Chapter 4
Not even a fingerbang this time.
Kisses? Yes.
Plenty of them.
And they were all great.
But other than some handholding, a butt squeeze, and lots of delicious kisses, Joanna went to bed that night without another orgasm from Decker.
He truly wanted to get to know her before they went any further, and that was so different from any other guy she’d met, that she was still struggling to accept that he was the real deal.
Mieka, of course, dogged her for information on their “date.” She was shipping Joanna and Decker pretty hard.
“You guys would be so great together,” she said as the two of them sat at the kitchen table drinking wine later that night. Her sisters had all dispersed to their cabins, RVs and houses for the night, so it was just Mieka and Joanna. Nate was in the barn doing “something horsey” as Mieka put it. While Asher was at home with Triss and their son on the other side of the property .
“But it’d be temporary,” Joanna said, taking a sip of the icy rosé Mieka had poured them.
“That’s what I thought about Nate and me. But here I am, with a great life, doing what I love, and doing who I love—a super sexy cowboy.”
She paused for a moment, like she was waiting for something.
Nothing happened.
What the heck?
“Never mind,” she said. “I mean rancher.”
Joanna shook the confusion from her head. “Yeah, but I’m kind of in the process of getting permanent residency in Canada. I have a job—”
“That you hate. And you can always be like, ‘naw, bruh, I’m gonna bounce and go shag a SEAL in the good ol’ US of A. Laterz.”
“What slang is that? And please never use it again.”
Mieka snickered. “All I’m saying is, life’s too damn short to not do something you love.” Her lips twisted wryly. “I mean … I would love for you to move here and teach dance with me. It’s a lot doing it all myself. I mean, I love it. Don’t get me wrong. But having another teacher would be so great. We could offer more classes, sub for each other. Bounce choreography ideas off each other. Think of the recitals we could put on together. They would be spectacular.” Her gold-brown eyes glittered with excitement.
“It all sounds so idyllic, but …”
Mieka gave her an almost impatient look. “But what?”
“Where would I live?”
“You want a house? I can have a prefab cabin with plumbing and electricity plunked on the edge of the field by the end of the week. Just say the word. I have connections, yo.”
“Please stop with the gangster talk.”
Mieka stuck her tongue out cheekily before sipping her wine. “Take these two weeks as a trial run. See if you could work here and teach. If not, no harm, no foul. But if you fall in love with … the life … the job … Decker ,” she said his name as a cough into her fist, “then even better.”
“He’s only staying long enough to help out Asher while you and Nate are gone.”
“Doesn’t mean he can’t stay longer.” She shrugged. “I know for a fact he doesn’t want to settle down in Dallas, but that he is ready to settle down. Asher and Nate are trying to convince him to consider settling here. Maybe you could jump on that train, too. Just saying.”
“You’re just saying an awful lot.”
“Can I help it if I want one of my best friends here?”
Joanna rolled her eyes. “I suppose not.”
“Think about it. Be open. That’s all.”
Joanna sipped her wine. She’d think about it.
That’s probably all she’d be able to think about now that Mieka had planted the seed.
A life here with Decker. The wide-open spaces. The fresh air. The animals. The endless possibilities.
It seemed unobtainable, and yet, as she held his hand earlier that day in the field—overtop the obnoxious horse’s neck—she had the fleeting thought that she could easily do things like that every day for the rest of her life. Lay under the clouds and just do nothing. At least she could if it was with Decker.
The next afternoon, Mieka and Nate left for their two-week honeymoon to Croatia. The rest of the Young Sisters and their families left, as well.
The ranch felt positively empty once it was just Triss, Asher, Decker and Joanna. Even though there were loads of ranch hands wandering around and oodles of animals .
With the absence of so much energy, it was both refreshing and lonely.
But Joanna didn’t really have time to dwell on the lonely part of things because Tuesday brought forth an endless stream of young, eager dancers ready to twirl, shimmy, plie and mambo.
School was out for the summer, so from nine in the morning until seven at night, she was teaching. Every age and skill-level, too. Preschoolers to teenagers. Those without an ounce of rhythm and those who could do a better grand jeté than she could.
Mieka had the schedule well organized, but PACKED.
Joanna was positively knackered but also elated by the time she schlepped her way into the farmhouse that night.
She expected to find it empty and dark, but it wasn’t.
Food sat on the table, soft music played in the background and someone puttered in the kitchen making noise.
Triss and Asher had the ranch dog Bruno with them, but Bruno obviously couldn’t make dinner, so was it one of the ranch hands?
Nope. She’d recognized that broad back and fine ass anywhere. Even if she only just started ogling it a few days ago.
Decker spun around, a tea towel thrown over one shoulder as he carried a cast iron pan of sautéed green beans over to the table that was set for two. A roast chicken sat already carved on the table, along with a green salad and roasted potatoes.
“How was your first day of teaching dance?” he asked, setting the frying pan down onto a hot pad.
She blinked at him, unable to speak.
He blanched. “Did you lose your voice having to talk all day?”
She shook her head. “What is all this?”
