Kitchen Currents
445 Words
Ellen hauled grocery bags into the kitchen. Granite counters gleamed under noon light. Waves crashed audibly through open windows. Luke followed her from the yard. His rake leaned outside. He grabbed bags from her arms without asking. His cool fingers brushed hers. Sparks tingled up her arm. The sensation echoed the dream's alcove presses. She flushed hot. Not now.
"Thanks," she said. She unpacked eggs and bread. "The town run sparked more lore. Everyone knows Blackthorn dirt."
He set bourbon on the shelf. His gray eyes sharpened. "Townies love tales. What is the fresh twist?"
She hesitated. Then she plunged in. "Doris at the grocer and Mabel at the diner gave consensus. Lorian courted Amelia Thorne. He planned marriage. Sister Eliza obsessed over him. Jealous stares marked her. Love letters auctioned in the '60s by descendants. After the vanish came the Amelia pregnant rumor. They hushed the scandal."
Luke froze mid-unpack. His jaw clenched. His gray eyes stormed dark. An apple slipped from his grip. It rolled across the counter. "Pregnant? That is twisted gossip. Lorian loved Amelia true. Eliza's crush was one-sided. Letters prove nothing but delusion. There was no child." His voice cracked raw. The fury felt personal. He caught himself. He exhaled sharp. "Sorry. It hits close."
Ellen nodded. Her heart raced. Too invested. "I dug Thorne and Voss families online too. Thorne descendants appear in NYC society pages. Voss builders remain local still."
He stepped closer. He towered to help with a heavy bag. His cool palm grazed her lower back. Heat bloomed intimate there. The dream flashed in her mind. It showed thumbs circling peaks and thigh tease. She gasped softly. Arousal stirred low in her body. His touch lingered electric.
A whirr sounded from the kitchen clock. Its hands jerked. The year 1905 etched briefly in frost. Then it snapped back to 2026. Luke stiffened. He pulled his hand away slowly. "This is a glitchy old house." His voice turned husky. His eyes locked on hers. They held stormy want amid wariness.
"Why do you care so much about Lorian?" he asked. "It feels like more than a book to you."
Ellen paused. Emotion welled up. She touched her tingling back. Her skin burned cool. Dream-real. "It is sad. This guy just vanished. There was no body and no closure. No one really cares after all these years. I am here living in his house. It makes it real."
He nodded tightly. The air thickened. "Truth hides in the quiet ones." He turned to the sink. He washed his hands. The water stayed untouched. "Porch swing next?" Escape laced his voice.
Waves roared in agreement. The manor hummed watchful.
- Writer
