Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“Let us be elegant or die!” ~Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
N at was in awe. The farmhouse kitchen and dining area had transformed from modern country chic to sophisticated English teahouse. Tiered silver trays of scones, tiny sandwiches, and cookies sat atop violet-hued linen tablecloths. Elegant string quartet music hummed in the background. The aroma of white roses and lavender mingled with the scent of fresh scones.
Guests sipped tea from petite purple teacups rimmed in gold and munched dainty snacks. Laughter filled the room from Mathew’s ill-begotten demonstration of how to drink pinkies up, resulting in tea sloshed onto his white shirt.
In the middle of everything were Clayton and Elle. In the constellations of love filling the home, they were the North Star. Love filled every corner of the farmhouse. Couples held hands, kissed, or enveloped one another.
Longing ached in Nat’s chest. She wanted that kind of love. Not just the sweetness but the kind of love where you’re seen for all that you are and aren’t. Truly seen.
I see you. Noah’s words lingered in her ears as she stood with Carmen and Willa. Her gaze drifted across the room to where he stood talking to Mathew. For a moment, their eyes met. What did he see when he looked at her?
“Willa, this high tea is adorable,” Carmen gushed, pouring peppermint tea from a purple porcelain teapot.
Nat shifted her focus back to the little group. “Agreed.” She raised her cup in salute. “You’re a goddess among queens.”
“Thanks.” Willa curtsied. The long strapless blue dress and peacock feather fascinator she wore added to the whimsy of the day.
Viet sauntered up, a teacup and saucer in hand. “This is classy, Wills. When you said you were planning high tea, I expected Long Island Iced Teas and strippers.”
“Well, the tea party is still in diapers.” She winked before stepping into the center of the room. “Everyone, may I have your attention!”
“Oh no, if a stripper jumps out of a scone, I’m out of here,” Viet quipped.
“That’d be one tiny stripper,” Nat joked, lifting a white-chocolate raspberry scone and breaking it in half. “Boo, mine has no stripper.”
“You’ve been working with Dad too long,” Clayton groaned, pinching his nose.
“No strippers, but we do have a special activity. Let us proceed to Clayton’s mancave. Leave your tea. I have proper drinks down there.” Willa regally waved her hand, directing the party to the basement door.
“It’s not a man cave,” Clayton protested.
“Knowing those two, it might be a sex dungeon,” Viet deadpanned.
Blushing like a cinnamon red-hot, Elle narrowed her eyes at her old friend.
“Come on, Fifty Shades , let’s go.” He looped his arm in hers and headed to the door.
“They joke about the basement being their sex dungeon after we spent an hour eating scones from the counter where I caught them having sex on,” Noah whispered in Nat’s ear.
Goosebumps bloomed across her skin. When did he move close to her? Just a few minutes ago, he’d leaned against the kitchen counter on the other side of the room, sipping tea and smirking at Mathew.
“You poor thing,” she teased.
“No coming back from seeing that.” His face creased with a mixture of horror and humor.
Elle had shared it in tipsy detail. Her body bent over the counter, and Noah walking in. Nat couldn’t imagine the embarrassment for all involved. She’d be horrified if she was Elle and someone walked in on her and…
Great! Now she was thinking of Noah bending her over the kitchen island.
“I don’t want to think about it.” A breathiness took control of her voice.
He gestured to the door. “After you.”
They headed down the stairs. He was just a heartbeat behind her. With each step she took, his fresh pine scent enveloped her. A familiar charge zipped along her veins with his closeness. Just friends, she reminded herself.
Reaching the bottom step, she stopped to scan the room. Noah’s firm chest collided with her back. The contact dissolved the goosebumps into lava swirling across every inch of her skin.
“Sorry.” She swallowed thickly.
His hand grazed her bare upper arm in a soothing stroke. “It’s okay.”
With a deep inhale, she stepped into the room. Willa had worked her decorative magic, transforming Clayton’s soft cream, beige, and hunter-green basement into an explosion of the wedding colors of purple and silver. The sectional couch and chairs were draped in deep violet fabric with silver heart-shaped pillows. Twinkling white and purple lights crisscrossed the ceiling. Purple roses in silver vases sat on each end of the bar. Tealights flickered in silver and purple stained-glass candleholders on the end tables.
“It’s so cute in here!” Nat gave a thumbs up to a preening Willa.
“Thanks, queen.” She pointed to the couch. “There are seats there for you two.”
“Uh… Okay.” Nat nodded.