“Dinner?” he replied, adding an upward inflection of his own since it was clear as day what it was .
“Yes, but—”
He rolled his eyes. “Go wash your hands, Joanna. I made you dinner because you worked hard all day. We’re also staying in this house together, so what kind of a roommate would I be if you came home, and I was eating and didn’t make enough for you?”
“I—” but she was speechless. So she just did as she was told and went to the bathroom to wash her hands, returning a moment later.
“Sit,” he ordered. “Wine?”
“Uh, sure.”
He poured her a glass of the same rosé that she and Mieka enjoyed the night before. Then he ditched the tea towel and pulled out a seat for himself. “I asked Mieka if you were allergic to anything and she said you weren’t. That you like food as long as you’re not the one cooking it.”
Mieka was right about that. Joanna didn’t like cooking and she wasn’t very good at it.
Everything on the table looked and smelled delicious.
“Well, dig in,” he said, spearing a couple of roast potatoes and putting them on his plate.
Still very bewildered, but famished, she dished up her plate, taking a little bit of everything. Then she added more of everything because she could.
“Tell me about the first day,” he prompted, bringing a shiny green bean to his lips and taking a bite. He wasn’t even using a fork. He was like some kind of sexy savage and she was here for it.
“It went rather well, I think. Great kids. All eager. All excited.”
He nodded, and she could tell that he was really listening to her. Really absorbing what she was saying.
“The preschoolers were wild, but they had great energy. I just played a lot of games with them and they seemed to like it. The older ones are very serious and dedicated. I remember what it was like to be so focused. To live and breathe dance.”
He nodded and chewed.
“What did you get up to today?” she asked, cutting into a potato, which steamed when she opened it up.
“Helped Asher fix some holes in the fence near the back corner of the field. Cleaned out some stalls. Had to catch a chicken that got injured before the others pecked it to death. That idiot goat Fumble got out, so we had to chase that bastard almost down the entire driveway before we caught him. Took six of us. Fucker just needs to be shot. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
She snickered at that. It was well known that Fumble the goat was an obnoxious escape artist. Mieka had actually found him a few miles down the road one time.
“But he’s so cute,” she teased.
“So is goat stew.”
They ate and chatted like an old married couple. It was remarkably easy and wonderful. He topped up her wine, cleared her plate, and the man had even baked cookies. Honest to God double-chocolate chip cookies. And they were still hot too.
“You’re like a robot or something, right? Or an alien?” she asked, catching a chocolatey crumb that nearly fell into her lap when she took a bite of her second cookie. “You’re not real.”
A confused look splashed across his face. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re like bloody perfect. You want to get to know me before we shag. You cook. You’re considerate. You actually fucking listen to me when I talk. You ask questions. You gave me the best goddamn fingerbang of my life.”
He snorted.
“And you’re like, chill as fuck. Does anything ruffle your feathers?”
His throat moved on a swallow and he casually sipped his water, then set down the drinking glass. He was choosing his words carefully, something she noticed he did a lot. Unlike her, who spoke almost always before the thought even made its way to her brain. “I’m not sure I have too many feathers left to ruffle,” he said softly. “Most of them have been plucked and they just never grew back.”
“What the hell does that mean? You’re a bald bird?”
He snorted again and smiled. “No. It means I just don’t have any fucks left to give. Life is so short. Why not spend the days we have doing good? Doing what we like and making an impact? I’ve done a lot of things in my life that should have gotten me killed. Then, my brother—not Ryker—but a brother in arms, Brendan, took his own life because he couldn’t deal with all the things we saw. All the things we’d been through. His wife Molly lost a husband that day. His daughter Sasha, who was just a baby, lost her father that day. And we all lost a friend.
“After that, I never took a single moment for granted. I never took a single person I met for granted. If there was something I wanted to do, I did it. I didn’t put it off until tomorrow because none of us are guaranteed to have a tomorrow. I cook because I like food. It makes me happy. It makes me happy to cook for others and see them enjoy my food. To enjoy the time and energy I poured into creating something for them. And I listen to you when you speak because I find you interesting and I want to hear what you have to say.”
Holy. Shit.
“And as for not wanting to shag you until I know you better … yeah, we could die tomorrow having not had sex. But like I said, when I’m with someone, I want it to mean something. I want there to be a connection. I don’t want a meaningless, forgetful fuck. And I sure as hell don’t want one with you.”
Her mouth was completely dry.
Her knickers on the other hand … not so much.
She stared at him in complete awe.
“So, no. I’m not a robot or an alien. I’m just Decker. I’ve seen some shit. I’ve lost people. And I like food. And I like you. I'm a simple guy who is really great at fingerbanging.”
She wasn’t expecting that last bit and burst out laughing .
His crooked and cute smile made her want to lunge across the table and kiss his lips until they were as swollen as her clit currently was.
God, if he’d kept talking, she was probably going to get off from his words alone.
“Now, finish your cookie, Joanna.”
She blinked, swallowed, and did what she was told.
Like a good girl.
Decker’s good girl.