She would be. He knew that. They all would be.

“Snow’s starting to fall,” Miss Sugar said, happily reappearing at their table. “How’s the food, folks?”

“Delightful,” Nick said. “You might bring me the bill. We need to hit the road.”

“You won’t be going anywhere today,” Miss Sugar said, her face suddenly woeful.

“Oh?” Nick raised an imperious brow, his voice suddenly quite cold. The change in Friendly Nick to what was probably Boardroom Nick even startled Sierra, who glanced at him, her eyes huge.

“No, I’m afraid not.” Miss Sugar couldn’t have been more sympathetic. “Not if that’s your black car outside.”

Of course it was Nick’s black car. They’d been the only people to park in the six spaces in front of Miss Sugar’s tearoom.

“Is there a problem?” Nick demanded, his tone icy.

“Looks like a tire thief came by,” Miss Sugar said, maybe not quite as sympathetic as she should be, Santana thought. “We’ve had a gang working our small town. They come by with a truck to toss the tires into and make short work of it. Can have your tires off in less than twelve seconds, just like at NASCAR.”

Nick got up, his body stiff, visibly annoyed. Santana stared at him, surprised by the change in the affable Nick. They walked with him to the window to see the damage. Nick let out a word Santana had never heard him use before as he saw his car sitting on cinder blocks, the wheels and tires vanished.

“Why haven’t you called the sheriff?” Nick demanded.

“I did,” Miss Sugar said, offended. “Of course I did immediately, before I even knew if that was your car! We try to stay one step ahead of that gang!”

“Well, you’re not staying one step ahead,” Nick said curtly. “I’m sure you have someone in town who conveniently tends to this type of occurrence?”

“I beg your pardon,” Miss Sugar said. “If you are suggesting, sir, that we thieve tires in this town to make a bit of cash from unsuspecting travelers, I assure you that’s the last thing anyone would want here. We want our visitors to return. Any good business person knows that. And for your information, since the theft occurred on my property, lunch is on me.”

She sailed off, highly displeased.

“Damn,” Nick said. “I didn’t handle that well.”

“No, you didn’t.” Santana stared out at the Range Ranger, privately sympathizing with Nick. What Nick didn’t realize was that getting his car fixed in a town this small wasn’t going to be easy.

“I’m going to see if they took my dress!” Sierra turned to fly out the door, but Emma stopped her.

“You stay inside. Go sit back down. I’ll check.” She looked at Santana. “Make her go back to the table.”

Nick turned instantly, taking Sierra’s arm and guiding her back to her chair. Santana followed, surprised when his sister wound her arm through Nick’s.

That was a very bad sign. If Sierra was feeling better, she’d be more likely to kick Nick than lean on him. He followed Emma out the door, unwilling to let her out of his sight while there were hoodlums around.

“Maybe we should phone the captain and ask him to send someone to pick us up. A taxi would be expensive. I think Sierra needs to get home,” Emma said when he reached her.

He peered through the windows of the dark vehicle. “She’ll be happy to know no one wants the stupid dress except her.”

Emma shook her head. “Sierra’s proud of that stupid dress, as you call it, and Nick seems happy to be in on her dream, right?”

Santana was too worried about his sister to care about irrational pipe dreams. “Let’s get you back inside where it’s warm in case whatever made Sierra ill is contagious.”

“Kiss me first,” Emma said, to his surprise. He complied instantly, tugging her to him by her coat lapels, sinking his mouth against hers. She moaned, moving closer, and suddenly, the rapid snowfall and below-freezing chill no longer bothered Santana.

“You have me absolutely mesmerized, Dr. Glass.”

“With one kiss?”

“It’s more than that.” He kissed her again, holding her, loving the feel of her in his arms. Her mouth was soft and sweet under his, allowing him entrance.

“Quit worrying.” She stood on her tiptoes, drawing his head down for one last lingering kiss. “I’m never sick.”

“Just like my sister,” he said, but she laughed at him and pulled him inside to the table where Nick and Sierra were engaged in a pie-sharing moment.

