Chapter Fourteen
Crew guided Fern’s newly repaired car in front of Fern’s place and cut the engine. She was expecting him to come in, but he took a moment, just listening to the rain tapping the roof and watching it spatter on the windshield and soaking in the moment.
A moment that if, six months ago, someone had told him he’d be living, he would have laughed in their face and walked away shaking his head.
But so much had changed since he met Fern. She hadn’t healed him—that was never her job. It felt as though he’d been standing with one foot in the past and one in some weird limbo, unsure how to step into the future.
Through her own display of strength and determination to move on from her own past traumas, Fern had shown him the way too.
The house glowed softly against the dark. She’d left the porch light on and a lamp that cast a butter-yellow glow through the window. She’d created a space much like the Malones’. Homey. Inviting. A place where everyone belonged.
He climbed out of the truck and shut the door quietly, aware of how much he wanted to get this right. Not the date. Not the night.
Her.
Fern opened the door before he could knock, already smiling like she’d been watching for him.
“Hey.” Her sweet tone carried the edge of a rasp, as if she was a bit breathless too.
“Hey yourself.” His chest loosened at the sight of her. Jeans. Soft sweater. Bare feet.
Gorgeous and real.
She glanced past him at the street and let out a gasp. “My car’s fixed!”
He gave her a single nod and held up the keys for her. She held out her palm, accepting them as she stepped aside to let him in. The door closed behind him with a soft click that felt like even the lock was setting the stage for their evening.
Her house smelled faintly like clean cotton and living plants.
“Thank you for delivering my car to me. What was wrong with it?”
“Loose hoses and wires. Things weren’t getting a good connection. Gabe thought it could happen from bumping around the back roads.”
She nodded, looking a little lighter, though the car issue still bugged him.
“You hungry?”
“Always.” He only partly meant his stomach. The other hunger he had to work harder to control.
She laughed and headed toward the tiny kitchen. “Good. Because I ordered too much Chinese food.”
He followed her, watching the way she moved in her own space, easy and relaxed, her bare feet padding across the floor. The kitchen boasted a tiny table for two that was absolutely heaped in takeout bags.
He chuckled. “You weren’t kidding about ordering too much.”
She sliced a look his way as she reached for one of the bags and began unpacking containers of rice, fried vegetables and egg rolls. “I’m used to eating a lot of leftovers, so I always cook a lot or order a lot.” She nudged a chair his way, and he pulled it out to take a seat.
They passed containers back and forth, sampling each other’s choices and sharing their day, talking about everything from her funny experiences at the greenhouse to his moments with Navy and the horses.
He caught himself watching the way Fern leaned in, how her fingers grazed his when they both reached for the same container, and how she didn’t pull away.
After they finished their meal, they packed up the leftovers and stowed them in the refrigerator. Eventually, they migrated to the couch that had memories he ached to relive, even as he was eager to create more. The TV murmured in the background, but neither of them were watching.
“So,” she said lightly, toying with a little tassel on the corner of a throw pillow, “what would you be doing if you were back at the ranch?”
He stretched out his legs, one arm riding along the back of the couch and his fingers inches from her thick hair he itched to touch.
He considered her question for a moment.
“Probably playing poker with the guys. If I didn’t feel up to that, I’d be watching whatever sports are on TV or reading in my room. ”
Her eyes softened to warm green pools. “Are there any bets taking place at these poker games?”
“If you count snacks.”
“What kind of snacks are we talking?” Her throaty chuckle did things to his insides, and he couldn’t stop himself from brushing his fingers over her hair.
“Whatever’s around. Pretzels. Beef jerky. Last Easter, it was jellybeans.”
Her smile lit her eyes and seemed to make her entire face glow with an inner happiness.
He pinched a lock of her silky hair between his thumb and forefinger. “What would you be doing if I wasn’t here?”
“Sitting right here, watching some show on landscaping to get new ideas. Talking to my plants.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Or taking a bubble bath.”
His cock stirred at the thought of Fern, bare skin glistening, bubbles coating her upper arms and teasing the crests of her breasts.
Before he hauled her off to the bathtub, he switched the subject, telling her about how Gray asked his input on various military trainings.
She listened intently, asking questions or adding small noises of understanding as he talked. Then she told him more about her side business, which began from an arrangement she created for Felicity’s bookshop. The bakery owner had seen it and requested one to match the colors of her own business.
He listened, really listened, because this—this—was the part he never knew he needed. Being here. Being let in. Sharing in each other’s days, their lives.
At some point, she folded her legs beneath her and leaned sideways into him, her shoulder pressing into his chest. His arm came up around her automatically and he breathed in her enticing perfume.
She traced absentminded patterns on his thigh as she talked, and every nerve ending he had lit up, demanding attention.
He shifted to ease the tightness in his jeans, and her gaze flicked up to his.
There it was.
That look.
Something charged passed between them. The conversation stalled, and neither of them bothered to revive it.
