Chapter 12
A Little Jealousy Might Do Him Good
TWO DAYS LATER
Shep has been an attentive caregiver for the past couple of days. He’s made sure I take painkillers at regular intervals, kept my leg elevated, and cooked all of our meals. Luckily, my ankle has healed quickly, and as of this morning I was able to walk on it without hurting.
The downside of being holed up for two extra days is that Shep’s kept his word about not kissing me—let alone doing anything else. It wouldn’t be so challenging if we weren’t together practically all day and night. He’s let me tag along to visit the animals and hang out in his woodshop.
The only time we’ve been apart was this afternoon when he was putting the last touches on the rocking chair while I responded to a flood of emails.
I decided to tackle as many as I could so Gemma wouldn’t be overwhelmed when she returns from vacation after the holidays.
Not to my surprise there were multiple emails from CoreFuel Labs, the health and wellness advertiser that’s been giving us grief about taking time off from posting new podcast episodes.
Between the bad weather and my ankle, I haven’t had a chance to edit the prerecorded episodes I planned to post through the end of the year.
I explained the situation and let them know my next video will go up a couple of days after Christmas.
It was a difficult decision to make considering I’m a chronic people pleaser and don’t like letting anyone down, especially where business is concerned.
But in this instance, I had to prioritize myself, and that meant making the most of my time with Shep.
The mountain road was finally plowed this morning, and with the weather cleared up, he surprised me by taking me into town.
“What do you think of Pine Haven?” Shep asks from the driver’s seat.
It’s dark as we drive, Main Street glowing under strings of twinkling white lights draped from the lampposts.
Every shop window is dressed for the season with holiday murals, and each door has a wreath with red velvet bows.
In the middle of the town square, a towering pine tree is decorated with rope garland, hand-painted wooden horseshoes, cowboy boots, and deer, and topped with a matching star.
It’s nearly the size of the one in Rockefeller Center—an impressive feat for a small town in Arizona.
I press my nose against the glass to get a better look. “It’s so pretty. The Western theme for the tree is so fitting, and those ornaments are stunning.”
“The city council picked the theme, but I made them,” Shep tells me.
I spin to face him, my mouth falling open in surprise. It’s no secret he’s a master woodworker, but I didn’t anticipate him investing his talent into a project for a holiday he’s not fond of.
“You made all those?” I motion to the tree now in the rearview mirror. “There has to be at least fifty.”
His eyes remain fixed on the road ahead. “Actually, there’s a hundred and twenty. The mayor wanted forty of each for some reason.”
“Wow.” I let out a low whistle. “You must keep busy with your woodworking business.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I mostly make things for folks in town, free of charge.”
Shep owns the local honky-tonk, but I assume the margins are low in such a small town. I’m sure he could make more selling his furniture, so why skip out on a big payday?
“My parents were close with the mayor and the city council, so it’s a good way to give back to the community in their honor,” he explains, running his fingers along his mustache.
“For me, woodworking isn’t about the money—it’s about doing work I love, and it’s even better when it’s for someone who appreciates it. ”
I’m floored by his generosity. He keeps to himself on the mountain, hiding behind an indifferent front, yet underneath, he’s a man who serves others unconditionally.
I think back over the past few days. Not once has he hinted that I owe him for letting me stay.
If anything, he’s gone out of his way to look after me because he genuinely cares.
Even at his grumpiest, he’s never been outright cruel or criticized me for the mistakes that led me to his cabin.
At the edge of town, we pull into a full parking lot next to a large barn.
Cedar hitching posts line the porch, and neon cactus and boots hang above a metal sign that says High Noon.
There’s even a Christmas tree at the entrance strung with colorful lights, silver tinsel, and the same wooden ornaments as the tree in town, but on a smaller scale.
“You make those too?” I tease.
“I was strong-armed into that project,” Shep mutters. “Casey’s wife was set on having a tree out front even though I reminded her that people come for the drinks and live music, not holiday displays.”