The only seats available for her and Noah were beside each other on the sectional couch between Elle and Clayton, and Viet and his husband, Ryan. Both couples’ laps were occupied by Clayton and Elle’s dogs: Fitz and Lizzie. The addition of the dogs squeezed them tight against each other on the couch.
She took her seat, and so did he.
She yanked at the hem of her dress. The fabric had ridden up to the middle of her thigh, exposing more bare leg than she felt comfortable with, especially sitting so close to Noah. A dip in a bath of ice water was needed. The molten temperature of her body pooled sweat in unladylike spots. Places that clenched with a wanton ache.
“Here you go.” Willa handed them each a champagne flute filled with mimosa.
“Wait, is Nat old enough to drink?” Mathew mocked.
“I’m twenty-eight!” she scolded, taking a swig of her drink while side-eyeing Mathew, who sat diagonal from them on the floor in front of Carmen.
“Hush, or she won’t write you a prescription for that rash you have.” Noah narrowed his eyes and tossed a heart-shaped pillow at Mathew.
“Dude, I told you that in confidence!”
“Thanks,” she whispered to Noah.
He nudged her side. “I got you.”
Oh, goddess! More sweating.
Willa finished dispensing the mimosas. “As you know, this is a Willa twist on a tea party. Elle got her fancy Austen-inspired tea party, but what Willa-inspired version of anything wouldn’t come with a sexy surprise?” She wiggled her curvy hips.
“Willa, what did you do?” Elle arched a brow.
“Honey, I told you we should have got cash out. She totally got a stripper.” Ryan elbowed his bemused husband.
“Even better. May I introduce Ms. Coco ChaNUT!” Willa cheered.
A drag queen with a short black bob and ruby-red lips sashayed into the room. A black cocktail dress hugged her statuesque figure. “ Bonjour , mon petites ,” Ms. ChaNut purred in a thick French accent.
“Oh my god!” Viet and Elle squealed happily.
“By the end of my seminar, your lovers will be saying that,” she sassed.
“Who’s Ms. ChaNut?” Nat’s head tilted, looking between Willa and Elle.
“Ms. ChaNUT is a fabulous drag performer and sex therapist who runs workshops on how to give…” She motioned with her hands.
She didn’t have to finish the statement. Nat knew exactly what she was saying. Mortification engulfed her. What could be worse than sitting in her brother’s mancave learning how to…
“ Mademoiselle , when we last met at that handsome man’s bachelor party…” Ms. ChaNut pointed a red manicured finger at Viet, “…that was for a room full of the penis lovers. Today we are in mixed company. We will tap into your oral fixation for both. Whether you prefer a baguette, a quiche, or both. I don’t judge.”
Ok, that’s worse. Nat’s eyes widened in horror. This is not happening.
“Aw, Nat, your face is beet-red,” Mathew taunted.
“Hey, Mathew, why don’t you pay attention? You may learn something,” Noah said. Lines of frustration creased his face.
“Well, I could probably teach the quiche section.”
“Here,” Carmen said, handing her husband a notebook and pen. “Take notes.”
Mathew blanched as laughter filled the room.
Noah bent close to her ear and murmured, “Ignore Mathew. I think we’re all equally uncomfortable.”
“Willa’s not.” Her eyes drifted to Willa, an amused smile hidden behind her Champagne flute.
“Confidence and insecurity sometimes look the same.”
She tilted her head to him. “What does that mean?”
“Some people overcompensate for insecurities with false bravado, while some deliberately hide their confidence to appease the insecurities of others.”
Which am I? Which are you? She blinked, breaking their woven gazes.
“Pay attention, Wilson, you may learn something,” Mathew chastised with a twinge of mockery.
“Hey, if he’s distracting Nat from paying attention, that’s okay with me. In fact, Nat, do you want to take Fitz and Lizzie for a walk?” Clayton’s tone was half-joking, but his tense expression displayed his overprotective big brother side.
“Nope,” she said, lips pursed.
This was uncomfortable for both of them but for different reasons. Her discomfort was at the fact that she was learning sexy time activities at a pre-wedding activity for her brother in his house. Clayton’s blush and stuttered, “ex…ex…excuse me?” when she’d first brought up sex in his presence flashed in her mind. Despite her twenty-eight years, her brother still treated her like a little girl. He’d have a coronary if he knew about the vibrator in the nightstand in the Little Red Barn.
“Carmen, can I borrow a piece of paper and pen?” Smirking, her audacious gaze remained fixed on her brother.
Clayton grunted.
