Chapter Eleven #2
Her mind returned to the sparks in Crew’s eyes when he told her to lock the doors. And the way his muscled body moved with a mix of strength and athletic grace.
Warmth bloomed in her chest. Her feelings for him were growing. She acknowledged that much. But today when she looked up to see him duck under the canopy and join her potting session…her heart hadn’t jerked with just excitement.
It swelled with so much more.
She was happy.
Safe.
The realization felt strange and fragile, like a bird she didn’t want to startle by naming it too loudly.
Her phone buzzed in her hand, jolting her from her thoughts. She skimmed the text from an unfamiliar number.
Hi. I got your number from Cathy. She told me you do landscaping. I wondered if you’d be willing to look at my job and give me an estimate.
A smile spread over her face. Thanks to Cathy, word was really getting out. Sure, her side gig would go dormant as soon as autumn faded to winter, but for now she was…what was that old saying?
I’ll make hay while the sun shines.
She typed a response, asking for the person’s name and address and to provide times they’d be available for her to see the property, and give more details about the job.
No reply followed.
She stared at the screen for a long beat.
They didn’t respond with their name or location. In the back of her mind, she could hear Crew and Theo, and even Willow, cautioning her about going forward.
But of course she wouldn’t meet someone without sharing that information with the Black Heart Security team. They were taking the time to make sure she was safe, and she had a responsibility to them and herself.
Dots appeared on screen, revealing that the person was texting her. She waited. And waited.
The dots disappeared.
Fern’s fingers chilled with that same feeling she got when she saw that truck.
She was safe now. It was only a text.
She tucked the phone into her purse, reminding herself that people sometimes sent texts when the thought was in their minds, but they got busy and didn’t always respond immediately.
Not everything meant something. She refused to let her mind spiral back there either.
Crew returned moments later, now empty-handed. She unlocked the doors for him, and he slid behind the wheel. “All set.”
“That was quick.”
“Oh, Cathy wanted to talk a lot longer, but I told her I have a date.”
She twisted in her seat to pierce him in her stare. “Did you tell her who that date was with?”
His eyes flashed teasingly. “Maybe.”
“She’s never going to stop asking me questions about our romantic relationship now.”
His brow arched upward, nearly disappearing beneath the brim of his Stetson. “Is this a romantic relationship, Fern?”
Flustered, she started to stutter out a response. He didn’t let her struggle, though. He settled a warm hand on her thigh. “I’m just joking, Fern. I only told her I’m going out to eat. I shouldn’t have teased you that way. I’m sorry.”
She covered his hand with her own and gave it a light squeeze. Their gazes connected again, sending that same tingle of awareness through her.
“Crew…I—”
“You don’t have to explain anything, honey. We’re here to enjoy each other’s company and have a good meal.”
She loved him for soothing her that way. But part of her wished that he had pressed her for more.
Because she wanted to tell him more.
They pulled back onto the road, the sun setting lower in the sky now.
Dinner was at one of the bars in town—a cozy place with scarred wood floors, low amber lighting, and the hum of conversation blending with the clink of glasses despite their early-bird arrival. Fern slid into the booth across from Crew, her knee brushing his beneath the table.
“How many bars are there in Willowbrook, anyway?” She glanced around.
He smirked. “Six.”
She lifted a brow. “Only six?”
“The seventh is closed because it’s changing owners.”
She laughed. “Okay. Then how many churches?”
Crew barked out a laugh. “That’s the joke. Willowbrook’s got more bars than churches.”
They shared a smile that had her insides pooling with heat and anticipation for what happened after dinner.
Their food arrived, but Fern barely noticed it.
She picked at her plate, eyes drifting instead to the way Crew’s forearms flexed when he lifted his glass of iced tea, the way his gaze lingered on her mouth a second longer than necessary.
The pub itself faded into background noise.
The décor, the food, the music—none of it mattered as much as the charged space between them.
Beneath the table, her foot bumped his boot. His stare met hers. For a heartbeat, they both acknowledged the touch.
She didn’t move away, liking how the smile lingered in his eyes.
She leaned forward slightly. “At the post office…those letters. What were they for?”
He wiped his lips with the paper napkin in such a manly way that her insides jumped. “A project with Gray. You see, he was a pilot too.”
She strained toward him, listening to what he said and what he didn’t say.
“I lost my copilot…but he lost his entire Navy aircraft carrier.”
She stared at him, stunned. “Wait—I remember that being in the news.”
He nodded. “A tragedy that the nation bears, but Gray carries it the most. He spends his spare time writing to families. I help him as a sort of passion project.”
Something softened in her chest. She felt her throat go tight.
“I tried to do the same thing for my copilot’s family,” he went on. “Didn’t get the closure I hoped for.”
Fern studied him. “I understand how difficult it can be not to get closure.”
His gaze shot to hers. “Yeah?”
“I left in the middle of the night,” she said quietly. “Changed my career. Hid my location. Changed my number. I disappeared because it was the only way I could breathe again. And I spent a long time afterward trying to close that chapter of my life.”