“Hate to break it to you, but she’s right, cowboy.” I lean over, giving his arm a nudge. “It’s nice to see it, especially for those far from home and yearning for Christmas cheer.”
I was hoping we’d get to town before the shops closed so I could find a few decorations for the cabin, but Shep was busy in his workshop finishing Casey’s rocking chair.
We also had to stop by the barn and feed the animals before going down the mountain. There’s no chance the convertible would have made it. Even with the roads cleared, they’re still slick with patches of ice along the switchbacks. It’s a miracle I made it up during the storm as it is.
On the ride into town, I had time to reflect.
I see now that my fixation on the tangible trappings of Christmas has made me forget the real reason I feel so much loss—being without my family.
Yet, here with Shep, I’ve found a peace I wouldn’t have if I were alone, and I’ve come to accept that even without a Christmas tree or decorations, there’s still joy to be found in the season.
The low rumble of the engine stops when Shep pulls into a parking spot at the back of the lot.
“Stay put,” he orders as he climbs out.
He circles the front of the truck and opens my door, offering his hand to help me down.
“Aww, you’re my knight in rugged denim,” I say with a playful smile.
“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you. You’re begging to catch a cold in that outfit.” He throws his arm around my shoulder, shielding me from the wind.
If it were up to Shep, I’d be wearing his sweats and flannel sweater.
Instead, I chose a red knee-length dress with puffed sleeves that I packed for my trip.
It’s more fitting for a warm summer afternoon than a frigid winter night, but I refuse to meet his friends like I just rolled out of bed—even with the chilly air nipping at my ankles.
It’s a good thing we’ll be indoors for the rest of the evening.
Shep draws me closer as he ushers us toward the entrance.
I melt into his touch, resting my head against his chest. My nipples tighten under my dress at the memory of waking up pressed against him two nights ago while I touched myself.
I’d been lost in a dream about our kiss, except it didn’t end there.
He’d turned me to face the TV, my back to his front, telling me not to make a sound as he slipped his hand inside my pants, fucking me with his fingers while he peppered my neck with kisses.
Just as I was on the verge of coming, I woke up, hit with the reality that it was nothing more than a dream, and the ache between my legs was all too real.
An ache blooms in my core, and I wish I would have had a chance to use one of my toys before we left the cabin. Worse, I can’t shake the idea of Shep using one with me—a vibrator in my pussy as he fucks me in the ass.
I’m relieved when we reach the building. The doors swing open, and the warmth washes over me, banishing the cold and my dirty thoughts.
We enter a foyer where we’re surrounded by people and the low hum of conversation.
A hostess stands behind a small podium, checking tickets.
Dozens of posters promoting upcoming bands cover the wall behind her.
I recognize several as famous country groups, and almost every poster is marked “Sold Out” with red stickers.
It has me doubting my earlier assumptions about Shep’s success.
He places his hand on my lower back, guiding me along the edge of the entrance. The hostess starts to scold him for cutting in line but freezes when she recognizes Shep.
“S-sorry, boss. Go right in,” she stammers.
Even his employee is intimidated by his presence. It’s probably a good thing he has someone else managing his business because his interpersonal skills could use some work.
Shep lets out a disgruntled huff before ushering me through a set of oak doors leading into the main area.
It’s just past seven, but the place is swarming with people.
There’s a big dance hall with a raised stage in front where a band plays country music as couples spin across the polished floor.
Tables line the back half of the converted barn, packed with patrons watching the show from a distance.
Servers thread through the crowd with trays of food and drinks, while the bar along the left-hand side is lined with people who couldn’t get a seat.
The room is a sea of cowboy hats, boots, and full country attire. I frown, glancing down at my dress and sneakers, instantly feeling out of place. Shep vetoed my wedges despite my ankle being better, and the only other option I had was the sneakers I packed.
Shep leans in to whisper, “You okay?”
Goose bumps ripple across the nape of my neck as the tickle of his mustache brushes against the shell of my ear.
“I’m the only one here not wearing boots or a hat,” I note.