Chapter Twenty-One Jess
Chapter Twenty-One
Jess
Back at the archery supply closet, Jess smiled at the message she’d discovered from Mo.
Mo:
Neither the Dread Pirate Roberts nor Princess Buttercup have anything on you, m’lady.
She didn’t know if things had begun in the smithy yet, so she couldn’t guess at his emotional state. She hoped the nervous discomfort of being photographed hadn’t built too much. It had been disturbing for her, but once she could move while they were shooting video, she had been able to get into the zone, far from any anxiety or worry. Any sadness about Cassie got tucked away where Jess couldn’t feel it. The applause from the other School volunteers had come as a surprise once they’d stopped filming. Jess had forgotten they were there.
Once changed, she locked up and headed down the hall to leave. Not knowing how long the photography would take for either of them, Jess had planned to head home right after and do some additional research, as she needed to update a course for the next semester, then check in with Mo in the evening. Almost to the lobby, she caught Doug’s voice somewhere behind her.
“The smithy is this way,” he said to the photographer following him at the end of the hall. “Make sure to get a lot of close-ups of Mo.”
Jess frowned. That was exactly the sort of advice Doug would give that would make Mo crawl out of his skin. Jess couldn’t let him deal with this by himself, even though Rick was in the smithy as well.
“Don’t pay any attention to me, or to Sam,” the photographer said to Mo and Rick while gesturing to the cameraman as Jess joined them in the smithy. “You guys just do you.”
Mo gave her a curt nod. Several of the other volunteers had come in from outside, and Jess discreetly made her way to the back of the group, standing against the wall just across from Mo. She hoped to catch his eye so that he’d know that she was there for moral support, but he’d turned his attention directly to the forge just behind him after listening to the photographer. He was slowly shifting a piece of metal back and forth in the fire. Jess made a mental note to ask him about how blacksmithing worked, about some of the processes. Because looking back and forth between him and Rick, she realized she didn’t know anything beyond “bang hot metal with hammer.”
Mo caught her full attention as he moved the long metal rod—now glowing red—from the forge to his anvil. He picked up a hammer from somewhere to the side of it. The room faded away as he brought it down for the first strike. The shower of sparks that exploded in all directions drew Jess’s attention to Mo’s bare forearms. First, she had a hint of concern because they weren’t protected. But that concern turned to something deeper and needier as he flexed, turning the cooling metal with one hand. The hammer came down again, and she followed its path back up, her gaze catching on the biceps flexing to move it. The room was already warm when Jess had walked in, the heat from the forges getting trapped by the walls. Mo had been in there longer than she had, and his skin glowed with a light sheen of sweat. Now that she knew what his skin tasted like, she could imagine savoring it right then, just a little bit saltier than it had been before. She let herself lean against the wall as she dragged her tongue across her now parched bottom lip to moisten it. Suddenly, the arc of Mo’s hammering faltered a bit, and she looked up at his face. In the brief second their eyes met, she winked at him. If she hadn’t known him better, she would have missed the red that deepened his already pink cheeks. But the way he tucked his chin, without losing his rhythm, was enough to let her know he was doing his shy thing.
So sexy yet so shy . She smiled, shaking her head a little. Makes no sense.
She tried to reposition to catch his eye again, but the videographer stepped in and blocked her line of sight. The photographer said something to him. All Jess caught was “blacksmithing god.” She chuckled.
Sounds right to me.
She pulled out her phone to send Mo a little encouragement for later.
Jess:
Goddamn, Hephaestus.
Glancing at the top of the screen, she noticed she’d missed a call. Checking the log, she saw that her mother had called her twice in a row, just a few minutes earlier. Jess’s heart leapt into her throat—her mother had only called her multiple times in a row once, to tell her that Cassie was gone. Jess inched toward the door, shooting Mo a quick glance, but he was focused on his work, clearly trying to pretend that the cameras weren’t there.
Everything’s fine, everything’s fine.
Walking around the side of the School, she called her mother back as she reached her car.
“Jess, hello!” her mother said brightly after the third ring.
“Is everything okay?” Jess asked, tossing her bag in the backseat and locking herself in.
“Yes, of course,” her mother said. “Why?”
“You called me twice in a row.”
“Did I?” her mother asked. “Oh, I tried to call but it dropped. I didn’t realize I called again. I tossed the phone into my purse just after.”
Jess let out an audible sigh, her shoulders unclenching as she rested her forehead on the steering wheel.
“Okay,” she said. “Good. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Um, I wanted to know what you thought about the picture?”
Something had always bothered Jess about the way her mother softened statements about her thoughts or feelings by turning them into questions sometimes. She’d learned during her master’s program that it was called high rising intonation, and her mom was probably doing it from a lack of confidence in her own opinions, which saddened and angered Jess at the same time. She sighed.
“Which picture, Mom?” she asked.
“Um…the one with…the two of you,” she said.
Jess swallowed down her frustration that her mom wouldn’t even say Cassie’s name.
“It’s nice,” she said.
“Oh.”
Jess waited, surprised at her mother’s flat tone.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I…well. You just sounded a lot like your father,” her mom said.
Jess saw red.
“I’m sorry ?” she asked, a blast of adrenaline making her heart take off.
“Well…” Her mom let out a whine-whimper sound that stabbed at Jess’s ears. “He won’t talk about Cassie; you won’t talk about Cassie. You two are so similar, boxing things up inside. How can we possibly do better, feel better if you all won’t talk ?”