His eyes darkened with something fierce and protective. Something that stole her breath.
At that moment, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced down and smiled, unlocking it without hesitation.
“My sister,” he said. “Remember I told you about the TV series we watch together? She’s asking if you want to join us next time.”
Fern’s heart skipped. “You told her about me?”
“I tell her pretty much everything.” His thumbs hovered over the screen, but he looked to Fern before texting a reply.
“We can skip it this week if you’re not feeling it.
Or we can go back to the lodge for the watch party.
The only thing Pope likes as much as playing poker is flirting with my sister. ”
She smiled, thinking of the ruggedly handsome vet…and the shadow of pain in his eyes he guarded until he thought no one was looking.
She considered the options. “Sounds like another date. But tonight…I’d like it to just be us. Let’s go back to my place.”
Under the table, he applied pressure to her calf with his own. Her insides clenched, and both of them slid out of the booth at the same time, eager to be on their way.
He paid for their meals and they stepped out into the cool evening air. The drive back to her place was quiet. Not awkward, but loaded with what was to come. What really could be.
As though the radio deejay knew they were going back to her place, love ballads crooned through the speakers.
When they pulled in front of her apartment, Fern barely had time to unbuckle before Crew was there, following her to the front door, close enough that she could feel his heat at her back.
The door shut behind them.
He didn’t give her time to turn around before his hand slid into her hair and he spun her to face him, his mouth crashing down on hers with hungry intent. Fern gasped softly as he kissed her deep and hard, backing her against the door, his body pressing fully into hers.
Her hands fisted in his shirt, needing to anchor herself as heat spread through her.
“Crew!” His name came out on a ragged breath.
He answered by dragging his mouth to her neck, kissing her there with slow, open heat. His hands slid down her sides to her hips, gripping firmly as he ground into her without apology.
Impatient, she tugged at his shirt, yanking it over his head just to stroke her hands over his hard chest beneath it. He groaned into her mouth, tugging her lip with his teeth in a sweet pull that had her pussy squeezing.
She rocked into him. He ground his cock in response. Soon, she was rubbing against his thick, hard length until her pussy flooded.
They broke apart only long enough for him to guide her toward the couch. Fern sank down, pulling him with her, his body settling between her knees.
His gaze swept over her flushed face and took in the rise and fall of her chest. Desire burned there—but so did something deeper.
“You’re unreal,” he murmured.
She smiled, bold now. “So are you.”
His answering groan vibrated against her as he kissed her again, slower, deeper. Every flip of his tongue shot her higher. Urgency rocketed through her body.
She gripped his shoulders, tracing the lines of warm, steely muscle. Falling into his arms felt as easy as breathing and as thrilling as spotting a shooting star.
Reaching between their bodies, she covered his hard length with her palm. He issued a growl that rumbled through her chest, peaking her nipples along the way.
“I need you.” Arching up, she kissed him again with all the passion blazing inside her.
He pulled off her top and plucked at the clasp of her bra. Before it fully loosened around her ribs, he shoved it upward. His beard stubble that always grew so fast scraped over her sensitive flesh.
He kissed a path over her breasts, lips warm and teasing. When he closed his mouth over her nipple, a cry burst past her lips.
Eyes rolling back in her head, she rocked into the soft, sucking pulls. “At least I don’t…have to…jump out the window.”
He laughed against her skin but it cut short on a growl as she popped his fly and eased the zipper downward. As soon as she palmed the outline of his long, thick cock, he stilled.
When she stroked along the mushroomed head to the rounded tip, he grazed her nipple with his teeth.
“Crew,” she panted. “Please.”
She reached into his boxer briefs and drew out his cock, giving it a slow jack and loving the shudder that ripped through him.
In a blink, he pushed off her and hit his knees beside the couch.
Her chest heaved as he divested her of her shoes and jeans. Hooking his fingers in her panties, he tugged them down, down. The cool air barely brushed against her wet folds before his heated mouth covered it.
He plunged his tongue deep. And she lost her mind…
To his mouth, his fingers.
And to the former pilot turned cowboy…
She lost her heart.
The world narrowed to sensation. To the scrape of his stubble. To the weight of him. To the sound of her name, spoken like it meant everything.
Fern gasped and clutched the couch cushions as pleasure built fast and sharp.
Crew came back up to her, eyes dark, breath rough. He lifted her easily, and she wrapped her legs around his waist without thinking. He swore under his breath as he carried her toward the bedroom.
He laid her down carefully, then followed her onto the bed, his body covering hers, his mouth claiming hers again.
He slid his hand between them. His fingertip worked over her bud, alternating fast and slow, hard and soft. Her body picked up the rhythm until she knew what to expect and when to expect it.
She climbed higher, higher. Curling toward him, she anchored her hand on his head…and let go.
She arched with a broken sound as sensation crested hard and fast in a wave that stole any doubt from her mind of what was happening between them.
When she came for him, she was staring deep into his eyes and his name was on her lips.