Elle patted his cheek. “She’s an adult.”
“But she’s still my little sister.” The protest was dipped in regret. As if he’d failed somehow.
Nat wanted to quell his feelings. So much of his life was spent as a big brother and her a little sister. It had to be hard to realize she wasn’t that pigtailed little girl anymore. Part of her wanted to put the notebook down, make a joke, and take the dogs for a walk, allowing his discomfort to dissolve.
Not discomfort, but his insecurity. She gnawed on her lip, thinking of Noah’s take on Willa’s over-the-top confidence versus the limitations some put on themselves to make others feel better. Was Nat the latter and not the former?
This was far too much introspection in the middle of a sex workshop. Pushing those thoughts away, she settled the small notebook Carmen gave her on her lap.
She scribbled notes in her sloppy doctor’s handwriting. It was like being in medical school again. Only instead of the technical terms, Ms. ChaNUT used a fun mix of half-French/half-English and totally dirty versions to describe human anatomy and sexual positions. She’d never look at hollandaise sauce in the same way.
Shifting on the couch beside her, Noah cleared his throat.
Face tipped toward Noah, her eyes snagged on his gaze, which was locked on her paper. Fat cursive outlined Ms. ChaNUT’s suggested tongue techniques. The cool calm blue of his eyes darkened like a stormy sea.
Nat’s breath hitched. Had his eyes flicked between the words scrawled on her paper to her lips? Did he imagine the slickness of her tongue trailing down the contours of his body? The heat of her mouth moving lower and lower until…
Like the turn of a crank, tension built between her legs. Breath ragged, she looked back to her paper.
“Now, when you want to pleasure a lady…” Ms. ChaNUT went on.
Don’t look at Noah. Don’t look at Noah.
She looked at him.
It had to be a trick of her crush-logged and sex-deprived brain. Had she imagined the smolder in his eyes? His uneven breaths? The lick of his lips like a wolf ready to devour its first real meal in days? The grip of his hands around his knees as if battling for control? None of that was real. It couldn’t have been.
I’m just Clayton’s sister to him.
As Ms. ChaNUT described dual stimulation of a woman during oral sex, Nat pulled harder at the hem of her skirt. With each detail, Nat could imagine being alone in this room, on this couch with just Noah. His head between her legs, mouth drinking her up, and fingers pushing inside her. A hot flush invaded every inch of her.
“Are you okay?” Noah whispered.
Stupid body! Ice baths all week! Nat pressed her legs tight, trying to fight that throbbing ache. This was ridiculous. Her own form of torture.
“Warm…in…here,” she said, her words came out like a tripping response. It was the same excuse she’d given last night. She hoped he bought it.
“I feel it too.” He shifted. “The heat…it’s sweltering in here,” he sputtered, standing up. “I’m going to turn the air conditioning down a bit. It’s a little warm in here.”
After the sexually titillating workshop ended, the guests lingered, sipping mimosas and mingling. Nat slipped upstairs to take Fitz and Lizzie outside. Frankly, she needed a break. Sitting a breath away from Noah for an hour-long seminar about oral sex had taken a toll on her body. Every muscle was coiled tight. and her core pulsed with an unrequited ache. The fresh Noah-free air soothed the tension rioting within her.
After the quick walk, the dogs padded behind her toward the kitchen cabinet where their treats were kept. Sound filtered up from the basement. In the cacophony of voices, she could make out Noah or, perhaps, it was just the echo of him murmuring in her ear.
Today, he saw her. He supported her. He set her on fire. The way Noah’s gaze flitted between her notes and her body. The pink that kissed his cheeks after he looked away from her. How his hand, which sat inches from her leg, had grazed her bare skin. Likely accidental, but she could always dream the touch had been intentional.
“Only you would plan something like this.” Noah chuckled, emerging from the basement. He glanced over his shoulder as he spoke.
“You loved every minute of it,” Willa teased, following him. “I bet you learned a few things. Care to try them out?”
Noah’s laugh echoed mockingly as they strode into the living room.
It was like a bucket of cold water tossed into the warm bubble bath she’d been mentally luxuriating in since he’d shown up at the Little Red Barn earlier. Nat’s heart sank with each muffled laugh, giggle, and word wafting from the living room with the unwanted stench of truth.
No more. Nat retrieved her rainbow patchwork purse from where she’d left it on one of the kitchen island barstools and pulled out her phone. It was time to give up childish things, including crushes.
Especially crushes. She pulled up Duncan’s message and responded.
Me: Absolutely .