Her lips parted as if in invitation. He brushed his thumb along her jaw, and she leaned into his caress.
It was all the permission he needed.
Dipping his head, he captured her lips. Her fingers tightened on his thigh as she angled her head to give him more access to her mouth. He kissed her slowly at first, lips only brushing until she slipped the tip of her tongue into his mouth.
Stifling a growl, he curled his hand around her waist, tugging her closer even as she twisted hers in the front of his shirt. The kiss deepened, heat building as he inched closer and she fit her body against his like it didn’t know how to be apart.
With a ragged noise, he eased her back on the couch, covering her body with his as their mouths collided in more urgent kisses. Her breath hitched when his body bracketed hers, and the kiss turned carnal.
He devoured her with long passes of his tongue, claiming all her little cries for his own and storing them in his memory to pull out when they were old and gray and sitting on the couch remembering one of their first dates.
Her hands roamed over his shoulders, his chest, fingers digging in. Her breath stuttered and her body arched into his.
God. He loved this woman.
The realization wasn’t shocking. It was all the little moments with Fern fitting together like puzzle pieces until the bigger picture began to take shape and he saw their relationship for what it was.
Their forever.
He forced himself to slow the kiss until it trailed off. He pressed his forehead into hers, breathing hard. “Fern.”
Her eyes were as dark as the forest, her lips swollen from his kisses. “Yes?”
This was the moment—the one where he could spill his guts and risk scaring her off. But he took a leap of faith he never would have a month ago.
“I’m in love with you.”
He was staring into her eyes when he saw them flood with emotion and his heart gave a throb of joy.
She threw her arms around him, yanking him down on top of her. “Oh god, Crew. I love you too. I don’t know when it happened. All the little things—”
He nodded, both stunned and yet not surprised at all that their brains worked the same. Joy burst in his chest, and it wasn’t just knowing she felt the same.
After Conner died, he questioned everything he did, even down to the food he selected from the dinner buffet. But he’d jumped into sharing his feelings with Fern…and it was a big win in so many ways.
“I know, honey. God, I know.”
Dipping his head, he kissed along her jaw, her throat, feeling her shiver beneath his mouth. He slid his hand along her side, thumb edging just under the hem of her sweater, enough to steal her breath.
She gripped him hard and stared into his eyes. “Take me to bed and show me.”
* * * * *
Fern barely registered the short walk to the bedroom.
Every step felt deliberate, not because Crew was holding back, but because he was showing her just how important she was to him.
The bedroom glowed softly, lamplight spilling across the quilt she’d smoothed that morning without any thought that it mattered. Now it did. Everything did.
Crew closed the door behind them, and the sound reverberated low in her chest.
Her heart thudded hard as she turned to face him.
In the past, this was the moment she would usually tense. The moment where she would brace for expectations she couldn’t meet and disappointment. The moment where her body remembered things she wished it didn’t.
But this was Crew.
And he loved her.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. “I am.”
And she was surprised to realize it was true. The past flowed away.
He lifted his hands, slowly sliding upward until his thumbs brushed the sensitive skin just beneath her collarbones. He leaned in and kissed her again, slower than before, deeper somehow. Like he wasn’t trying to take from her…only connect with her.
Fern melted into him.
She let her hands explore the breadth of his shoulders and the solid planes of his chest. He was strong, yes, but there was something else there too. A gentleness that showed her exactly who Crew Diaz was.
He kissed her like he hadn’t just kissed her minutes before, like he was learning her all over again. When she shivered, he slowed. When her breath caught, he kissed her harder. When she leaned into him, he yanked her flush against his body.
The bed pressed against the backs of her knees, and she sank onto it without breaking the kiss. He followed, bracing himself above her even as his presence wrapped around her like shelter.
Fern eased her fingers into his hair, tugging softly, and the sound he made—as low as a prayer—sent a pulse of heat through her that had nothing to do with urgency.
This wasn’t about hunger.
It was about closeness.
Crew kissed along her jaw, then her throat until he reached the tender hollow beneath her ear. When he slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her sweater, brushing warm skin, her breath stuttered.
The weight of him was solid and his eyes burned with love that wasn’t just kindled—it was barely contained.
She’d never known intimacy could feel like this.
She kissed him again, pouring everything she felt into it. Gratitude that the universe had given her this man and a desire so hot that she thought she’d combust.
They moved together after that, unhurried, shedding layers of clothing like it was the most natural thing in the world. He brought her to peak after peak, first with his mouth and then driving her to another gasping climax around his cock.
When they finally settled into the bed together, limbs tangled, she rested her forehead against his shoulder and breathed in the scent of clean soap and the unique note that was just Crew.
She’d never imagined she’d let herself love like this, and her chest ached with it in the best way.
Tracing slow patterns over her spine, he kissed her hair.
This—this—was what she’d never thought she’d have.
Not only love, but trust.
Fern lay still in his arms, praying this was her life now—quiet nights, warm arms and problems that could be fixed.
She closed her eyes and held on to that belief.