Santana tried not to notice that his sister seemed to be acting completely unlike herself as she and Nick stabbed at one slice of pie, downing it without conversation.

“This is good,” Nick said, sounding surprised. “Ever had French silk pie? Miss Sugar brought us a piece on the house. Because of the tires and all the inconvenience,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

“It was a make-up gift,” Sierra explained. “Since Nick snapped her head off. Additionally, she’s offered us the use of two rooms in her bed and breakfast behind the tearoom.”

“We’re not staying,” Santana said, “Nick can stay here and tend to his problem. You’re going home to bed. We’ve got Joe to think about, and Emma’s got a pet collection at her place.”

“Don’t fuss about me, brother,” Sierra said. “Don’t make any special plans because of me. I’m feeling better, thanks to either whatever she puts in this remedy bottle of hers, or what she puts in her pie. Best pie ever!”

He glanced at the window, seeing the snow falling faster, almost on cue.

“We could probably rent a truck from someone in this town,” Santana said thoughtfully, “or a vehicle of some kind. Something to get us home.”

“You should,” Nick agreed. “Don’t stay here because of me. Definitely get Sierra home to bed. Excuse me, I’m going to take some photos before the snow covers my car, and call my insurance company.”

Nick retreated with his cell phone. “What has gotten into you?” Santana asked Sierra.

“Nothing.” She looked at Emma. “You might call Jenny and ask her if she can go stay at your place to pet sit. Maybe she could even swing by and get Joe, if you think she could manage all of them.” His sister’s eyes had dark circles under them from the fever, but she certainly seemed to be feeling better. Santana had never seen pie cure a fever, and he didn’t believe in magic potions, or remedies—whatever “Miss Sugar” had put in the bottle—but something seemed to have worked.

“We can give her the code to the house and tell her where we have an open window, if she doesn’t mind getting Joe,” Sierra said to Santana.

“Do you really think we’ll have to stay the night?” Emma asked as they sat back down.

“Unfortunately, the thieves stripped the whole thing. Basically, they left only the axles.”

“Surely this town has a garage of some sort,” Emma said, and Santana shrugged.

“Let’s hope.”

“We might as well get cozy so you can rest,” Miss Sugar said, returning to the table after about half an hour had passed. “I don’t see any way you’re leaving town, to be honest.”

Emma was thrilled the woman had convenient accommodations. She’d called Jenny, and Jenny had been delighted to run by and get Joe, then bunk over at Emma’s with the pets, especially since Emma had just stocked the fridge. Jenny would have done the favor anyway, but the lure of food had definitely gotten a yelp of excitement out of her friend.

“Thank you for letting us stay with you.” Emma followed Sierra, who Miss Sugar had definitely taken a shine to. The men had stayed back to discuss the car angle. Nick was clearly out of sorts, though resigned, to the fact that his vehicle wouldn’t have driving ability for a couple of days. Santana was worried about his sister, though he tried to act relaxed. He kept glancing at the big plate glass windows, and Emma knew he was worried about the snowstorm. It really was coming down hard now, and Miss Sugar had cheerfully informed them that there was ice reported under the snow.

Jesus, Nick had muttered under his breath, and Emma had smiled in sympathy. He was so out of his element that it would be funny if Sierra weren’t ill.

Although Sierra seemed to be making a rapid recovery. She had color back in her face, and the dark circles under her eyes had lost the bruised look.

“Here we go!” Miss Sugar guided them to a couple of stuffed chairs in front of a nice gas-lit fireplace. “You sit there, angel.” She made sure Sierra was comfortable in front of the fire, and sat down across from them on a small sofa. “Well, sit,” she told Emma. “We might as well wait for your men to decide what they’re going to do.”

They knew what they had to do. They were just fighting it. It wasn’t in Nick’s or Santana’s natures to accept roadblocks. Nick was a man used to being able to buy what he needed in life, and Santana used his muscles and determination to solve his issues.