Jess’s chest was rising and falling, head spinning. In no way, shape, or form was she anything like her misogynistic father. She managed her feelings, which was a perfectly logical way to deal with them. Her father simply refused to have any and tried to stamp them out of everyone around him. The tiniest flicker of a thought that there may have been a similarity between managing and refusing passed through her mind, but she ignored it. With her breathing still rapid and her heart racing with anger, she decided to end the call before she passed out.
“I have to go, Mom,” she said.
“Wait!” her mom said, pitch high. “Please, come home so we can—”
Exhausted and disgusted, Jess ended the call and tossed her phone on the passenger seat.
—
She was pulling into her driveway, having mentally tossed her anger and frustration along the road during her drive, when her phone buzzed with two laughing emojis from Mo.
Mo:
Hephaestus?
Jess smiled. That was a much better thought to return to.
Jess:
That’s your nickname from now on.
Mo:
Why?
Cuz you’re a blacksmithing god.
She could just imagine how red his cheeks must have gotten. Thinking of his skin reignited the fire that had kindled in his smithy. She glanced at her front door. She did have things she should do. But there was one thing she wanted to do a lot more.
Jess:
Do you have anything going on right now?
Mo:
No, I don’t.
Jess:
Feel like a little company?
Jess’s hands got shaky waiting for his reply. She started to chide herself for acting impulsively, and she poised her fingers to take her suggestion back, but his reply appeared.
Mo:
I’d love that.
Jess smiled again, breathing a sigh of relief.
Jess:
Send me your address.
—
Thirty minutes later, Jess stood on Mo’s doorstep, focusing on the potted plants nearby to get the images of Mo at his anvil out of her head. Taking a deep breath and letting it out through pursed lips, she was confident that she had her hormones under control until the door opened.
“Hey,” Mo said. Jess glanced down at his forearm. It was still bare. “Glad you wanted to—”
Jess jumped on him, cutting him off, sealing her lips to his. He groaned, wrapping his free arm around her as he pulled them into his house and shut the door.
“You are so fucking hot when you’re working,” she said quickly before kissing him again. She felt him chuckle as he kissed her back.
“Why?” he asked into her lips.
“You are a god,” she murmured back, running her hands through his hair. The combination of his smell and the smoke from the smithy was making her head spin. “You are totally Hephaestus, metalworking, big, strong, god of fire, heating me up simply by being you. I almost jumped on you, watching you work.” She leaned back a little, and he slackened his grip on her. Her feet returning to the floor made her realize that he’d been holding her up. He was smiling but avoiding her gaze, his skin as flushed as hers felt.
“I’m hardly a god,” he said softly before glancing up at her. “And if I were Hephaestus, you’d be Artemis.”
Jess didn’t scoff—while the archery part was right, she certainly wasn’t in the mood to be a goddess of chastity right then, or to point out the contradiction.
“You’re a sweetheart,” she said. “Maddy’s not here, right? It’s not your weekend with her, is it?”
“No,” he said. “She’s at her mom’s.”
“Cool,” Jess said. She ripped her shirt off.
Mo’s eyes widened, and she caught him swallowing. Jess backed toward the couch, crooking a finger at him.
“Wait,” he said. “I’m gross. I need a shower.”
Jess laughed.
“Oh, I promise you are not gross.” She walked back over to him and ran her hands up his chest. “You are sexy and…” She nuzzled close, taking a deep breath. “You smell utterly delicious. Cedarwood and smoke and…let’s get you out of these clothes.” She pulled at his shirt, and he got rid of it. She bit her lip and looked him in the eye. “And the pants?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. He laughed.
“As hot as this is, I can’t,” he said. “Not here.” He gestured around them. “Up there.” He tipped his chin over her shoulder. Jess glanced back and caught the staircase. She looked back at him.
“Beat you to it!” Jess said and took the steps two at a time while he followed, laughing.
“Which way?” she asked when she’d reached the top.
“To the right, end of the hall.” She followed his hand swoop and took off in that direction.
She went through the open door to his bedroom and looked around, her hands on her hips.
“Just as I suspected,” she said, her laughter dying down.
“What’s that?” he asked, as his did, too.
“Very, very Mo,” she said, grinning up at him. He didn’t grin back. He kept looking around his room as though he were trying to see it through her eyes.
“I mean…it’s just a bedroom,” he said when he looked at her again.
She chuckled.
“Dark, masculine wood, wrought-iron touches—which I’m betting you made,” she said.
He nodded.
“Immaculately clean, smelling of—” She sniffed the air. “Mmm…more cedarwood, leather, and…anise, I think.” She closed the distance between them and slid her hands up his chest. “Which I adore.” She snuggled into his neck and took a deep breath. He shivered.
“And of course, there’s that,” she said, gesturing behind her at the bed.
“That?” Mo asked softly. “The bed?”
She nodded, raising an eyebrow.
“That very sexy bed.”
“How…how can a bed be sexy?” Mo asked, looking bewildered.
She leaned back a little to look up at him.
“Maybe because I know it’s your bed,” she murmured.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. She stepped back, undoing her jeans and wiggling out of them. She slid up the foot of the bed, looking Mo straight in the eye and licking her bottom lip. She could tell his breathing was a little fast.
“It’s big,” she said softly. “And sturdy-looking. Strong.” She ran a hand down one of the black walnut posts at the foot. “Looks like it can handle anything. Like its owner.” Winking, she crooked a finger at him again.